Roping the Wind

Day 211

No, you cannot have too many pairs of cowboy boots.

I remember every pair of cowboy boots I’ve ever owned, and am only a little distressed that I don’t have all of them still.  That custom pair out of Mexico – oh my, they were gorgeous – all red roses on white with black.  That pair I bought out in Selah, Washington when I got caught in the fog (what else was I supposed to do?)  The very first pair I bought at Wayne’s Boot Shop in Cody, Wyoming, back in the dark ages.  The pair I bought at Wayne’s several millennia later.  The pair from San Antonio.  The pair that matched a pair for David that we received as wedding gifts.  The Annie Oakley boots of my childhood.  Ah.  The moral of the story?  When you move from place to place – take the books, yes, but always take the boots.  211_365 Guitars

And while I was rooting around hoping to find an image of the Annie Oakley boots, I found this poem by Joseph Sotir on Poetry.com

Big Boots, Little Boots
My very first pair of Western boots were really neat,
Mom said that they were a size four; anyway, they fit my feet.
They were shiny and brown, with real leather on the tops.
I remember watching Dale and Roy on television a lot.

Mom wouldn’t let me wear them out to play,
I could only wear them on Sundays and holidays.
I felt like a real honest-to-goodness cowboy,
Out riding the range with Dale and Roy.

Well, I’m all grown up now, yep, still wearing boots
I work and play and across the dance floor I’ll scoot.
Yes, my boots are a lot bigger than when I was a boy,
But when I pull them on, I still think of Dale and Roy.

 


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