Mutton Bustin'

What in the heck is that? I discovered mutton busting at the local Labor Day rodeo. Helmville is a Montana town so small that the United States post office shared the same building structure as the local church. Past that turn was a dip in the valley where hundreds of cowboys/girls, cars, and farm animals gathered for quite the event. I've only been to one other rodeo in my life (this summer in Missoula), but this was definitely my favorite.

Mutton busting consists of a child being placed on a sheep, which is then turned loose into the arena. Since sheep are herd animals, they have one or two sheep 20 feet away, so that the sheep that was just released will run towards something. That kid hangs on for dear life, and I have never seen anything like it. Once the kid (all wear a helmet) falls off, the sheep runs and leaps to find the rest of the herd. Several of the sheep lept 3 or 4 feet in the air, happy to be free of the extra weight, and then immediately ran to find the rest of the herd, grouped by the small patch of grass in the corner on the other side of the arena.

"Cowboy Eric" was pretty tough. He wore a white cowboy hat, wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and a flannel snapshirt. Don't let the fact that he's 7-years-old fool you. "I hope I get a mean one," he said with a squint in his eye before the event. That kid was born for rodeo.

The only man I've ever heard talk faster than the announcer yesterday was the guy on the commercial for micro machines that used to constantly run on TV in the 80's. The announcer knew his crowd, and made the joke, "Here in Montana. We get together on a nice Labor Day afternoon and entertain ourselves by puttin' our kids on large farm animals." The crowd laughed good humoredly.

I watched each of these kids get placed on a different sheep one at a time as the sheep ran into whatever it could find of the herd. Most of the children immediately fell off, jumped off, or ran off. Not "Cowboy Eric." He wouldn't let go until his dad and the other adults told him he could. He would have ridden that sheep all over the arena, even over to the far corner of the arena with the rest of the herd. When the competition was over, "Cowboy Eric" swaggered back, wearing his prize, a blue camouflage baseball cap that read "Helmville Mutton Busting 2009" in white lettering. I shook my head and said to his mother, "'Cowboy Eric's' gonna be a heart breaker."


Micro machine guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzbUPfoveok
Mutton busting: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutton_busting

Respected People?

The other day at breakfast, I had a conversation with an older colleague at the ranch that left me dumbfounded. We were discussing employment opportunities and resumes. He mentioned that in his day, people often attached a picture to their resumes (still common practice in China, Spain, and other countries). He said he preferred this method because it gave a face to an application and said something about the person in how he/she presented him/herself in the photo. He cited one instance where a man in his 60's was automatically dismissed as a candidate because of his age.

"We knew he could only give us two or three years. What was the point?"
I asked him, "Well, how do you feel about that now that you're in your 60's?"
He responded, "Well, I wouldn't hire me either."
"What?" I asked, shocked. "How can you say that? You're an expert in your field!"
"I don't feel I have much to offer...I get tired."
"Everyone gets tired," I said.
He continued, "The only reason I got this job is because I knew a friend. You know what I can do because you've seen me. An employer wouldn't know that. I'm okay because I have a good retirement, but other people have a hard time."

Did I mention that this is the same horse whisperer I wrote about in my last post, "Cowbells?" The same man who was a dean at a prominent university for 20+ years. The same man who has taught every single person that has crossed his path (much less seen him with a horse) about gentleness. This same man felt he didn't have much to offer. How is this possible?

It got me thinking about American society and our values as it relates to age. Why are we undervaluing our wisdom keepers? The elderly are the ones who have lived history, not just read about it on Wikipedia. They have experienced death and life. Loss and love. Sadness and happiness. I am not professing that all elderly have wisdom or that young people lack it, but even if times have changed since my grandmother (almost 99-years-old) was a girl, universal truths transcend generations.

In high school, I frequented a local nursing home. I started going to fulfill a school community service requirement, and it was that first Saturday that I met Eva (pronounced Eve-a). She was in her 80's, always had a smile, and told me about how she couldn't wait to meet her husband again one day in heaven. I continued to go even after I fulfilled the requirement because of Eva and her roommate, Mama Jackson. Every time I came, Eva's entire being would light up. I would navigate her around the pee-smelling halls of that nursing home as she would happily exclaim, "You're like my granddaughter!"

I remembered her smile after I learned she had a stroke. My dad took me to visit her one morning in the hospital at 7:00 am before school. He waited in the car, while I went to find her. As I approached the help desk in my uniform, I noticed that the ward had a distinct, sterile smell. A nurse showed me to her room, and there was Eva, a shadow of the person I had known. No one was with her. She appeared to be sleeping, so I came back out, not wanting to disturb her. "Go on, honey," she said. "You can talk to her. She can hear you."

I held her limp hand and cried, telling her all I was grateful for, all that she had given me, and how I would never forget her. "I love you, Eva." She died a few days later. I was 15.

The receptionist at the nursing home knew me well. Mama Jackson died some months later. I kept going, knowing that some days the person I was visiting wouldn't know me. Some days she would be upset or angry, depressed. These people were mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, widows, and there were few times I saw any other visitors. They felt forgotten and unseen. All their lessons, all their stories, all their experiences were tucked away in some old scrap book or corner of their memory. I gave what I hoped someone would give me: his/her time and an ear to listen.

老师 (lao shi) in Mandarin means "teacher." The 老 (lao) in front means "old." Chinese people place this character before something that is valued or respected. An old person is called 老人 (lao ren), literally "old/respected person/people."

I write this post, not to point to a "right" or "wrong" way of doing things, but as an invitation for discussion and reflection on how we treat different age groups in our society. There are always multiple factors when it comes to employment opportunities, nursing homes, and family dynamics. I honestly don't know what I would do if faced with a parent in that situation. As always, feel free to comment on any of my posts, but I extend a special request for comments on this one about your ideas and feelings on this topic. How do you feel elderly are treated in the U.S.? Is agism a relevent problem and if so, in what way? How would you like to be treated at your parents' or grandparents' age? What does "old" mean to you?

Thank you for listening.