With 3 days to Christmas I find myself thinking about Christmas’ that have passed.
One particular Christmas I recall receiving a wonderful cowboy suit, a Wyatt Earp type gun holstered in black leather
and a larger than life shining silver star. Perhaps that is why I enjoy watching old western films so much, you know the kind where the guns sound like champagne corks popping.
It never ceases to make me smile when I see a cowboy who by all intent and purpose had just been forging through wild river torrents, crossing sun scorched deserts of death and riding up and down mountains through dense forests of pine. With not a speck of dust on his neatly ironed shirt and shining boots and spotless silver spurs, his horse always looked like it had just won a horse show, with a highly polished saddle that you could see your face in and not a bead of sweat to be seen anywhere.
Wonderful how the hero always managed to knock the bad guy out cold with just one punch on the nose, "every time". I wanted to be that cowboy.
I don’t recall what happened to that suit, the gun and the shining star, but I do remember the feeling it gave me as I galloped down the street on my pretend horse, like I was Big John Wayne himself.
LIGHTNING FLASHED AND CRACKLED FROM THE HEAVENS, THUNDER CLAPPED AND ROLLED FROM GREAT BLACK CHURNING CLOUDS, WINDS WHISTLED, HOWLED AND SCREAMED BLUE MURDER AND THE BADDIES TREMBLED AND QUAKED AT MY APPROACH.
The day I wore my wonderful Cowboy suit.
Merry X/mas everyone.
Get off your horse and drink your milk.