These are a part of my “work attire.” But I’m not a cowboy in the truest sense of the word. I ride a horse, and the young lady who’s teaching me more of the tricks on the proper way to lead and communicate with a horse has told my English-riding wife that I’m a “natural.” That feels good.
I’ve tried sitting in an English saddle. While it’s a noble thing, it didn’t feel “natural” to me. I feel more comfortable in a Western saddle, where I’m much less likely to just slide right off and I have a horn to hang my hat on if I need to.
Yeah, there’s the hats. There’s a brown felt one for the colder months, a straw one for the warmer months. And they fit me, better than any off-the-rack cowboy hats I’ve ever had. They’ve both been styled to match each other by the same master craftsman at one of the larger Western wear stores in the Salt Lake Valley, who told me amazing stories about hats while he steamed them and sprayed liquid shellac on them to help them keep their shape and to protect them from the snow and rain.
There’s something downright spiritual about a good hat. A good felt one has no cardboard in it, it’s just hard-pressed woollen fibres. My straw hat was made by hand, with love and care and craftsmanship. I love that kind of spirit, doing the job right, giving it a personal touch.
My hats have an attitude about them that suits me.
Then there’s the boots. There are my brown “work boots,” my everyday “kickin’ around” boots. They are genuinely scuffed, but I’ll clean and spiff ’em up someday. Any dirt you find on ’em, well, chances are that’s part clay mud and part horse manure. What can I say, melting snow makes an arena get wet and muddy when you need to go out and feed three horses every day. And you can tell by the color of what gets on your boots that it’s quite a “mixture.”
These boots have a certain spirit to them as well.
Then there are my good boots, a pair that I’ve had for years and I take special care of them. They’re black, nothing fancy. I wear them to church pretty much every time I go. And I can usually be found with a no-collar white Western shirt and a black Western vest when I walk in to church too. That’s how it’s been with me for years, to the point that my daughter wishes I’d wear clothes with a bit more variety.
But those are the clothes that suit me. They have a certain “spirit” to them. They have a certain “attitude” to them.
It’s a spirit and an attitude that I try to carry with me, with every step I take, no matter where I go.
That’s me. And I’ve got my “angel” right beside me today. She suits me too.
Copyright 2012, Daddysangbassdude Media