by Baxter Black, DVM

‘Howdy, Wayne,’ I said as I scraped my boots on the handmade horseshoe foot scraper. ‘Thanks.’ That afternoon I had put on a ten-year old pair of Carhartt overalls Andy had given me when he bought a new pair; he is a better dresser than I and has always tried to class up my act. Thanks Andy. And, Larry, thanks for this hat.

We checked the heifers this morning. My good horse I got from Sonny, my bit from Chuck, and my saddle from Roger, they give me good deals. I’m tryin’ to live up to their expectations. One of the heifers in the bunch was the daughter of a cow Gerald traded when he left the ranch. Thanks boys.

I can’t walk through the house or out to the corrals without trippin’ over someone’s contribution to my good life. Grandpa Tommy’s 8 foot table, Jack’s gate, Dick’s molasses tank, Grandpa Landers’s Regulator clock, Butch’s 8 track studio board, Warner’s jaguar photo, Ace’s cartoons, Mother’s paintings on the wall, Chris’s furniture, Ron’s tapaderas, Phyllis’s caned chairs, Pinto’s subscription to a favorite publication...friends, mostly, who have taken the time to do something special. More properly it’s people who have penetrated my marrow and help me remember how lucky I am. For me it’s the people whose names I remember.

When I go see him next time, he probably won’t know me but I’ll tell him about the hunting knife and the deer head on my wall. I’ll tell Billy what a blessing it has been to have him in my life. I’ll honor him. Couldn’t hurt.