The past few days have been reminders to me that old ties are important, and I'm not talking about the kind you wear around your neck.  The ties I have in mind are the kind you wear in your heart and head, the important ones and not just something you dress up in once in a while.  I've got lots of old ties, and the older I get, the more important they become to me.

Two nights ago I got a phone call from Rick Furnish, ranch foreman for Hitch Ranch up in the Oklahoma panhandle.  I've known Rick since the early 1970's, when he was a star performer on my rodeo team at Panhandle State University.  Yeah, it's a real school, even a well-established college that's been around since shortly after Oklahoma became a state.  If you keep up with rodeo, you know about PSU.  Since the early '70's it's been a national powerhouse in college rodeo, and I take great pride in that because I'm one of the creators of that program.  

Lots of colleges west of the Mississippi (and some even east) have had rodeo programs for a long time.  The National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association has been around since shortly after WWII.  I got involved when a group of kids ask me to help out as a faculty advisor to their rodeo club back in '72.  PSU is an old agriculture school mainly, so having a rodeo club was a natural for them.   But they had never excelled at it because they had no financing, no backing.  A Chemistry professor named R. Lynn Gardner had been advising the club for some years before I stepped in to help out, and together we decided to turn the little club into a big program . . . which we did.  And doing that took a helluva lot of hard work.

I worked with the rodeo team at PSU until 1982, then stepped back to do other things with my life.  I kept teaching, started writing and doing other cowboy things, like forming a road show with fellow cowboy poet Buck Ramsey from down in Amarillo.  By that time, I had formed all sorts of ties with cowboys - rodeo, ranch, and even performing cowboys.  The rodeo program continued to do well under Doc Gardner, and we remained close friends until he died suddenly in 1996.  I took over the job as head rodeo coach then, stayed with it until I retired in 2000.  We won several national championships those last few years, something I'll always look back on as being a wonderful thing for me.  

People view life events from all different angles, and your point of view sure determines how you see things.  Rodeo is a violent and physically demanding sport, not just on the animals but also on the people who ride and rope them.  I became a crusader for animal welfare in rodeo, something that cost me some friends and forced me into an early retirement .  .  . but I wouldn't have done it any other way.  But my first consideration was always the youngster who went out and worked the rodeo events, and in doing so brought national recognition to a small college most people never heard of.  Many of those kids who contested in rodeo went on to professional careers that made them famous among those who follow rodeo . . . and maybe with some who don't.  

The first real rodeo star PSU ever produced was Rick Furnish, a saddle bronc and bull rider.  He was a starter for four years and went to the national finals each year, usually as the region's all-around cowboy champ.  He was a rowdy young man back then for sure and was always mixed up in something, but he was also the mainstay of that rodeo program in its fledgling years.  I saw him often after that, at least as long as I lived in the panhandle.  I liked stopping off at the ranch outside of town and seeing what he had going with horses.  They've always kept lots of nice horses out there.  Back in the old days, we did some big time drinking together.  Now I don't drink at all, and he drinks very little . . . but the memories of the old days are still there.  I guess that's what ties are all about.

And so he called just to talk a while, fill me in on what's been going on with him and his family.  He's got a boy on the circuit now, riding broncs and doing fairly well.  So we talked rodeo because that's where the tie started with us, and that's what holds friendships together sometimes.  I haven't been back to the panhandle in six years, don't miss it, but I miss the people . . . and the ties we sometimes forget about until they reel you back in.  This has been my week to be reminded that I'm still on the line.

My vehicles are all old and getting to where I don't feel comfortable taking them on long trips.  My favorite ride, my pickup (she's called Blackie), has 200,000 miles behind her and is starting to complain some.  My wife's car has 120,000 miles, and my old SUV hasn't been cranked in a year.  So I went to a local car lot yesterday just to browse around and found an older Buick still in great condition.  I know the dealer.  He's a decent dude who does his best to treat customers right, and I'm needing a new ride, and so I said I'd take the car.  And so I went to the bank here in town to get a loan . . . and that didn't work out.  It's one of those national chain banks, so you know the deal there.  The car was too old, had too many miles to suit their chart, so that was a no go.

Then I thought of Rowdy Slavin, my banker friend back up in the panhandle.  He was a senior in college when I took back over the rodeo program in 1996, so I knew him from that.  But then he went to work at a bank I'd been doing business with for some time, and he was the loan officer I dealt with.  And I still keep an account at that bank, which is where my retirment check goes.  So I called the bank and was told that Rowdy is now the big bossman, the President.  I called him and we chatted about old times, and then he told me to just go write the check for the car.  He'd send papers later, just needed the dealer to fax him a title and a few other papers.  And he did it at a low interest rate.  

I'm glad and sad now, both at the same time.  I've got a different car to drive (and it's a fancy car that will do me for a while, even if it is a few years old), and I know I've still got friends out there.  I'm still on the line, still hooked up with ties that count when the chips are down, and I'm grateful for that.  At the same time, though, I'm a little sad because I live 500 miles from these people, and I don't have those ties with folks I live around now.  Oh, I've got new friends, but a new friend is not like an old friend when it comes to ties.  And so I talk to somebody like Rick who tells me about people we both know and about his kids, and then to Rowdy who loans money to a man he's not seen in six years, and then tells me about his brother (who also is a friend) and . . .    Well, you get the point. Even writing about it chokes me up.

My grandpa used to say that a man needs to tend his fields, and he wasn't talking about just being a good farmer.  I don't like looking back too much because it reminds me of all the mistakes I made, but sometimes we get reminders that I must've done a few things right.  I've still got friends, still have ties.  I get a little lonesome and moody for a few days after old ties reel me in, take me back to times when those ties were being made, but that's life, I guess.  Maybe the thing I ought to remember is that life lived right does that for you because it's sure better to have good ties than bad ones.  Grandpa was right . . . and I've got good ties.

D. Paz, 10/24/07