Cowboy dreams...
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A gentle man with a deep soul, I've been described as. Personally I think I've inherited the trait from my grandfather but like most folks, we borrow from our own experience and environment. I have my moments when perhaps I'm not so gentle but somehow I stop myself from acting on stupidity and emotion. I take deep breaths. I know how to change the course of my actions before they get me in trouble. I feel blessed about that most times. I think it's better look back with embarrassment than to look back in shame...
Can you believe it? Today I wanted to kick the ass of this doctor I'd seen mistreating and talking down to a woman who was merely trying to help him. He treated her so badly that I couldn't resist stepping in. I had to say something. My eyes turned to fire. I could feel my insides boiling. The doctor said he mean't no harm but the damage seemed done as the woman's head hung low. I kept my cool as certain words that wanted to escape from my lips, remained locked away inside that part of my brain which just wanted so badly to spit out curse words. I'm not even sure why I got so mad but the positive is that my anger didn't last long. I was smiling and laughing five minutes later. I'd decided not to let the situation get the best of me... I've been happy as of late. Happy for no special reason and not because of love or anything else unless you're talking about love of self and excited about the future. I'm doing okay... I'm doing good.
One thing that got the best of me this past weekend was my disappointment in something that really should be a yearly event to look forward to and to be talked about until the next time it rolls around. I'm talking about a show that is supposed to represent black folks in a way that is glossed over and not really looked upon as something we were apart of in "his-story." I'm speaking of the old west and the disappointment was in the Bill Pickett Rodeo, which I watched last Saturday.
I grew up with cowboy dreams. My father taught me what he knew about the history and then he bought me a book that featured stories about Nat Love aka Deadwood Dick, Isom Dart, Rufus Buck, The Buffalo Soldiers, Stagecoach Mary, One Horse Charley, Bill Pickett and Texas John Slaughter. My father would use John Slaughter as his handle for when he'd be on the road talking to truckers with his CB radio. I guess I grew up with that sort of romantic view of cowboy life, if you will. It didn't hurt that I had a grandfather who was the perfect image of a tall in the saddle cowboy. I guess I say all that to say that when a show with the responsibility of history on it's shoulder rolls into town, they should come with the goods! They should bring the best talent they can find, teach everyone about the past, and demonstrate how special the future can be simply because we always continue to celebrate who we are... The Bill Picket rodeo failed to do that on a major scale as the best part of the show came at the very end when they unleashed all the wild horses into the arena and the entire crowd stood in appreciation of such beautiful animals running free. Those organizers should take note and try to make the entire show a representation of freedom. The kind of freedom that uplifts, inspires and says "we are an amazing people!" That show didn't make me feel amazing. It felt like a show with people going through the motions; retracing the same uninspired steps they took last year. They need to pass the torch if they can't represent with passion and pride... Give it to me! ==smile==
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