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| My daughter's debut at the Gerry Rodeo 2012 She is in turquois in the center the "cowgirl". |
I grew up in "Rodeo City"
It might have been watching Bonanza after
school for all those years, or maybe wanting to be closer to my oldest sister
Penny – who was a horse lover, but somehow a fire was ignited in me. I had a burning desire to be a cowgirl.
Some of my very first memories
of horses were from my experiences at the Gerry Volunteer Fire Department’s
PRCA rodeo. Putting on this rodeo was a
community affair. For the youngest child to the oldest citizen of our town; jobs
were created to match the needs of the rodeo production. After someone’s parent would wash the
silverware the youngest of volunteers would dry it and sort it. Other youngsters would roll a knife, fork and
spoon up into a napkin placing the silverware in a big tin pan. They were preparing for the
still-famous Barbecue Beef Dinner.
It’s served prior to the show all five days; the show runs from
Wednesday to Sunday during the month of August.
Each morning at the crack of
dawn the early risers would meet under the tent situated near the dining hall of the rodeo
grounds. Together the women and
occasional man or boy would “eye the potatoes”.
We had large machines that would tumble the skin right off of the
potatoes. All we had to do is peel out
the eyes and size the potatoes. The
locals just love to come have coffee in the dusky mornings together to start
their rodeo day. Many days the mother’s would
bring their young children down and we would have garbage crew picking up garbage all
over the grounds and the occasional rock crew removing small stones and rocks from
the arena. This task made the barrel
racers very happy, I’ve been thanked for improved arena conditions many times over the years.
You also might find a group of kids under the bleachers looking for money. It’s amazing how often coins jingle out of
pockets and onto the ground when rodeo fans are jumping up and down cheering on
their favorite cowboy or cowgirl.
Starting at about five o’clock
some of the older volunteers would sit on a high wooden stool in a little
concrete booth selling tickets to get into the show. I call the rodeo a show because at that time,
I didn’t realize that it is actually a sport.
I’m not very athletic, so I don’t usually like to watch sporting
events. But rodeo was a different story.
Our rodeo was a great accomplishment, having survived over five
decades. Everyone in the town had
stories to tell.
I love GVFD rodeo best because it feels
like a family reunion. Many families
that have been spread across the country side, as the children began careers and
families of their own, would pick rodeo week to return home, knowing that the
rodeo grounds provided an easy gathering spot, dinner and entertainment.
I’m committed to being a great
spectator. I’ll sit through rain, sleet,
power outages, downed horses, injured cowboys and even during my own
sickness. I feel a powerful connection
to the show before me. The glitz,
glamour and talent of the specialty acts gets to me. It grabs me by the heart and captures my
attention. JW Stoker, a gentleman cowboy
in clean pressed western outfits, swinging his ropes and jumping through them
makes me gawk. Later when he comes out
on a speeding horse doing acrobats on and off of the horse at full gallop, I
gasp.
After the rodeo is over each
night the band plays Thanks for the Memories & Happy Trails, old western tunes. I stand on the top bleacher as a school aged
girl and look out back into the contestants camping area, listening for the
cowboy and cowgirl voices above the drone of the goodbye lyrics. I can barely discern the western twang and
laughter around the already lit campfires over the voices of other rodeo fans
as they exit the rodeo bleachers. I
however, don’t move from my spot, dreaming of what it would be like to live on
the rodeo road.