In a Sow’s Ear
To quote Sureva Towler, author of “The Boys at the Bar ” Antics of a Vanishing Breed of Cowboys & Hellions” (Johnson Books, Boulder Colo.): “The West is always being reinvented by change, much of it prompted by the invasion of railroads, mines, drought, and fast-buck artists. The latest challenge comes from overeducated, underemployed baby boomers who build second homes, wings on the arts center, and parks dedicated to their children.”
Sureva has sure pegged that right. The West is changing faster than a tsunami. Since the earth got invented, change has been a relentless perpetual-motion engine driving people and animals faster and faster. While “change” may be an unalterable fact, still, it’s hard to accept that our “way of life” is being usurped, commandeered, disrupted and ” disrespected.
The following may be recited or if you’re brave or foolish or both, you can sing to the tune of “Yellow Rose of Texas.”
Bruce, the Baby Boomer
He has got an MBA from a fancy business school,
He’s made a pile of money; a CEO ” he’s cool;
He has got a trophy woman, his second wife, she’s thin,
And wears ten pounds of face paint, she’s smart and full of vim.
They came out West to build a home upon the highest hill
Where they can host some parties for others of their ilk;
And the kitchen is as vast as a football field it seems,
And the living room’s as plush as the palaces of queens.
And the bathroom has odd gadgets, gold faucets and bidet,
And patios with fountains designed the Feng Chui way;
And they don’t like cattle roaming where they might want to run,
For stepping in cow poopie they don’t consider fun.
And they drive big fancy Hummers or maybe SUV,
No, they don’t drive no dented stuff; cuz they want folks to see
That when they drive around town, you’re sure to be impressed,
And they sparkle when they greet you to let you know you’re blessed.
But they don’t know about dryland or irrigating grass,
They don’t know how to spray weeds or even what to ask;
They cry so when they get stuck behind a band of sheep
Or cattle on the county road; their Hummer horn they beep.
But out here in our true West we don’t go for French wine,
A whiskey ditch is the best to make us feel just fine;
And we don’t play chamber music; it makes us roll our eyes,
We’d rather sing some cowboy songs under the Western skies.
So if you want to live here don’t try to change our ways,
Just keep your big improvements; that’s what we’ll always say;
When you talk and brag you’re smarter; we think you’re very strange,
Cuz we prefer the way we are; we do not want to change.
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