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For the life of me

Tales from the ONO Ranch
Mad Jack Hanks
Wellington, Colo.

I have heard folks say, “for the life of me,” but never “for the death of me!” Wonder why that is?

I think it’s because we just don’t like to talk about the subject of death. We don’t, we just don’t. It’s almost like “yeah, they ain’t gonna’ get me, I ain’t going!”

When I was laying out in the pasture and the EMTs had asked me twice if I had a living will and then, “Jack, if for any reason you stop breathing, do you want us to resuscitate you?” The thought crossed my mind, “hey bud, you could be in bigger trouble than you think!” I had so much morphine that I was sorta’ in la la land anyway and it didn’t seem to be any big deal. I mean it, I had the thought that “heck, dying can’t be all that bad!”

Little Miss Martha made her funeral plans as to what she wanted to wear and who she wanted to carry her casket. Gentle readers, I was amazed at how calm she was at that time. She was buried in a denim dress with straps that resembled that of overalls and a white blouse. Very plain, very country and yet so Martha! As for me, a pair of Wranglers, white shirt, no tie, no boots and comb the moustache! Keep it simple. I’m not a complicated guy.

“At my age one starts to consider the possibility of one’s demise at any time and truth is, I am not that concerned about it all.”

While listening to the talk radio this morning after having coffee with my buds at the sale barn, I heard a report of Mesa College asking for deceased folks to be given to them so they can study how fast bodies decay. Yep, they just put them outside and let the students watch the day to day decaying process in their dry climate.

Well, an unexpected thing happened. Cats began to find the bodies and began to eat them starting with the arms. Uck!

How gruesome is that? So I reckon if you die alone at home and nobody knows and your cat or cats get hungry, you don’t need to worry about them getting fed! I don’t have any cats as I’m just not a cat person and, at present, no dogs, either. I wouldn’t mind dying here in the ol’ Lazy Boy but maybe not so much outside. The neighbor’s cat makes it over here from time to time and I’m a fair sized lad at six foot two and 195 pounds.

At my age one starts to consider the possibility of one’s demise at any time and truth is, I am not that concerned about it all. I had some goals to reach when I was a young man. One was to be able to “cowboy” in the Rockies and be somewhat successful as an artist, marry a good woman and have happy, well-adjusted kids that respected and loved their mom and dad. That all came to pass. But, hey, it’s a brand new year and I’m excited to see spring and summer just around the corner. I have adventures to claim and file away in the ol’ memory as time passes!

Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion, remember every day you are making memories, good or bad! Make them good if you can and I’ll c. y’all, all y’all! ❖


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