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9/14/2004

Fences Are For Grown Ups

I grew up on Cowboys & Indians. Some days I was the hero ridin’ into town ta save everyone from the bad guys. Some days I was the bad guy. (I used ta think I “died” purty good when a neighbor boy or one of my cousins or even my sister would shoot me). Other days I was an Indian. I even had my own rubber knife and lance.  
It was easy imagining the open prairie out in the pastures. I would go on long walks with my dog, Sailor. He was a trusted companion. We even had a “cave” hideaway that was actually an old concrete bridge that had somehow escaped being completely demolished when a new modern bridge was put in right next to it. It only passed about half way under the road and was caved in and blocked off at that end. Some brush grew up in front of the opening, so we really thought it was our own secret place.  
We had plenty of horses to ride the country side. There was Dee, Babe, Ginger, and Buck. I still have a picture of me on Ginger when I was about 2 years old. Rolling prairie, long mysterious shelter belts (tree rows) fields of alfalfa, wheat and milo all beckoned me to explore and imagine.  
I guess a lot of the experiences of my childhood shaped my future. I didn’t have computer games or cell phones or color TV. But, I had my imagination and the imagination of friends and family to create any world of my choosing… No Boundaries! I guess I haven’t changed all that much. Still don’t like fences. 
So Long, 
The Cowboy 

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