Drugstore Cowboy

I checked my watch as I pushed back from the free computer at the library. “It’s time to get to work,” I thought.  Leaving the computer room I turned to head for the front door and there he was. Seated at a bar table near my exit was a Drugstore Cowboy. Wearing a black cowboy hat, vest and red bandanna, he was dressed to the hilt. He was so still that he appeared like a life size model for some local interest display.

As I approached the exit he was guarding, I could not take my eye off him. Nothing moved, was he real or not. I stopped, turned and looked directly at him.

“You a dummy?” I blurted (the word mannequin escaped me) “Or are you real?”

“Ain’t no dummy…REAL!” the answer came. “Least I was at coffee this morning.”

What ensued was a good-natured conversation in which I learned that he was the real thing. He “cowboyed” in the mountains near Steamboat Springs, CO, still owned part of a ranch up there but was now living in Fruita to be near grand children.

I was impressed by his sense of unadorn self-confidence. “Comes from rubbing elbows with life on the range,” I thought. Never know what you are going to confront from day to day, with only ones courage and ingenuity upon which to draw. Separates the men from the boys, I have heard it said. This was definitely a man, gentle, good natured but a man. Impressive.

Reminded me of a chance meeting I had had in my traveling days as I boarded a plane for Billings, MT. Pushed my way to the back of the plane to find my seat in the cheep tail section. Was next to the window. Had to excuse myself as I climbed over the cowboy seated on the isle. We exchanged the usual amenities as I scoured my memory for famous western personalities I had seen on the big screen or TV. Finally, I ventured a guess. Risking appearing to be a dummy, I asked, “You Baxter Black?” (noted cowboy poet and philosopher.)

“Yep,” the other passenger replied.

I wanted to say, “You look just like your pictures.” But, that sounded too dumb. So, “Traveling to Billings?” was all I could manage.

“Yep,” came the reply. “Got a performance tonight there and one tomorrow in Bozeman. Excuse me while I put my brief case overhead.”

I told him that I was heading to Billings to catch a ride to Livingston and then on to a camp in the mountains. “You must travel continually,” I continued.

“Yeah good bit,” Black replied. “I travel lightly, two shirts in my briefcase. Use the one in the brief case tonight at Billings, and the one I got on in Bozeman tomorrow because they will not have seen this one yet.” We laughed.

Traveling light with only two shirts and a head stuffed with enough poems and earthy humor to keep folks on the edge of their seats for hours. He exuded the comfortable confidence of a seasoned performer.

We talked off and on in the short time we traveled to Billings. Inner confidence, I thought, can’t be purchased in some Sears and Roebuck Catalog. It is something that grows through life’s experiences and reflections. It comes from facing life’s back to back performances and freezing nights on the range. It is seen in the gentle eyes of a hardened survivor for his progeny and blossoms in the decision to be together in the waning years. It come from the real stuff of life.

A Blown Steriotype

On my way to work today I pulled up behind a Ford Ranger pickup at a busy intersection. Waiting on the light I began scanning the vehicle for clues about its driver. A large sign was posted in the rear window “Tune In To the Rock 106.9″ . I could hear thudding bass sounds throbbing from the cab.  “Kid,” I thought.

I continued my investigation. Hanging on the rear window was the telltale gun rack. “A redneck kid who happens to like Rock,” I then concluded.

A little to far to make out what caliber weapons were hanging on the rack, I surmised high-powered with large scopes, maybe even AK47, just as well go big when I was imagining. I drew closer.

As I moved within striking distance of the Ranger bumper the racks contents became clearer, fly rods and spinning gear. “What!” my head screamed. “This can’t be!”

What self-respecting kid with a gun rack and a Ranger would be carrying fishing gear where guns ought to be? I was stunned.  My mind couldn’t hold the dissonance.

Then I began to laugh at my propensity to build profiles with little information. 

SUPERLATIVES

I have become amused with our SUPERLATIVE language in an era when things are anything but ABSOLUTE or AWESOME!

Sensuous

Jim Tipton’s poetry actually swells the nostrils and moistens the tongue. Few can suggest associations that burst with such flavor and elicit so many instinctive emotions.

James Tipton is a Colorado Poet who now lives in Ajijic, Mexico, on the shores of Lake Chapala.

When Friends Get Together

FRUITA CAVALCADE  Born in the ramblin ’ inquisitive minds of Cullen and Jeannine Purser  and friends. Cavalcade is quickly birthing another community dream.

The Hot Tomato, Fruita’s fabulous eclectic pizzeria was born from the meeting of like minds on the corner of Mulberry and Aspen below the Fruita Masonic Lodge.  Unlikely place until you look around the intersection and discover other persons dreams in living color. Over the Edge Sports a Single Trackers paradise and Camilla’s Kaffe are directly across the street. Aspen Street Coffee the home of the incredible bean, wonderful goodies and ingenious conversation reaches its sidewalk umbrellas from the diagonal. Around these very cafe tables the flicker which was to become Cavalcade was fanned into full flame. Finally across Mulberry west waits a brewery in the corpse of a recent entreprenurial vision soon to be reborn as The Suds Brothers Micro.

All this is to say that Cavalcade is beginning to thrive in a neighborhood where ideas come to reality over night and draw on the spirit of a young community being reborn in a seedbed laid by a crazy poet, William Pabor, in the former millineum who dreamed of  Ute Indian country becoming a fertile garden fed by life giving canals from the Colorado River.  When you think of it, what better place to begin a new venture.

Cavalcade is a novel idea, people giving birth to the joy of being together and reveling in one another’s individual gifts. Fruita has long been a secret haven for artists and performers who share their gifts elsewhere and return to the cafe tables on Aspen for brew and friendly conversation. Cavalcade now offers a venue for a sharing among friends. This is what originally made Chautauqua, New York what it is today. Is Cavalcade another Chautauqua in the making? Who knows? For sure those who give it life are unconcerned with grandeur only giving expression to what is wholesome, pure and exciting from the human heart. What better place to begin.

Riding the City Bus (Engaging Milieu)

Milieu is a French word referring to our experience of changing environments. Milieu is a powerful reality the likes of which we are seldom aware. A frog, for example, dropped in a boiling pot of water will hop and flail attempting to free itself from the pot. The same frog, however, placed in the pot while the water is cold will remain unmoved until the surrounding water has made frog legs for dinner. We seldom realize the effects of culture upon us until we are already shaped by it.

I am now a city bus driver greeting a new culture from that of the church in which I have lived most of my life and career. The church by most standards is a rather genteel culture in comparison to that of the city bus. Most churches are a self selected “nice” people, or people who choose to be “nice” as long as they participate (though certainly there are some exceptions).

Buses however are seines cast into a sea of humanity. It is anybody’s best guess who will end up on the seat across from them. Conversations that “nice” people would never engage in are daily fare and relationships change with every stop depending on who gets on or off. It is a constantly changing community of necessity as it rumbles to each next destination. There are those who ride to get somewhere and those who do not. There are those who ride because it is affordable, and those seeking a new experience. There are those going to work and those getting off. There are families, school kids, pimps, pushers, and lovers; joy riders, appointment rushers, excursionists and lunch goers. Young and old find seats together, persons whole of body and soul and those who struggle.

Riders, even for the few moments they are aboard, find their day altered. It is a self selected enforced community of waiting, and so much happens in the short time you are aboard. Those who open themselves to the experience can soon feel sensorial overload. Those who have found coping mechanisms engage them immediately upon entry. To continue a metaphor, riding a city bus is a beautiful reminder that we are swimmers in an ocean of relationships that is constantly changing our experience and our being (Rilke).

Buddhist Monks Coming!

The monks from the Gaden Shartse monastery are still on their celebrated Sacred Earth and Healing Arts Tour in the United States.  Good News! They will be in Grand Junction, Colorado during the week of July 15th through the 20th.  During this time they will conduct a number of organized and hosted events, including:  healing and cleansing empowerments, meditation training, and a one day retreat, during which skills that we learned during the week can be practiced. As always, these events are open to the public. There will also be opportunities to have personal healings, house blessings, and business blessings. A full schedule, venues for the events, and further information will be available soon. In the meanwhile please visit the Gaden Shartse Cultural Foundation website at http://www.gadenshartsecf.org/ .