The Wild West

Today's offering is something a little different. While this is a poem I wrote about a particular moment with my young son, it captures a host of other moments that most of us parents have experienced. My reason for choosing it today, however, is that the passing of Ronald Reagan causes me to look back over his past and the western movies which made him so popular. There is a certain set of American ideals in which the "good guys" and "bad guys" are clearly delineated. The good guys wore white hats and always seemed to triumph at the end of the story. Reagan was one of those good guys and the type of heros he portrayed on screen spilled over into the public persona he took on during his political career. We need more good guys in the world. While this is something of a unusual tribute, it is also a reminder to all of us parents and grandparents to zealously watch over the role models we offer to our younger generation and what kind of character lessons they teach. As one hero rides off into the sunset of American history, may others rise who shall prove worthy of the legacy of their predecessors. Happy trails.

The Wild West
"Way back when ... when the west was wild,"
I'd begin, as I sat with my oldest child
On many a stormy winter night
In our favorite chair by the firelight
Then I'd weave a tale 'bout the days of old
Of Indian scouts and miner's gold
A tale of posses, stampedes and drought
That would always end with a big shoot-out
The good guy would win, like he always does
My son would ask, "Why?" I'd reply, "because ...
That's just the way it ought to be
And that's how the story sounds good to me."
And that always seemed to be enough
For he never bothered to call my bluff
We'd sit and watch the fire a while
Then he'd turn to me with the faintest smile
And timidly ask, "Could you tell one more?"
So I'd do a story like the one before
With wild horses and buffalo
And the code of the west and Geronimo
With sandstorms, thunder, a cattle drive
And posters that read, "Wanted dead or alive"
And the end we expected all along
Then I'd close with a soft, sad cowboy song
And my little man would nod to sleep
On my lap with his cowboy dreams to keep
So I'd stay and rock him there a while
With a heart content, and the faintest smile
For among my memories, those are the best
Just my boy and I ... and the wild west
By Frank Carpenter ©