Nostalgia & Small Towns

This past weekend I went to a horse show in a small city close by and photographed one of the contestants. I walked around the stalls and noticed a pair of boots, well worn, and laying nonchalantly with the riders things. The abundance of dust tells me that the owner spends a lot of time with his horse and doesn't really care about how he looks. 

These boots caught my eye too. The horse trainer came over for a chat. She kept moving her feet around until the spur lay on top of her other boot.  I thought how odd it was that someone would stand for a period of time like this. 

The love of old cars is the dream of many. As I was driving home I saw this car and was taken back to my childhood.  The cars were large and roomy inside. The steering wheel was as big as a pizza and the radio had knobs that you turned to find the music that you love. The only way to cool off was by rolling the window down. 

Those old cars needed gas. When I saw this old gas pump I was very excited and felt like I had really gone back in time.  It was a James Dean moment. Even though I was a child of the 60's, I really appreciate living now with all of the luxuries that we have. That is, except for those people who have their cell phones stuck under their noses all of the time. They get on my nerves. 

For the love of your country, Sing!

It was dark except for the light that illuminated the flag. Our flag. My flag. The flag that stands for freedom.  With hands firmly placed over their hearts, the cowboys sang. But not just any song. They sang the Star Spangled Banner. You know the words...And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. I sang, and sang loudly as tears welled up in my eyes. The music played over the loudspeakers, while three soft southern voices sang along. I stopped and tried to listen to the audience. It was silent except for the loudspeakers. It was the lack of singing that set me on edge. Did anyone in the audience except me know the words? 

I have noticed this before in other places where our national songs are performed but no one sang along. Why? The evening started off with a prayer. That's good. Where has our national pride gone to?  I love my country! I will say it again. I love my country!  So, whenever one of "our songs" are being sung, you can count on me to sing. It will be the sound of one voice singing with pride for a place that she loves. 

An unreasonable request for Santa

It was two weeks before Christmas. A friend and I went to see a high school musical.  The auditorium was filled to capacity.  Parents, grandparents, brothers, and sisters filled every seat. But towards the back and in the middle sat a man. His red suit, natural long grey beard, and his big belly set him apart from the others.  I think that Santa made an early appearance this year.  

When intermission was announced my friend and I went out to the hall and filled our tins with cookies. On the way back we noticed that Santa was no longer sitting down but standing in the corner by himself.  We looked at each other and the wheels starting turning in my mind. I am going to have some fun with this man. Then my friend asked me if I would like to talk to Santa.  Knowing that I would never see him again, I felt a bit mischievous. "Of course, let's put our order in." 

We smiled at Santa as we approached like a hyena about ready to pounce on their prey. Then I told Santa that we would like to put our order in for Christmas.  He asked what we wanted. "Cowboys", I said, and then we burst into uproarious laughter. " Not just one cowboy, but we each need a cowboy." Santa stood there speechless holding my arm so that I wouldn't get away before he could find something to say. "Don't leave I am trying to think of something." he said. The silence seemed to last an eternity as we waited for a response. Tired of waiting,  I went on to say, " I don't think that there are that many cowboys in this area." Then Santa finally said, " You may have to settle for cut outs then." My friend and I looked at each other knowing that this was our exit cue. 

We headed towards our seats. "All Santa could offer was cut outs?" I said.  "No wonder kids stop believing in Santa.  If he cannot get you what you want then why bother asking." Then we burst out laughing again. 




The Santa picture came from here. 

Exposing feet to the world that have been in hibernation...

Happy Feet

I love cowboys and Chad Prather is hilarious. We've all seen those people who turn a blind eye when it comes to their feet.  Well, this guy tells you like it is when it comes to exposing what has been in hibernation for nearly six months. Maybe I need to pay attention to what he is saying too! Excuse me while I go shave my legs, there was a little neglecting going on there as well. 

Cowboys and a Tiara

I had been thinking about getting a tiara for a long time.  Every time I would go to the craft store there they would be, all lined up in the bridal area. Sparkling like the sun shines on the water. They would look lovely on little girls when I took their picture, I told myself. Trying to justify the purchase in my mind. And I really wanted one. Every once in a while the craft store would have coupons for 40% off and there was one burning a hole in my pocket. I picked up each tiara and inspected it as if it were the crown jewels. Eventually, I settled for a small one with small clear crystal flowers. At 40% off the purchase wouldn't seem so extravagant. 

I brought it home and took it out of the package. It was lovely.  I placed it on my head and felt giddy with delight. My sweatpants, tee shirt and mismatched socks were a stark contrast to my head, but I didn't care. What mattered was that I felt beautiful. I looked in the mirror and smiled. You don't look so bad, I told myself. 

The next day, I was digging around in a wooden box for a piece of clothing and found a book that I had forgotten about.  It was oversized and didn't fit on my bookshelf.  So it ended up in the box. The book is called, The Tennesseans by Barry Parker and Robin Hood (seriously). The pages are full of beautiful photographs of the state of my birth. As I leafed through the book my eyes landed on three cowboys. They were fine specimens of the male gender, with their hats sitting low on their brow and thumbs tucked securely on each side of the belt buckle which snugly fit around each man's waist. Chaps donned their thighs and a couple men held ropes. I placed the book on my coffee table and thought that if I needed cheering up I would take a look at the cowboys and dream as I passed through the room. 

A friend came over for dinner the following evening.  Forgetting that I had left the book open on the table, I opened the door to let her in. Immediately, her eyes focused on the coffee table.

"So, you have been looking at cowboys?", She asked. I was a little embarrassed that she discovered my secret. 

"Why yes I have and they are in Williamson County, Tennessee," I said. "I didn't know there were cowboys in Tennessee. Maybe we need to go on a road trip. Aren't there cowboys in England?" I asked. (She is English)  

"No, but there are farmers and they can act tough, but they don't ride horses." She said, as she made her way to the kitchen table.  I had a hard time imagining that an Englishman could act tough and decided to talk about something else. Since she had caught me in one secret I thought that I might as well tell her about my other one." I bought a tiara." I said. 

My friend burst into laughter. " Now Jeannie, this Princess Diana complex has just got to stop. Why did you buy a tiara anyway?"

"For my photography," I said. " I thought that little girls would like it." 

She gave me a don't lie to me look and asked me if that was really why I bought the tiara.  "Okay,I really wanted one. I wore it for a long time the other night and I felt beautiful while I worked at the computer, even though I was wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt." 

"Do you wear the tiara while you are naked and walking around the house?" She asked. 

"Well, yeah! Please don't tell anyone because I don't want people to think that I am weird." 

For the love of Cowboys

Photo courtesy of DreamWorks Studios

When I think about men, which is often, I think about those macho types who come to rescue a damsel in distress. My mind automatically goes to the Wild West. A cowboy walks into the saloon with his hat tilted forward on his brow, the ruggedly handsome face hidden by shadows. His footsteps are heavy as his boot spurs make a clunking sound with every step. There is no need for a words, because he has spoken volumes already with just his presence.  I know that not all men are rough and tough, sometimes I wish that they were.   

A friend of mine asked me to photograph her family members while at a reunion.  I gladly brought my camera and began shooting pictures.  About an hour later a man walked in.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him.  I turned my head to get a better look at the man. A cowboy. My heart skipped a beat at the vision I saw.  Sitting on his head was a hat made of straw with a decorative band neatly placed above the brim. His Texas style button down shirt with rolled up sleeves worn with tight fitting jeans caused my mind to go back to the saloon I envisioned earlier. His boots, pointed toe and all, finished off his ensemble. 

"I need your picture," I bravely said. "You look great!" 

He asked if his picture would end up on Facebook or some place similar. "Most likely," I said.  Then we made our way outside. 

"Can you try to look macho for me please?" 

"Cowboys aren't macho anymore," he said.  I beg to differ with him.