‘Twas year before last
On Christmas Eve night,
Out here on the prairie,
It all looked to be right.
I was ridin’ with Moe,
Or he was ridin’ with me.
I get all confused
About which it should be.
Them stars up yonder
Was puttin’ off a shine.
“Yessir,” I says
“Night’s looking real fine.”
“Shut yer dern mouth,”
Moe tosses my way.
“You’ll jinx us fer sure
With them words that ya say."
“I ain’t callin’ on trouble.
I just made a observation.
It’s Christmas eve night,
You need some jollification”
It seemed near evr’ year
We spent our Christmas Eves
Buried deep in trouble
Clean up over our sleeves.
So, we’d went out to search,
It only made sense,
To head off our problems,
Looking from water to fence.
On a night of peace
‘n joy ‘n all such stuff
A smart cowhand knows,
Don’t all-in on a bluff.
We’d mounted on up,
And started castin’ about,
Lookin’ for our trials
Afore they sought us out.
“Them cows are all huddled
In the southwest pasture;
Seems to me they foretell
Of a coming disaster.”
He turned in his saddle,
His stubbled face twisted up,
His dander all stirred,
Like I done kicked his pup.
“There ya go again,”
Moe said shakin’ his head.
“Just button yer lips;
Quit spreadin’ your dread.”
“I ain’t hopin’ for bad,
If that’s what you mean.
I was just state’n the obvious
That both of us seen.”
“Well there such a thing
As too much bad news.
And whenever yer around
It just comes in twos.”
“Luck runs both ways,”
I grouched back at Moe.
“You ain’t no four-leaf clover,
Ner a white buffalo.”
“You got your own luck,
And it’s just bad as me.
Ain’t no sense complainin’
‘Bout somethin’ I see.”
We rode out the fence,
Countin’ all five,
Looking for a break,
A stretch, or a drive.
The sky was all gray,
Like dread hanging low.
The kind of ol’ sky
What might rain or might snow.
We counted their heads.
We counted them all.
Found one a missin’,
As her calf began to bawl.
I looked at Moe,
He nodded at me.
It was that mangy one horn,
None as stubborn as she.
It had to be her.
Well, of all the darn luck.
Ain’t no tellin’ just where,
She might get herself stuck.
We rode on along,
Checkin’ all that darn fence,
Lookin’ for any old sign,
Of that cow with no sense.
The sky began to change.
The wind began to rush,
As we headed for the river,
To search out the brush.
We dared not be caught,
Searchin’ there in a storm,
Or hours it might be
Afore a bedroll we’d warm.
We searched them all out,
Evr’ bramble, brush, n’ scrub.
But we couldn’t find a sign,
Of her nor her rub.
Back to the north,
We made our way slow;
Our hats pushed on down,
Faces slapped by the snow.
I hollered above the wind,
“I’ve found my Christmas wish.
A shack with a fire,
An’ hot beans in a dish."
No longer were those stars
As bright as could be.
Truth be on told,
Snow was all we could see.
Moe shouted out,
“We’ll do well to get home.
It’s best we go on in,
And let that lone cow roam.”
Up ahead, there was movement.
It just might be her.
But the way that snow was swirlin’
It was only a blur.
That shadowy figure,
Well, it got closer each step.
From down at my side,
I heard a growl from ol’ Shep.
We moved with caution,
Not sure what we’d find.
Them swirlin’ white flakes
Had left us near blind.
Then we both got a start,
When we looked up ahead,
And we saw this old man
A drivin’ a sled.
“Thought you two boys
Could sure use a hand.
I’m used to this stuff,
For me it’s just grand."
He had ol’ one horn
Tied to the back of that sleigh.
She was foller'n long
Like he was showin’ the way.
They moved right past,
Headin’ straight for the herd,
And we both foller'd on
Neither sayin’ a word.
Oh, we were mighty thankful,
And we planned to say so,
But he held up his hand,
And said, “I’ve gotta go.”
“The shack is warmed up,
And there’s beans in a pot.
Now you boys hurry along,
While your supper’s still hot.”
“And boys don’t forget
What began this here season,
T’was a little baby boy,
Born for only one reason.”
“So, when life’s storms stir,
Causing you to lose your way,
Just stop that old mare,
And take a second to pray.”
Most cowhands would consider,
That old man’s words to be true.
Though, I guess it might surprise,
Just under a few.
Livin’ on the land,
A man develops some relation,
With the One who’s in charge
Of all this here creation.
From the sky and the land,
To the wind and the rain,
From the calves and the cows,
To the grass on the plain.
Though we grumble and grouch
We all know the same,
When it all goes to the south,
We call on His name.
We watched as that sleigh
Cut through the snow,
Then lifted in air,
And off it did go.
I looked at Moe,
Or Moe looked at me.
We both shook our heads,
Thinking, “How can it be?”
Back in the shack,
Beans and biscuit on each plate,
We both did agree,
“We’ll never convince ol’ Nate.”
“It’s a story we could tell,
A thousand darn times,
And he’d call us both liars,
Reminding of our crimes.”
Spoons ‘ginst the plates,
The blow of the wind,
The crackle of the fire,
Quiet sounds began to blend.
Time passed slowly,
Our thoughts all tangled,
Wore out from the day,
Like a bull we’d just wrangled.
Flakes swirlin' out the window,
Moe voiced the question we both did ponder.
“You Reckon that old feller,
Really likes all the snow he gets up yonder?”
-- C.E. Lemieux, Jr.
Though nothing like the three misfit young men of the 1985 movie who find a way to travel through space, in our youth many of us were explorers. It seemed life has always been about exploring for me, and though I don’t get to do it as much as I used to, I do enjoy some exploring as an old guy.
As a kindergartner in San Diego, I had the habit of wandering off to the neighbors . Our neighborhood was dominated by older, retired individuals. The few kids who lived there were older than us. We lived in a cul-de-sac, and I liked to visit the folks out beyond the back gate, Mr and Mrs. Horn, or the Andersons. My wanderings earned a lock on the back gate, but they also got me a gig as a Ring Bearer in an Anderson wedding. The first time I wore a tux was at age five. There in that little court, even my three year old brother was a bit of an explorer, although he did most of his traveling by loading his belongings in the back of the pedal car and cruising around the yard.
In Kentucky, we followed along behind my grandfather as he took us down to the creek to eat peanuts, watching the shells float away as we tossed them over the side of the bridge. They appeared as little ships traveling upon the water. A ride in his dark blue LTD down to the company store for ice cream sandwiches offered a glimpse of the mining community. Sitting on the front porch listening to the stories and tales of uncles, friends, and neighbors expanded our minds and taught us the feel of fellowship.
When we moved to Jacksonville, my exploring continued. Though we weren’t supposed to migrate from our walk along the sidewalk to school, my best friend and I often wandered through the woods on our way home. It was on one of those treks that we stumbled — and I mean that in the true sense of the word, — stumbled upon something buried in the ground. As we examined the object in more detail, we found it was a walkie-talkie. Not one of these little one’s you see in the store these days, but one of those massive things you see in old war movies. Dang! We’re we excited. We couldn’t wait to get it home and mount it on our wooden go-cart.
When we got home, my mom gave what should have been an expected response, “Get that thing out of my house!” His mom gave a bit more thought to the situation and reported it to the police. Turns out it was used in a robbery, and we ended up going to court to testify as to our discovery, missing doughnut day at school Hey, at least we got the $40 bucks they paid for spending the day in court, along with some publicity in the local paper, a Cub Scout medal, and recognition by the Soroptimist Club.
In Virginia, nearly every day was an adventure. We lived just off the Elizabeth River which ran into the Chesapeake Bay. A little channel ran off the river behind our house. From a small dock, about 6ft square, we watched the tide roll in and out. When it pulled away, the tide left a muddy bottom where we watched crabs of different kinds, stranded minnows, and grass shrimp navigate over the glossy wet surface of the mud. Sometimes treasures were revealed as the water receded, washing away some of the surface dirt. Lost fishing lures, their blades twinkling in the sun, and discarded items which had floated off the bay captured and fueled childhood imagination.
The true delivery of treasures, many beyond our expectations, came upon the returning tide. As the water reclaimed the surface of the channel, it carried unexpected deposits. Wood of all kinds – plywood, timbers, framing wood, and driftwood of different sizes – would make its way to us floating upon the surface, getting captured among water grass, branches and cattails. Sheets, blocks, and chunks of foam washed in amongst the other debris. One of the most exciting discoveries was a bowling pin, though from this side of it I’m not sure why we were so thrilled to find it. I suppose it was something we never thought we’d own.
We’d gather the wood and foam, pilfer nails and hammers from dad’s garage, and assemble makeshift rafts; fooling ourselves into believing that one day we’d float off like Huck Finn and Jim. Instead we’d watch our creations float out with the tide and disappear down the river toward the bay, fortunately never brave enough to climb aboard.
In the wilds of No Man’s land, we explored on our bikes. My brother and his friends built huts and tree houses from spare lumber they gathered, creating adventures of their own. Sometimes we’d all hike to the dump to plink cans with the pellet gun, the 22 rifle or a pistol (of course, today seeing a group of kids with guns would set the town on fire). I and my friends followed the old railroad grade looking for spikes and timber nails, or walked along the highway picking up bottles to return for the deposit money. We’d ride out to the cemetery and read the inscriptions on the tombstones. Exploration and discovery were always at the core of our efforts.
As high school students, our travels expanded to dirt roads, lakes, ghost towns, museums, and eventually the mountains. We hiked trails, visited abandoned mines and rock quarries, fished, and panned for gold. We climbed up to the mountain tops and scanned the countryside where we could see for miles. We probably went some places that would scare me today.
As we moved out on our own, our trips took on longer travels, and deeper adventure. Trekking back into the mouth of an old silver mine, ice cold water up to our waists, turning off the flashlight and finding a darkness which was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and hearing our whispers echoing off the chiselled rock walls, will forever be a memory which remains anchored in my mind. Standing in the open of the marble quarry where they cut out the blocks of stone for the Lincoln Memorial, staring up into the openness and realizing there was still a mountain of rock above me, fills another slot in my memory bank. Backpacking to a crystal clear lake, camping and fishing for a week with an incredible group of young men and their Scout Master remains an honor and a fond recollection.
Charles Goodnight
Today, my explorations are a bit less exerting, but I enjoy them just the same. Visiting historic places, being able to say I was there, following the trails of other explorers, or visiting their monuments and graves are just a few of the ways I get to explore. Traveling to places I’ve never been, and seeking out some important piece of history expands my experiences.
Intersection from Castaway
Sometimes my wife gets to laugh or roll her eyes at where my curiosity takes us, like this trip down to an intersection in the middle of nowhere just north of Wheeler, TX where the ending of Castaway was filmed.
,Jesse Chisholm
Other times she either finds interest in, or at least reason to tolerate, my discoveries. Like when we visited the grave of Western Pioneer, Jesse Chisholm down a series of roads just north of Geary, OK. Where we were both amazed that out of all the inscriptions they could have put on the tombstone of the Father of the Chisholm trail they chose “No one left his home cold or hungry.”
I enjoy the side-trips. They make me feel like I’m still learning and discovering. I hope I never lose that desire to see new things and share experiences. It’s a big world out there. You never know what you’ll find.
