Never let me have to tell someone I’m a cowboy…

by Kevin on July 25, 2012

So I posted the picture below on our Facebook Fan Page and some people understood it…others totally missed the point.

Except for one man.

I was so impressed with his comment, I asked him if I could share it with y’all.


Let me introduce you to a cowboy from Pampa, Texas. His words are true and honest.

In most cases, being a cowboy starts as you are learning to walk. The pride in being a cowboy is not a wild rag and a hat, it’s what you learn from your dad, maybe an uncle, and the great older cowboys you are blessed with getting to work with and watch, and listen to. They are such a blessing to you in things like developing a caring heart and great manners.

This is a big part of being a cowboy, and as Lebow stated, “If you have to try to tell someone what a great cowboy you are, then you are a fool, and everyone knows it but you.”

The job of a cowboy is such a blessing and comes from paying attention to your comrades. If you ask another, more experienced cowboy a question, and he answers, “I ain’t sure about that son, lets check it out.” You can probably trust that feller.

Those old half crippled, sunburnt cowboys helped me and showed me what and how to do the job. I have been so blessed to have worked with some great ones.

Thanks for letting me state my opinion, and fellers, thanks for being a cowboy, its a tradition we need to preserve, you would have to understand it…to do it….

Jay Riley

Thank you Jay!! Thank you for cutting straight to the heart of the matter and for being one of those cowboys that understand.

I want to say thank you to my dad, Paul Weatherby, and Ralph Hager for being the kind of role models that every cowboy needs.

Who are your cowboy or cowgirl role models?

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  • I remember seeing this circulating around Facebook a few days ago, and think that Mr. Riley put it simply and accurately. Great words from someone who clearly understands what it means to be a great person, cowboy or not. These are words to be applied to life; humility is notoriously adaptable to any situation.

  • Caryl Velisek

    This is so true. Cowboy is not a place designation as some I’ve talked to think it is. And it’s not something you have to be born into. Believe me, I know. It is all the things stated above and so much more. There’s just something about taking care of a bunch of cattle that brings humility – and thankfulness to God for putting you there. And I thank God for having had my cowboy and my life every day.

  • Jake

    Amen, Jay. You just can’t see him from the road….

  • Caryl Velisek

    I just have to make a comment about “those ol’ half crippled, sunburnt cowboys”. I was at a spring cattle show this year here in Maryland after someone had mentioned all the injuries they had received while working with cattle, so I tried to notice those around me more closely. I was really kind of astounded, even tho’ I have a few of those injuries and dings myself, at the number of cowgirls and cowboys around the show ring that limped or were bent over or showed some other sign of injury, most likely from their association and work with livestock. I guess you have to love what you do no matter the consequences.

    • Caryl after reading your comments about consequences and doing what you love, I just had say how true you are. In the last few months I have been busting hard putting in 15 to 16 hour days clearing brush, building fence, and mowing weeds. I told my wife “Hard work has never killed any one.” She replied “No but it will cripple you.” I’m fully aware of my fate. My father and other cowboys I know where using walkers by the age of 67 some much sooner. As a rancher I pay to get to do this, but it is only job that brings me joy and without ranching I would be empty.

  • Caryl Velisek

    I published a book a couple of years ago, “I Studied To Be An Opera Singer, But I Married A Cowboy”, all true short stories. The Prologue is one of my poems that sort of sums it up as follows:
    He never rode a roundup,
    But Lord, he loved to ride.
    And in his soul he was a cowboy,
    From his hide to deep inside.
    He loved to work with cows and calves,
    It was pretty plain.
    And I remember somethin’
    He said time and time again,
    “There’s nothin’ quite like seein’
    In the pink dawn after night,
    A mama cow with her calf in tow.
    There just ain’t a purtier sight.” – Caryl

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