I always wanted to be a cowboy. Rooster Cogburn, John McClintock (both John Wayne), Josie Whales, and the Preacher (both Clint Eastwood) lived by a code. They were tough, honest, carried a gun, rode horses, had dogs, protected the innocent, and usually ended up with the cute school teacher, preacher or farmer's daughter. What little boy wouldn't like that? Come to think of it I can't imagine many grown men how would turn up their nose at that life.
It's the American Dream. But life had other plans in store for me, and I am not a cowboy. I don't rope or ride or carry a six shooter. But the cowboys of the silver screen are still some of my favorite heroes.
Last year for Christmas my buddy Greg sent me a copy of Cowboy Values by James P. Owen. It's a great book. I was thinking about that book the other day and it dawned on me that I am not John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, or any of the formidable men whom they portrayed. In the spectrum of Cowboys I'm probably more of a Hoss Cartwright. At first that thought bothered me a little bit. Hoss was a supporting character with a goofy hat. He never really end up with the respect that some of the other Cartwrights enjoyed.
But then it dawned on me that Hoss might have been the best of cowboys. He lived by a code of honor. He seemed to enjoy life, love his family, and treat people with respect. Don't get me wrong, if someone was messing with Pa, Joe, or Hop Sing Old Hoss could be mean in a fight. But he was more likely to beat the snot out of you, then help you up and buy you a beer.
That's the kind of cowboy I'd be. Like Hoss. Maybe not as tough and scary as the Duke, but that's ok. It takes all kinds of cowboys to make up the Wild West.
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