Are we having fun yet?

"Are you floating or walking?" That had become the question of the day on our recent float trip. We were bone tired, hungry, thirsty, and were just a little cynical of our leader's decision making abilities.

Oh, I forgot.....There's no leader in sight!

The first day of a floating/fishing trip is always filled with optimism. We were up at 5:00am, had our fishing equipment and boats loaded in the truck and on the road to Arkansas by 6:30am. It's about a 5-6 hour trip by the time you allow for pit stops, lunch, and a short shopping stint at Bass Pro in Springfield (another story for another time).

In past years we've met up with our group at the cabin, then proceeded to the river for a short float on the first day. Of course last year the river was at flood stage and all of our floats were "short, fast & furious".

This year would be different!

We had noticed how dry everything looked during the drive over, and it was evident that there had been very little rain for a few weeks. So when we arrived at the river we weren't surprised to see the water much lower than the year before. It may have been lower, but it was crystal clear and very inviting.

It was 3:00pm and time to launch. We'd be finished with this eight mile float before dark; plenty of time for some refreshments and a nice dinner.....

Within a couple hundred yards we hit our first snag, literally. There wasn't enough water in the shallow spots to keep our pontoon boats afloat. Not a problem, we just stood up and dragged the little boats through the shallows and into the next pool.....and again, and again, and again....float and walk, float and walk, slip and fall, bang your knee on a rock, bruise your shin on the boat....all the way down the river!

"Hey, how much farther 'til we reach our destination?" No answer from our leader.

There was a stiff wind in our face, and all of us were struggling to make headway against it. We were getting no assistance from the current since there wasn't enough water to create a downstream flow. Someone wisecracked, "Maybe if we turn our boats around and row backwards it'll be easier....you know, the wind will be at our back instead of in our face!" I won't divulge the identity of the person who uttered that little gem.

Anyway, I think you get the "drift".  After lots of walking, lots of rowing, and lots of sarcasm, we found ourselves gazing at the stars, which were beautiful by the way, and about two-thirds of the eight mile float was behind us. The stars were bright, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. It was dark, but at least we weren't lost.....we were still on the river.....

"Are you walking or floating?  "I can't see you."

"I can't see anything".

"Are we there yet?"

"If we go under the bridge, we've gone too far."

No one had a flashlight. No one had drinking water. No one had thought to bring a sandwich. Did I mention that it was also dark!

It was approaching 11:00pm when we heard a car and glimpsed it's headlights piercing the darkness across the bridge. We knew we were nearing the end of the journey.....

"Hey Wayne, why don't you hit the alarm button on your key so we can see where your truck is parked?"

"Yeah, that's a great idea."

"What do you mean, the keys are in the truck???"

It was fun and we'll probably do it again......but as always, what do I know?

No one knows it all....

I live on a small ranch/farm and know all too well the difficulties of making sure that everything that needs to get done...gets done! It's a constant battle to ensure that fences are in good repair, cattle are checked daily, pastures are sprayed, and on and on and on....

So what's the big deal, you say. You made the decision to live that lifestyle and the hard work that goes with it. And, of course, you would be correct. It's a lifestyle that's like no other, except for that of an owner of a small business. Now, that's hard work!

Oh, but wait; Owning a small ranch or farm is the same as owning a small business.....they are one in the same.

A few weeks ago I was invited to speak at a gathering that was identified as a Farmers and Businessmen Banquet.  My opening line was something to the effect that "How do you differentiate between the two?"  It was met with a resounding "thumbs-up".

Both vocations, small business ownership and farming, require  a commitment to long days, multiple disciplines, and a willingness to seek help when you need it. In my case, help is something I seek on a regular basis. I know when I'm in over my head, and know enough to find someone who can give me the guidance I need. There's nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it, and believe me it's far better than beating your head against the wall when you don't know the answer yourself.

My day job is that of a business coach, and I'm constantly coaching business owners on the "how-to" of starting and operating a business. How's the best way to market your product? Is it better to lease or purchase a piece of equipment? Is it better to be an LLC or Sole Proprietorship? Then, they ask "How am I supposed to know all of this stuff?"

My answer is, you shouldn't even consider trying to know how to do it all. That's a sure-fired way to run your business into the ground. Concentrate on the things you do best, and get help with the things you either don't know how, or don't like to do. Otherwise, those things will probably get done poorly, or not get done at all.

The moral of the story is; No one is an expert at everything, and there is nothing to apologize for when you need to ask for help......In fact, it's probably the smartest decision you'll make.

I politely declined the request....twice!

All my life I've had very little interest in all things political, and no desire whatsoever to throw my hat into the ring.  Still don't......

"Jack we think you'd be a great County Commissioner! Why don't you run for the seat that's up in your district?"

 It wasn't so much a question as it was a plea from an acquaintance who had just experienced an exasperating hour pleading his case in front of the three men who govern the affairs of our County.

That was eight years ago, and I was fairly new to the County.

I politely declined his request.

Four years later, and more than one person approached me with the same suggestion.....run for office!

Again, it's not that I'm not a concerned citizen, but it just didn't feel right. I was busy with a couple of different business ventures and trying to learn the cattle raising thing at the ranch. I didn't need the distraction of public office.

Once again, I declined.

Here it is four years later, I've sold one of the businesses, and the cattle business is less intimidating to me than it was a few years ago. Earlier this year I was told that the incumbent was planning to retire and it was time for me to get off my duff and run for the seat that was evidently going to be vacant.

I said that I'd think about it....

Now, I've picked up the filing papers and have commenced gathering signatures for a "filing by petition" which I've been told is the best way to approach a political campaign. I have until June 1st to either turn in the papers or bow out gracefully. I suppose I'll turn them in to the Court House, and announce my official candidacy for County Commissioner....

What am I thinking.....

I suppose it still comes around to that old "What do I know?"

I swear it wasn't me.....

When I was kid my folks bought a little two bedroom house and moved the family to town. We had always lived in rented houses "out in the country" so everyone seemed to be excited about the move. Now, I can't imagine wanting to leave the country life for the city.

But, I was only four when we moved into the house, and soon learned to tune out the sights and sounds that were far different than the ones to which I was accustomed; the whistle of the train that was hauling crude oil to the refinery, the stink of the refinery itself, and of course the constant rumble of the trash trucks heading past our house to the city dump.

Location, location, location.....I'm not sure my parents were made aware of that rule of thumb when buying their first piece of real estate. But, as a youngster, I learned to appreciate some of the opportunities it provided.

If a person was not averse to risk, he might hitch a ride on the back of one of the slow-moving trains and cut the walk down to the river trestle by half. Then, upon arrival at the bridge, one might learn how to swing down from the outside edge over the river, and drop to the concrete pillars that supported the trestle. Not many people were aware of the 2x12 timbers that formed a little crawl space under the bridge, but for those who were either brave or foolish enough to crawl out to the middle of the river, it was a great place to hang out.

I'm not aware of anyone who had the nerve to jump into the river as it flowed over the rocks below, but it was not because it wasn't discussed at length. For the most part, it was just a good place to escape from everything for awhile, shoot .22s at snakes, turtles, fish, and anything else that happened to float by. Occasionally, you might be "fortunate" enough to experience the tremendous vibration, heat, and noise of the train as it lumbered across the trestle directly over your head.

I recall these things only because they are the stories that were related to me by those rowdy kids of my neighborhood.......I swear it wasn't me who did it.....But, then again, my memory fails me at times, and it's quite often that I simply have to say, "what do I know".

A spectacular start to a spectacular day!

It's nearing the end of February and I cannot believe how mild this winter has been. Seriously, we've only had one measurable snow, and it barely covered the ground. The ponds have remained unfrozen for the livestock, and for me too, as I've been spared the chore of chopping holes in the ice. Yes, I know it's much too early to gloat.....after all, we've had some significant snowstorms in March, but the nice thing about those spring storms is that they are short lived.

About a week ago we had our first calf of the spring, the first of seventeen. He was born on Valentine's Day and was aptly named Valentino. Since then we've had three more here at the ranch, and four others that were delivered "down the road" where a friend of mine monitors the deliveries of my first-calf heifers.

It's my favorite part of ranching....and even though it can sometimes be trying, there's nothing quite like walking up to a newly born calf and watching it struggle to its feet as it tries to figure out the intricacies of "life on the outside".  It's a rude awakening I'm sure, but made much more tolerable when the weather is mild.

Yesterday I was up early. The sky was clear and the sun was inching its way over the hills to the east of the house. There had been a light frost overnight, and the sun was creating thousands of diamonds across the pasture as the sunlight reflected off the grass. It was going to be a spectacular day!

As usual I started the coffee, then stepped to the windows to enjoy the view. The cows were meandering across the pasture, headed to the feed troughs where I would soon reward them for their cooperation. As I stood in the living room I caught a glimpse of smoke. No, it wasn't smoke, it was steam rising out of the tall grass on the side of the hill about 200 yards from the house. Time to go check it out.

I would usually jump in the Ranger, but it wasn't far so I walked. The sun was warm and we were headed to another day pushing sixty degrees.....in February!

I hadn't walked a hundred yards when the mama cow stood up from where the steam was still marking the spot. They're a little nervous right after giving birth, and I always approach slowly, talking quietly as I go, trying my best not to spook them.

I never tire of the sight. New life is a gratifying thing, and being able to witness it on a regular basis is God's gift to me. This one was a little bull calf, black with a partially white face.....almost identical to his mother, and she was very proud. I stood back as she licked him dry and nudged him until he stood on his wobbly legs and began the search for nourishment.

Just another day at the ranch......but, one with a spectacular start wouldn't you say? I think so, but as always, what do I know?

Life in the slow lane.....

As a young man, fresh out of college and working my very first job in corporate America, my dreams were big, but the salary was lagging behind the dreams. As is the case with most entry level jobs, the wages were low, the hours were long, and most of the assignments were monotonous.

In addition to the tedium of the job, I was faced with the first rush-hour commute of my life. For some reason, every major corporation felt the need to have their corporate offices within the confines of "downtown". Therefore, at approximately the same hour every morning, thousands of people driving thousands of cars, converged onto the two major arteries wending their way to town.

Not only was the commute time consuming, it was also quite expensive for a fledgling corporate drone. Fortunately for me there were many others sharing the same dilemma, and it was not unusual to see the bulletin board filled with notes....."ride needed"...."carpool opportunity"...."pay to ride". All one needed to do was find the right address, make a phone call, and voila.....instant carpool.

Soon after I made that fateful phone call, Jim, Charlie, and I were sharing the driving duties from the southeast suburbs into downtown. The expressway of choice was the most direct route into downtown, but it seemed to be constantly undergoing some type of construction, narrowing from four lanes to three lanes, then to two lanes as it dumped thousands of cars onto the one-way streets leading to acres of asphalt parking lots.

We were seated three abreast in Jim's old Ford pickup. The fan for the A/C was working great, but the air was blowing hot, just like outside.....Ugh, summer in Oklahoma.  We were nearing downtown and gradually making our way over to the right lanes as directed by the signs and orange barrels.....slowing to a crawl....sweating and thinking about another day at the office. Suddenly a very old, very large, very dirty car swerved to avoid the barrels and cut us off short!  Tires shrieked on the hot asphalt, and expletives filled the air, adding to the already overheated cab of our ride.

Jim Saporito was Italian, and Italians are sometimes known to have short, volatile tempers......I glanced over at Jim and watched his neck and face begin to redden. His lips were thin and drawn tight. Then, the driver of the very old, very large, very dirty car raised his hand to give a little wave of thanks for allowing him to cut in.

Wrong move.

Jim's equally old, large, dirty pickup suddenly lurched forward and "gently bumped" the car being driven by that ever so polite man who had waved at us. Dirt that had been caked underneath that old car for years raised little puffs of dust as it hit the roadway. Meanwhile, a smile slowly crept across Jim's face as he said, "I was okay with the SOB until he had the nerve to give us that little wave."

The next time you're tempted to race up to the front of the line and cut someone off in order to save yourself a couple of minutes, you might want to remember the story of Jim and his old pickup....It might just happen again, but what do I know.

Just another old fish story...

This mild weather has turned my thoughts to some fair-weather fishing. I've heard there are anglers that absolutely live to fish, and a little foul weather never acts as a deterrent to them as they grab their gear and head to the nearest lake, pond, or river to pursue their passion......And, while I really enjoy fishing, I guess you would identify me as an angler "lacking true passion".

If it's too cold, I don't fish; if it's raining cats and dogs, I don't fish; if it's too hot, I don't fish. Sorry, that's just the way I pursue this popular pastime.....thus the term fair-weather fishing.

Lazily floating down a secluded stream, fishing pole in hand, enjoying the sights and sounds of nature as the sun warms my shoulders.....that's my idea of the ideal fishing trip. If I catch fish, that's just a bonus.....okay, maybe not so much a bonus as a distraction. Kind of like golf.....a great walk in the country interrupted by having to chase a little white ball.

Last spring the river was at flood stage when we took our annual fishing trip. The result was a roaring trip down the river with each of us more intent on survival than fishing. Aah, but the year before was perfect, and I look forward to this year being the same.

The morning had been about as perfect as you would ever want. Steve and I had been floating, fishing, and enjoying the spectacular views along the river. A few hundred yards behind us, two of our fishing partners were drifting along in their canoe.....they were actually catching fish, but otherwise following the same course as the two of us. They were the elder members of our group, men with more experience on the river than Steve and I combined, and listening to their stories of a lifetime of pursuing their passion was a delight to all of us.

As we steered the boats over to a shady sand bar for our lunch break, we looked forward to hearing their stories as much as the ham sandwiches packed in the coolers. A few minutes later their canoe scraped to a stop on the sand bar and we pulled it to shore.

"You boys ready for lunch?  So are we, so lets get to it."

Of course they made a big show of pulling their stringer of fish up so we could admire their catch,,,,,showoffs.

It's surprising how hungry you get after a morning of floating and fishing so everyone got busy pulling sandwiches, chips, and sodas from the coolers. Then, Steve stood up, walked over to these two grizzled old fishermen, and said, "I've got some hand sanitizer here, you want some?"

I glanced up just in time to see the priceless look on their faces.....I'd wager a very large sum of money that it was the first time either of them had ever been offered hand-sanitizer while fishing, and they were speechless.

I'll never forget that moment in time.....and I'm pretty sure it's etched in their memories as well. My guess is that it will be another fish story those two will enjoy telling for a long time.....I hope so, but what do I know.