leanin' H
Well-known member
Folks, tonight I just have share something with you all. We are members of the Utah Cattlemen's Association and we get a newsletter each month. The man who wrote this article has been a speaker at several functions we have attended over the years. I thought most of you all would appreciate his words.
The Right Kind of Tough
By Jim Keyes
One thing about cattle people...we are a tough bunch. Everyday we face trials and tribulations that we deal with and just keep going. Mother Nature is never very kind to us, the government is always trying to do something to make our lives difficult, and physical danger confronts us at every turn.
Our vet was telling me about fertility testing bulls this spring on a ranch where they had an old squeeze chute with a roll-up tailgate instead of one that closed from side to side. As he was kneeling to measure scrotal circumference on a bull, the tailgate came slamming down and hit him right across the middle of his back. An accident like this would seriously injure a normal person. Someone in the cow business just sits for a minute to catch their breath and moves on to the next bull. Think of how many times something like this has happened to you.
For years I have watched great men like Jim Ekker, Joe Fuhriman and Dave Eliason trudge on while their companions suffered from health challenges. I watched these men do business while they compassionately served their spouses.
In 2011 both Butch and Jeanie Jensen and Don and Beth Anderson tragically lost sons. Thinking about my own 4 sons, I wondered how anyone would survive this type of heartbreak. I watched as these two families seemed to pull together and just keep moving onward. My heart went out to them, but at the same time I admired their toughness forged by thousands of hours of heat, cold, hunger, thirst, pain, injuries and all the ordeals the ranching industry has to offer.
I always thought I was tough, but I recently found out that maybe I am not as resilient as I supposed. On Saturday morning, April 11, I was at the house dreading the thought that I had to spend the day shoeing horses. The front door opened and my son Matt, and a local police officer walked in. I could see they were both visibly upset, and my heart sank. I have often worried about getting a horse or cow on the highway and a young family in a minivan running into them.
My son told me to sit down, which I immediately did. Trying very hard not to cry, he said, "Dad, Randon was killed in a car accident this morning." For what seemed like an eternity I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think. I finally got myself under control and was able to ask the officer about some of the details.
The hardest thing I have ever done, and hopefully ever will do, was telling my son's mother. She had to run to the store for a minute and when she came back I sat her down and told her. At that moment our whole world fell apart and we were both lost in grief. For a couple of days it was like we were moving in a fog. Fortunately, my son Matt just took over and started taking care of the details.
At a time of need, there is nothing like a small town. We had visitors at our home solid from Saturday through Tuesday night, and we had more food than you can imagine. Don and Beth Anderson, to whom I will be forever grateful, assured us that we will survive and though you never forget, life does get back to some sense of normal.
The day after the funeral was an amazing day. For months we had been preparing to build a new set of corrals. We had the gates, posts and other materials just stacked up waiting. That day, my sons, as well as folks from the community, worked from daylight until dark building pens. There couldn't have been a better therapy for me and my family.
Right now my heart still hurts. I go about life like everything is ok, but it's not. I do know that my son, Randon, is in a far better place and he preforming a duty that has eternal implications. This knowledge does bring my wife and me great comfort.
As cattle people we face trials everyday that people in other facets of society cannot imagine. Most people cuss the weather only because it makes it tough to get to work. Or, the most dangerous thing they face all day is slipping on the stairs. They don't deal with irate animals, heavy machinery or all of the obstructions of nature.
I want you to know what a noble breed of people you are. You take in stride the everyday risks of being a rancher. And when the troubles come that are truly tragic, you take those in step the same way. You do this because you've been tried and tested, and know you can deal with what happens.
The best part of the whole thing is when something dreadful happens, we all band together to help one another. I cannot express the appreciation for all the kindness my family has received from cattle people all over the state. And, for those of you who take the time to call me when you read something in my column that you like, I just want to say thank you.
The Right Kind of Tough
By Jim Keyes
One thing about cattle people...we are a tough bunch. Everyday we face trials and tribulations that we deal with and just keep going. Mother Nature is never very kind to us, the government is always trying to do something to make our lives difficult, and physical danger confronts us at every turn.
Our vet was telling me about fertility testing bulls this spring on a ranch where they had an old squeeze chute with a roll-up tailgate instead of one that closed from side to side. As he was kneeling to measure scrotal circumference on a bull, the tailgate came slamming down and hit him right across the middle of his back. An accident like this would seriously injure a normal person. Someone in the cow business just sits for a minute to catch their breath and moves on to the next bull. Think of how many times something like this has happened to you.
For years I have watched great men like Jim Ekker, Joe Fuhriman and Dave Eliason trudge on while their companions suffered from health challenges. I watched these men do business while they compassionately served their spouses.
In 2011 both Butch and Jeanie Jensen and Don and Beth Anderson tragically lost sons. Thinking about my own 4 sons, I wondered how anyone would survive this type of heartbreak. I watched as these two families seemed to pull together and just keep moving onward. My heart went out to them, but at the same time I admired their toughness forged by thousands of hours of heat, cold, hunger, thirst, pain, injuries and all the ordeals the ranching industry has to offer.
I always thought I was tough, but I recently found out that maybe I am not as resilient as I supposed. On Saturday morning, April 11, I was at the house dreading the thought that I had to spend the day shoeing horses. The front door opened and my son Matt, and a local police officer walked in. I could see they were both visibly upset, and my heart sank. I have often worried about getting a horse or cow on the highway and a young family in a minivan running into them.
My son told me to sit down, which I immediately did. Trying very hard not to cry, he said, "Dad, Randon was killed in a car accident this morning." For what seemed like an eternity I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think. I finally got myself under control and was able to ask the officer about some of the details.
The hardest thing I have ever done, and hopefully ever will do, was telling my son's mother. She had to run to the store for a minute and when she came back I sat her down and told her. At that moment our whole world fell apart and we were both lost in grief. For a couple of days it was like we were moving in a fog. Fortunately, my son Matt just took over and started taking care of the details.
At a time of need, there is nothing like a small town. We had visitors at our home solid from Saturday through Tuesday night, and we had more food than you can imagine. Don and Beth Anderson, to whom I will be forever grateful, assured us that we will survive and though you never forget, life does get back to some sense of normal.
The day after the funeral was an amazing day. For months we had been preparing to build a new set of corrals. We had the gates, posts and other materials just stacked up waiting. That day, my sons, as well as folks from the community, worked from daylight until dark building pens. There couldn't have been a better therapy for me and my family.
Right now my heart still hurts. I go about life like everything is ok, but it's not. I do know that my son, Randon, is in a far better place and he preforming a duty that has eternal implications. This knowledge does bring my wife and me great comfort.
As cattle people we face trials everyday that people in other facets of society cannot imagine. Most people cuss the weather only because it makes it tough to get to work. Or, the most dangerous thing they face all day is slipping on the stairs. They don't deal with irate animals, heavy machinery or all of the obstructions of nature.
I want you to know what a noble breed of people you are. You take in stride the everyday risks of being a rancher. And when the troubles come that are truly tragic, you take those in step the same way. You do this because you've been tried and tested, and know you can deal with what happens.
The best part of the whole thing is when something dreadful happens, we all band together to help one another. I cannot express the appreciation for all the kindness my family has received from cattle people all over the state. And, for those of you who take the time to call me when you read something in my column that you like, I just want to say thank you.