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| What do ya say we go raid the cookie jar? |
words of wisdom, words of fear, words of love, words of huh? i don't know. whatever i feel like writing about. definitely about dogs and specifically at times about my big 'ole silly airedale bentley and his siblings, food and travel. we love to cook. and eat. and really love cheeseburgers. we also like to explore.
30 December 2010
23 December 2010
Thoughts on the past....
Hi ya'll. I know it's been awhile and I've missed reading everybody's posts over the last few month's but I've peeked a few times when time has allowed. I promise we'll get back to posting more often. Everything is good here in Houston. Warm as usual and all the 4-legged's are doing well. Kris and I are doing great too. Lot's of family here for the holidays and it is business as usual! I wanted to share this FB post of mine from this morning~ It has been in my head for over a year now and I felt it was time to write it down.
Hugs from Houston-town,
Karen Raye and Bentley Beargrass
and Roux, Bridgette, Jax, and Walter Woo too!
I found this poem many years ago when I was on the hunt for information on anything Airedale related. My big old lug of an Airedale named Luke had moved on to the glorious fields of heaven and had left me heartbroken. My sorrow was affecting Bentley and both of us were depressed. I felt that he needed a companion but it was mostly my own pain and emptiness I was feeling when I reflect back on it now. Long story short, life intervened in ways that brought me great joy and peace but in my research I found an old website that wasn't current but had the funniest stories about a man and his dog named Mr. Woofer the Airedale from Hell. Unfortunately he wasn't writing the stories anymore that I was aware of but I enjoyed them nonetheless. The escapades of Mr. Woofer sparked my imagination and strengthened my love for the Airedale breed. Somehow I stumbled across more of this authors work while searching for more of his penmanship and found what I think is his cowboy poetry. Maybe it isn't but that doesn't matter because if not for him I'd never have found this poem. In my imagination it made sense that he had written this poem because in my mind he had become a wise and interesting man that had become disillusioned with the human condition over a lifetime. I don't know. Maybe I am completely wrong but it doesn't matter except for the fact that his writings and poems gave laughter back to my soul. I was able to remember without too much pain the wonderful times Sir Luke the Airedale had shared with me. I was able to pick up the broken pieces of my heart (many causes) and slowly put them back together. Bentley and I healed albeit slowly and completely.
Skip to a year or two later- my Dad and I weren't on the greatest of terms due to poor decision making and stubbornness of the human kind. I guess you could say both of us might have been guilty, it really doesn't matter now. I'd always remembered the poem by the Airedale man and thought that it described my Dad. I wish to share it with you today. I sent it to my Dad awhile back with a long letter about life. We are good now. It has taken some work but it has been worth it. Nothing is ever perfect or easy or the same as it used to be but that is OK with me. I find that we evolve and change throughout our relationships with loved ones. All that really matters is that you are able to do this.
Thanks Charley Sierra (aka Chuck Shaddoway) for helping me with my Dad. May you rest in peace Cowboy Poet and Mr. Woofer's Dad.
And Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Joy to the World, Peace on Earth, etc., etc., etc. Call it what you may, just remember to love. and forgive. and heal yourself of the hurts that life doles out. and be kind. It is important.
A Christmas Poem
Christmas is a-comin' soon!
Pardner, ain't ya seen?
The decorations showed up
In the stores on Halloween!
The papers just plumb fulla ads;
Some days it's three feet thick!
That's good-we got a woodstove,
'N' we're short on kindlin' sticks.
The kids all hope that Santa
Brings 'em ever'thing they chose;
"I want a Nintendo!"
"Please don't bring me any clothes!"
The Sally Army's out in force,
A-tunin' up their band;
I always drop a dollar,
'Cause they once gave me a hand.
There's some who say we've lost the track,
'N' don't know rhyme or reason,
That all this hooraw overlooks
The spirit of the season.
They point 'n' say I don't believe,
'Cause in church ya'll never find me;
But I don't need no hymns, or prayers,
Or crosses to remind me.
This year, I think I'll try
What one ole cowpoke used to do;
I'll saddle up, 'n' leave a note:
"Back in an hour, or two."
I'll ride west outta Reno,
A-followin' the river,
'Way up into the mountains
Where the air's so cold it shimmers.
Far away from stores 'n' crowds,
Where the only single sound
Will be my pony's muffled steps
Through the snow upon the ground.
'N' when I reach the perfect spot
(I'll know it when I'm there),
I'll doff my hat, 'n' feel
The icy wind blow through my hair.
I'll find the brightest star that night,
Gaze up at it, 'n' say,
"Happy Birthday, Boss,"
'N' then I'll softly ride away.
Written by Charley Sierra
Hugs from Houston-town,
Karen Raye and Bentley Beargrass
and Roux, Bridgette, Jax, and Walter Woo too!
I found this poem many years ago when I was on the hunt for information on anything Airedale related. My big old lug of an Airedale named Luke had moved on to the glorious fields of heaven and had left me heartbroken. My sorrow was affecting Bentley and both of us were depressed. I felt that he needed a companion but it was mostly my own pain and emptiness I was feeling when I reflect back on it now. Long story short, life intervened in ways that brought me great joy and peace but in my research I found an old website that wasn't current but had the funniest stories about a man and his dog named Mr. Woofer the Airedale from Hell. Unfortunately he wasn't writing the stories anymore that I was aware of but I enjoyed them nonetheless. The escapades of Mr. Woofer sparked my imagination and strengthened my love for the Airedale breed. Somehow I stumbled across more of this authors work while searching for more of his penmanship and found what I think is his cowboy poetry. Maybe it isn't but that doesn't matter because if not for him I'd never have found this poem. In my imagination it made sense that he had written this poem because in my mind he had become a wise and interesting man that had become disillusioned with the human condition over a lifetime. I don't know. Maybe I am completely wrong but it doesn't matter except for the fact that his writings and poems gave laughter back to my soul. I was able to remember without too much pain the wonderful times Sir Luke the Airedale had shared with me. I was able to pick up the broken pieces of my heart (many causes) and slowly put them back together. Bentley and I healed albeit slowly and completely.
Skip to a year or two later- my Dad and I weren't on the greatest of terms due to poor decision making and stubbornness of the human kind. I guess you could say both of us might have been guilty, it really doesn't matter now. I'd always remembered the poem by the Airedale man and thought that it described my Dad. I wish to share it with you today. I sent it to my Dad awhile back with a long letter about life. We are good now. It has taken some work but it has been worth it. Nothing is ever perfect or easy or the same as it used to be but that is OK with me. I find that we evolve and change throughout our relationships with loved ones. All that really matters is that you are able to do this.
Thanks Charley Sierra (aka Chuck Shaddoway) for helping me with my Dad. May you rest in peace Cowboy Poet and Mr. Woofer's Dad.
And Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Joy to the World, Peace on Earth, etc., etc., etc. Call it what you may, just remember to love. and forgive. and heal yourself of the hurts that life doles out. and be kind. It is important.
A Christmas Poem
Christmas is a-comin' soon!
Pardner, ain't ya seen?
The decorations showed up
In the stores on Halloween!
The papers just plumb fulla ads;
Some days it's three feet thick!
That's good-we got a woodstove,
'N' we're short on kindlin' sticks.
The kids all hope that Santa
Brings 'em ever'thing they chose;
"I want a Nintendo!"
"Please don't bring me any clothes!"
The Sally Army's out in force,
A-tunin' up their band;
I always drop a dollar,
'Cause they once gave me a hand.
There's some who say we've lost the track,
'N' don't know rhyme or reason,
That all this hooraw overlooks
The spirit of the season.
They point 'n' say I don't believe,
'Cause in church ya'll never find me;
But I don't need no hymns, or prayers,
Or crosses to remind me.
This year, I think I'll try
What one ole cowpoke used to do;
I'll saddle up, 'n' leave a note:
"Back in an hour, or two."
I'll ride west outta Reno,
A-followin' the river,
'Way up into the mountains
Where the air's so cold it shimmers.
Far away from stores 'n' crowds,
Where the only single sound
Will be my pony's muffled steps
Through the snow upon the ground.
'N' when I reach the perfect spot
(I'll know it when I'm there),
I'll doff my hat, 'n' feel
The icy wind blow through my hair.
I'll find the brightest star that night,
Gaze up at it, 'n' say,
"Happy Birthday, Boss,"
'N' then I'll softly ride away.
Written by Charley Sierra
08 December 2010
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