Just reminiscing about some childhood things. Now you can tell from this picture one of several options.
Perhaps we were always preparing for a flood. You can never plan too much in advance. Or perhaps I had a big growth spurt in height. And one thing for certain we were somewhat poor growing up—and Dad and Mom never bought $100 jeans that’s for sure no matter what fancy stitch they had on them.
I remember going to the cattle sale with my dad a lot as a kid. One time we had gone to the lake and Dad said, “I’m going to run into Woodward to the sale.” I said, “Good, I’m going with you.” And my dad said, “Not if you didn’t bring a pair of jeans. If you didn’t bring a pair of jeans, you are not wearing shorts to the sale.”
At the sale if they ever brought in a Brahman calf I would beg Dad to buy it. And probably the more Brahman the better that is for me. I would say, “Please, Dad, please, please, please buy him.”
And sometimes I would hound him enough he would give in and say, “OK, bid on him.” One time as a kid, Mom went to Beaver and she dropped me off at the time of the sale. I was going to buy some weaning pigs. Dad told me, “Go over to the gate where they let them in and Mr. Guffy will help you.” Dad knew he would look out for me.
On Sunday we would go to Sunday school and then church. Mom would often put a roast with potatoes and carrots in the oven and by the time church was out it was ready to eat. Mom was a good cook. Oh, which my siblings are proud of.
My brother always liked to tell the story how he had to wear hand-me-down jeans from his older sister that zipped up the side. Mom would say, “I don’t think you ever had to do that.” But he would always insist he did at least once. And come to think about it sometimes at the sale, sorting cattle it is hard to tell a heifer from a steer.
Oh, well, I’m sure that I liked that joke better than my brother will. You have to tease people enough or if you don’t they will think you are mad at them. I always said, “Dad and Mom had four kids or calves. The first one was a plain ole longhorn looking heifer. Then came an ole pot-bellied polled Hereford bull and then, of course, the next one was a Guernsey cross heifer and then I came along a grand champion show bull.
Of course, one day at the sale, a calf came in very muscly and stout built. I said, “He reminds me of myself.” One of the buyers hollered out, “You mean because he is a steer.”
Editor’s note: Jerry Nine, Woodward, Oklahoma, is a lifetime cattleman who grew up on his family’s ranch near Slapout, Oklahoma.
