

Monday, March 21, 2011

On a sweeping prairie, a young cowboy named McGee sits on his horse. 
He reaches into the saddlebag and pulls out a piece of paper. He unfolds the paper, removes his hat, and begins to read aloud. McGee is practicing.

"Dear Pa:
This letter was darn hard to write, but it's time to git right down to it. Pa, I'm done with cowboy'n. I'm set to move to the city. I have a dream. I am going to be a salesman of the great automobile.

I've seen them on television with their neckties and combed hair, talking fast. And those cars behind them shinin' like sunlight off a lake. Sometimes there's a lady or two with the salesman, smiling and pointing, and I reckon by their smiles, they're all good folks.

I'm tired of people out here taking their time and talkin' slow. I've got no friend but the cattle and the horses. I'm lousy on the harmonica, and my saddle chafes me something fierce. I can't stomach wieners and beans, and I'm spooked by my own gun.

Now I know your Pappy was a cowboy. And his father before him was a cowboy. But a man can let a lot of years pass wearin' somebody else's boots. And that won't be me. It's time for me to make my way in this world, to drive an automobile with one of them pretty ladies by my side. You say horses, Pa, but I say horsepower.

So I'm going to follow my dream. And I just pray to the good Lord you'll forgive me. 
Love: Your Son.

McGee is finished his letter. He returns it to his saddlebag and places his hat back onto his head. Then he wipes his face with a handkerchief and picks up the reigns. "Come on, Red," he says to his horse, "it's now or never." 

For a little cowboy mood-music, click here.

1 comment:

  1. Ha! You're making the right move, cowboy. No future on the range.
    Coincidentally, i recently localized and rewrote Ghost Riders in the Sky as No Mine in Clayoquot Sound.