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aving the opportunity to be raised and work on a 2,500 acre cattle ranch was a positive in every aspect. A child learned to drive at the age of 8; learned to ride a horse at the age of 5; learned where baby calves come from; and learned where meat comes from – and it’s not the grocery store. They learned agriculture; branding cattle, doctoring cattle and horses; rounding up cattle with horses – not four wheelers; sowing and harvesting soybeans and corn for silage; and learning how to properly care for equipment. When my son (Joseph), was about five years old, he was helping his dad work the cattle. His task was to help trap the cattle in the shoot so that the animal could be wormed and branded. He would help his dad pull the shoot lever to trap the animals head, so the animal couldn’t run away, thus, allowing the animal to be wormed and branded. After a period of time, Joseph got careless and stuck his head under the shoot lever. His dad came down on his head with the lever and left a gash in his head. Joseph took everything in stride and didn’t shed a tear, until he saw blood, while his head was being washed off, that is when he told his dad, “Call my mama.” I picked Joseph up and took him to the local doctor’s office. On the way to the office, Joseph asked me, “Mama, are you going to hold my hand?” I reassured Joseph that I would, indeed, hold his hand. After arriving at the clinic, we were ushered to the back, where we waited for the doctor. The doctor walked into the office with a nurse in tow and examined Joseph’s head. He told the nurse to gather supplies and come back to assist in holding Joseph down, for shots and stitches. The whole time I was cowering in the corner, completely forgetting about my promise. I couldn’t deal with, what I thought would be, my screaming child getting shots and stitches. After arriving back in the room with needles and other supplies, the nurse attempted to hold Joseph down. The doctor gave Joseph a shot in the head. Joseph never flinched. The doctor, with a surprised attitude asked Joseph, “Well, you’re not going to cry?” “Cowboys don’t cry,” replied Joseph. The doctor looked at the nurse and told her to leave the room, “You aren’t needed in here. Go where you are needed.” The nurse left the room. The doctor finished cleaning and dressing Joseph’s wound and we left the office. While walking out to the car Joseph stated, “Mama, you forgot to hold my hand.” Caught in a quandary and knowing that I had broken a promise to my small child, I came up with the best answer I could. “Son, I am so proud of you. You acted so grownup. I figured if a cowboy didn’t cry, he didn’t need his mama to hold his hand either.” By Carolyn Nelson H 12 SOUTHERN SENIOR MAGAZINE | Winter 2018 - 2019 COWBOYS DON’T CRY S