By Christopher R. Gibbs

He was proud of his investment and impatient to share it with Grandpa. He had taken money from his savings, partnered with his mom, and committed to the purchase of that brand new saddle that fit his six-year-old frame to a tee.

As his mom tightened the cinch, weaved the latigo, and handed him the reins – reminding him to keep them fore, not aft of the horn, he sat tall in the saddle. Confident for his age, yet wisely tentative as he maneuvered his three times his age mare through the makeshift barrel course of two yellow five-gallon buckets.

It was that moment I knew both my grandsons would grow up to be cowboys.

Later in the evening, as I soaked in that reality, juxtaposed with the cable news of the day, void of corn and cows, yet filled with despair, I lament

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