We watch the Cowboy Channel quite a bit. It’s about the only one where you don’t get bombarded with bad news, political hype, unsolicited opinions, or violence and vulgarity.
Last week we saw our grandson ride at the National Western Stock Show in Denver. It’s been thirty odd years since I attended that event in person, and the venue has changed considerably. I remember wandering through the pens and admiring prize winning livestock. Vendors were eager to visit with us as we admired their handiwork, even though we couldn’t afford most of it. We attended one rodeo performance and happened to sit with the stock contractor, with whom we were slightly acquainted. He was just in the audience, not treated as a celebrity with special introductions. Believe it or not, there was no loud music, light show, or big screen TV. The riders and stock were top notch, but my most vivid memory of that day was seeing the Budweiser Clydesdales.
I stopped going to concerts when they put up the big screens. Why not just stay home and watch from your living room? Oh, I get it. You’d miss the smoke and lights and smashing perfectly good guitars. Someone told me they went to a George Strait concert and were disappointed because all he did was stand up there and sing. DUH! The man is a singer, and a darn good one. What else do you need?
I wonder what these extras say about how we view people who share their talent. Rodeo is a tough sport. Cowboy athletes work to stay in shape. Stock contractors are careful to maintain the health and well-being of the horses and cattle. Everyone is doing their best, all the time. When performances are muddied up with loud music and bright lights it detracts and, in my mind, is disrespectful to the people who worked to prepare a good show. The same is true of musical venues. If performers bring you their best, is that somehow not good enough? As much is said about the half time performance at the Super Bowl as about the quarterback.
Americans seem to supersize everything from their fountain drinks to entertainment. We’re addicted to our phones, with ever increasing apps to draw our attention away from reality. We’re addicted to adrenaline, competition, social media, and selfies: to sugar, caffeine, and whatever other mind-altering substances are handy. These problems get some attention from the press and entities dedicated to helping individuals whose lives have been devastated by the constant demand for more and bigger, but there’s little effort to look beyond the symptoms. It’s the little things, folks. The changes we take for granted, saying, “this is just the world we live in.”
Of all the concerts I’ve attended, the one I enjoyed most was seeing Roy Clark perform in a high school gym. No frills. He just stood up there and sang, and connected with everyone in that audience.
I think I’ll just keep on going to local rodeos where pre-performance consists of a prayer, the national anthem, and grand entry. I’ll watch the contestants help one another get ready for their rides and congratulate whoever won. That may well still go on at the big performances but you don’t see it up close. Organizers are doing their best to draw attention away from the good stuff.
Meet me here next week and meanwhile, do your best. Somebody might like it.