I Only Know a Few Cowboys

            One of the most poignant songs I remember from my childhood was “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” by Paula Cole. It was insanely popular when I was in high school, especially with girls. It had a cool sound and her voice was very nice and synthesizer free. It also mentioned John Wayne and tractors, so guys could get behind it too. As with any song, once it falls off the charts it fades from the radio just that fast. Paula Cole made a few more songs after that and disappeared. I saw her on a “Where Are They Now?” episode on VH1 last year. She just decided the fast life wasn’t for her and became a homemaker. Good for you, Paula.

            If you look at the lyrics of the song, it sends several messages. It depends on the person listening as to what message they derive. For some women, it asks “Is chivalry dead?”  Well, ladies, it’s hanging on by a thread. We are at an all time high in rudeness at the present, so get back to me in a few years. Others take a more cynical approach, thinking it mocks the general American ideal of the “man of the house.” I could see that as well. For me, I think Paula is asking what happened to the cowboy side of the American male. She notices that all we do is work, come home and sit on the couch with little to no interest in anything other than food and TV. Is she wrong? Judging by the astounding recent numbers in obesity and heart disease, I think not. Are we too concerned with our work futures to pay attention to ourselves and others? Are we afraid to take risks because we think we have too much to lose?

            The emasculation of the American male is to blame for many of the problems we face in our country today. The generations of men before us had principles. They took a stand when it was time. They saved the world from tyranny in WWII. They worked hard, played hard, and always took care of their families. Cowboys. Real men. The cowboys in this country have been mentally beaten into a pulp by a politically correct society. Other men use excuses like a rough childhood, ADD, the Coreolis Effect, the infield fly rule or whatever excuse is convenient at that point in time to explain their indifference and laziness. Since the 1960’s, the leadership in this country has given away too many hall passes and free lunches. Men don’t have to be men anymore. The blame goes to the man for allowing himself to become useless and the mindset of this generation that accepts this behavior.

           

                 Think about this: You go into a bar with your wife in Georgia. After having a couple of drinks (which is legal, by the way) and minding your own business, another patron comes up to your wife and says an inappropriate comment. Taking offense, you inform him that she is your wife and that will not be tolerated. He rebuffs in his drunken state and challenges you. In your anger, you throw a punch and knock the man unconscious, breaking his orbital lobe and blacking his eye. The bar owner calls the police. When the police arrive, they investigate the scene and see a man with a noticeable injury laying on the floor. Once they derive that you caused this injury, you are arrested and charged with aggravated assault, a felony. The drunken fool conveniently does not remember anything. Even if you beat the charge, you still have 1) an arrest on your record; 2) if you hire a lawyer, he is going to bill you by the hour; 3) time away from work dealing with the arraignment, motion hearings, trial, etc. You could also plead guilty to a lesser charge, where you will be forced to be on probation, pay fines, attend anger management and probably some community service. All for defending your turf. If you don’t want to pay out the nose, then sit back and let another man make inappropriate comments to your wife and do nothing. Tell him he should have more class. Tell him how rude he is. That works about as well as “time out” does for five-year olds. I’m sorry, some people just need to get hit and a man should not be lambasted legally or financially for standing his ground.

            I’m not saying that anarchy should replace what we have. I’m not saying men should have different rules than women. The man’s role in this world continues to be distorted by the law, by the number of divorces and child custody issues, and the unbelievably sensitive society we are becoming. Public schools cannot discipline children for fear of being sued, essentially allowing 10 year olds to do whatever they please. Medicate them and send them to the next grade with a pat on the back. Georgia recently voted to get rid of the High School Graduation Tests, in my opinion, because of the high failure rates. That is wonderful strategy….when things get rough, just bail out. This teaches a young man absolutely nothing but apathy and disrespect.  

I’m also hearing about sports leagues around the country that don’t keep score because they don’t want the boys to be upset if they lose. Seriously? Great life lesson, folks. Everybody wins, everybody gets a trophy. Loss is 50% of REAL life. You are teaching them entitlement and turning them into brats. These brats grow up and have no intestinal fortitude when the real world body checks them into the glass. Life is about taking risks, falling down and getting back up. Sometimes, there’s nobody there to help you get up. Those are the times when a man is made, when you stand up on your own and tell the world to bring it on.

I wrote this because I was looking at a picture I found of my granddad the other day. It was 1942 and he was in his Army uniform, about to be shipped out to North Africa to fight the Nazis. He was 24 years old with a new son he had never met because he left for training before my uncle was born. He left his childhood home in south Georgia at age 15 because my great grandfather drank whiskey like it was water and beat him and his siblings daily, prompting my great grandmother to tell him to leave before “your daddy kills you.” He hitchhiked to Atlanta and joined a CCC camp, where he remained until the war started. He was a staff sergeant in the 20^th Combat Engineers Battalion that chased Erwin Rommel across the North African desert. He was in the first wave of troops to hit Omaha Beach, where he laid for three days, using the bodies of dead Americans to protect him from the gunfire. He froze at the Battle of the Bulge. He fought the mud and the bullets in Sicily. He celebrated in Germany when the war ended. He came home and worked in a mill for the rest of his life. He never made much money, but he took care of my mom, my grandmother and my uncles. He paid their house off. He put my mom through college with no loans because he refused to owe anyone that much money. He never bitched and complained about his father or all the blood and death he witnessed overseas. He didn’t take drugs. He didn’t ask for anything from anyone, took shit from nobody, and would stand up for himself at the drop of a hat. A man with every excuse to be apathetic and useless, but I guess he didn’t see it that way. He died plowing a field on a hot August day in 1985. That’s the cowboy Paula was looking for.

I only hope to be half the man he was.