Thursday, September 15 - After school, Brooke and I drove over to meet Brinda at Safeway for the last time this year. Not only was it the last rodeo of the year, but it was my first time at Pendleton Round-Up. We packed our bags for the weekend, settled into our cushy retro seats, and headed off for Pendleton. Kathy and Mike Warner, devoted directors of our rodeo, kindly loaned us the use of their house in Athena. Round-Up week correlates to no vacancy in all hotels/motels/bed&breakfasts in Pendleton, so having a house twenty minutes away from the bustle was great. After we got settled in, we departed for the Happy Canyon Indian Pageant and Wild West Show. Depicting both the life of the Native Americans and the settlers, this show was a great way to understand the history of the West in an entertaining fashion. The AFS chapter brought exchange students from the region including five from Enterprise High School. We were lucky enough to catch up with them, and I think the excitement was mutual as many of the students took their pictures with Brooke and I (some of them thought we were the Pendleton girls). After the show, we went out to get a bite to eat before heading down to Main Street to see what all the hubbub was about. Although we didn't dance, we got a taste of the "Let 'Er Buck" experience while watching the mechanical bull. Pendleton whisky, girls that are a little tipsy, 'nuff said. The night was still going strong when we left, but it was time to curl hair and rest up before the big day ahead.
Friday, September 16 - After a shorter than preferred night of sleep, I woke up transformed my slumberous appearance into that of a Rodeo Queen. Makeup? Check. Hair? Check. Hairspray? Check. More hairspray? Check. Suede outfits? Check. More hairspray? Check.
When we made it to the trailer, we mounted and rode our horses over the bridge and into downtown Pendleton. The directors and the stage coach were patiently waiting. And of course we were in a hurry to wait. After at least an hour, the parade finally started - signified by the burst of a cannon. The parade was the longest, most attended one yet: winding throughout Pendleton in front of huge crowds yelling "Let 'Er Buck!" For those of us on horses, we didn't exactly want to "Let 'Er Buck" at that exact moment, but we appreciated the enthusiasm and applause. Chief Joseph Days is really popular amongst the Pendleton fans - making it easy to jaunt through our last parade with zeal and swagger.
After the parade, we moseyed through the huge crowds to the Convention Center where the Queen's Luncheon was held. Unfortunately, the Round-Up Court left right after their introductions to get ready, but the food was great and it was nice to attend a luncheon that spared us from hearing each court's introductions for the 292840384 time.
A rodeo means huge crowds, huge crowds mean tons of vendors, tons of vendors mean lots of shopping (or at least window shopping). Brooke laughed about the fact that she has bought something at every rodeo this year. I can't say the same, but I have bought a couple of things throughout the year. Nonetheless, it is still fun to look. Especially when you have nothing better to do while you are waiting for the rodeo to start. Being at Pendleton for my last rodeo of the year prompted me to buy a tee-shirt: "101 Years and Still Buck'n."
The rodeo was a blast. Round-Up epitomizes the wild west: a perfect balance of chaotic, loosely-structured entertainment through Indian races, open-field broncs and bulls, and Native American ceremonies. The Grand Entry is a Rodeo Queen's dream. The court jumped the fence into the grassy field, hopped the second fence, galloped towards the track before bolting two enormous laps as the crowd roared in excitement. Pendleton's rodeo court traditions have deep roots; Round-Up was the first rodeo to have a Rodeo Queen, starting a trend that lives on today.
When all is said and done, this year has been unforgettable. I am thrilled to pass the reign over to next year's court, but there is not one day I will regret my choice to try-out on that wonderful September day that started everything last year. The experiences and adventures are once in a lifetime, and I can definitely say from the bottom of my heart that I will miss my year as the Chief Joseph Days Queen.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Lewiston Round-up!
Another early morning removing my sponge rollers and doing my makeup led to another rodeo – Lewiston Round-up on September 10th. As we drove past Asotin, I was taken back to my memory of our first rodeo in April. We had come full circle. I can still remember the nervous excitement I felt on the morning of the Asotin Rodeo. Once again, I was representing in the same neck of the woods with a couple more rodeos under my belt, but touched with the undeniable nervous excitement nevertheless.
The parade spectators at Lewiston were some of the most interactive, cheerful people we have seen thus far. It is always more suitable to get a response to my “Good morning!” or “How’s it going?” greetings rather than blank stares and awkward silences. Children crowded the streets with their grins and bags of candy. Occasional groups and families cheered and hollered when they recognized our signature suede outfits and Chief Joseph Days breast-collars. It’s always nice to hear enthusiasm for your hometown rodeo.
For the past few years, our court only appeared at the parade. This year the directors and Brinda, our chaperone, decided to allow us an appearance in the Grand Entry. Although we had to wait another six or so hours until the rodeo, it meant another craved run-in. After the court luncheon, they explained the Grand Entry process. Apparently the courts were called in twice for run-ins: once at the beginning of the rodeo and once after the bareback riding. When it was finally rodeo time (7:29 because that’s evidently how they do everything at Lewiston), we lined up for the first Grand Entry. The arena was small, and it was the first time we were asked to run-in on the right lead (waving with our left hand). We’re always up for a challenge, and did quite well for a backwards run-in. Once we were called up for the second run-in, one of the girls took a fall in the corner. Before letting the rest of us in, they warned us to be careful and check up our horses. Well there gets to a certain point where your horse decides running fast is the only option – none of this slow nonsense. As Buddy charged into the corner, I did my best to check him up. He powered on, and I decided to trust his confidence. We are both veterans now. Bolting past the last stretch of grandstands for the last time this year – I have truly come full circle.
Walla Walla Frontier Days
With school starting, the days getting longer, and the rodeo season nearing an end, it was difficult to get back in the routine after almost a month since our rodeo. Brooke and I rallied early on third of September to hit the road for Walla Walla Frontier Days.
After finding our parents who were busily grooming our mounts – Andy and Buddy – we relaxed and waited for the parade to start. Walla Walla was packed with horses, floats, and people. Once the line progressed onto Main Street, I entered “parade mode:” waving and greeting nearly every spectator and answering the occasional question regarding how to pronounce my name. In hindsight, maybe they should have put another nameplate on my serape with “Silje” spelled phonetically. I’m going to venture to say this year will be the first and last year Chief Joseph Days will have someone named “Silje” on their court. It will make life easier for the announcer, that’s for sure.
After the court luncheon that follows the parade, we decided to hit the town. The rodeo didn’t start till 7:00, so we had around five hours to kill after the court luncheon. My Grandparents from Norway came with us to Walla Walla, so I was able to spend some time with them before the rodeo started.
When it was time to mount our horses and warm up, finality hit me. This was to be our last run-in of the year. As I loped along the track that encircles the rodeo arena, it was strange to think the next two rodeos would just be parades. But Walla Walla was the perfect place to do our last run-in: the track provided a straight-shot sprint past the roaring crowd. And what a surreal feeling it was. When Buddy lowered himself to the ground and flattened his ears into a dead run, it was all I could do to stop him from circling the entire track. What a great way to wrap up the year.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Chief Joseph Days!
Throughout the course of the year, each time I put on my makeup, rolled my pink sponge rollers, washed my white horse, made a public appearance, sped through a run-in, and smiled and waved to the crowd, I became familiar with my role as Chief Joseph Days Queen. These duties not only served as public relations across Oregon, but importantly prepared Brooke and I for the rodeo we call our own - Chief Joseph Days.
The beauty of this week, in my mind, is the climactic energy we felt from the get-go. It was almost surreal to finally be in our "home court." The spotlight was finally ours, bearing with it a vibrant aura, just like we witnessed from the host courts of each rodeo we attended hitherto. We could finally relax without the pressure of inviting people to our rodeo and constantly advertising. The huge crowd that whooped and hollered each night furthered the support I have felt from this county in my summer adventures. I like to think of this week and the weeks leading up to it as a plot line. Prior to, our anticipation and excitement exponentiated similar to a book's rising action; this week, our patience and work throughout the year proved totally worth it. We reached the climax!
Tuesday, July 26 - This morning was relatively laid back and casual. Our only responsibility for the day was the Bucking Horse Stampede and the Kick-Off Dinner. I woke up (bright-eyed and bushy tailed I'm sure), and caught Buddy. Today was the only day it was not crucial for him to be spotless, so I took advantage of this by ditching the soap and giving him a quick, but thorough rinse. 12:00 - Brooke and I mounted our horses and followed the Dodge Pick-Up Men and Growney Stock Contractors out to a holding pen at the base of Chief Joseph Mountain. Upon arrival, the men made their way to Steve Rogers (CJD President) and a slew of contractors and distinguished get 'er done guys to pop open a can of Coors and socialize before the Stampede. Among the group was John Growney, the rodeo stock contractor that has supplied our rodeo with top notch stock for years, including the bucking horses we run down Main Street. John has a certain swagger and confidence about him as he mingles. One might make the conclusion that he presumes everyone knows who he is and visa versa (most people know who he is, but Brooke and I were slightly confused when we said hi and he replied by saying that we have grown up so fast... must have mixed us up with some other girls). We played along and waited patiently until the crew received the A-OK to commence the stampede. The stampede periodically starts at 1:00... theoretically. I mention this because in past years, the horses managed to escape from their confinement, therefore starting the stampede significantly early, confusing tourists who show up at 1:00 to an empty street scattered with occasional piles of horse apples. So far so good with this year’s schedule. We finally got the OK to let them out. Sonny, a Pick-Up man who has attended Chief Joseph Days for as long as I can remember, told us to follow him in the rear of the herd and let the guys stay ahead and make sure the horses didn’t leak into anyone’s driveway (as the streets are not blocked off). Once the horse’s pushed towards Main Street, it was our job to try to string them out so they didn’t run as a short, wide pack. As a child, I remember standing on the edge of the street, dweedling around, impatient for the stampede to start. As soon as I heard the clip-clopping of around 30 hooves on the pavement, I made sure not to blink. These horses are on a mission, and their mission isn’t to give you an extensive look of themselves. However, I didn’t understand why we weren’t provided more than a three second glance of these animals. As I loped my way down Main Street, trying to wave at the blur of people while restraining Buddy’s built up excitement, it was crystal clear. In retrospect, this uncertainty and speed is what makes the Bucking Horse Stampede. Showcasing the life of a Bucking Horse - running untamable and free - constitutes a part of the dwindling tradition of rodeo.
6:00 - Social hour for the Kick-Off Dinner. I thought I would be familiar with most of the people attending, but I was mistaken. Contractors for entertainment and stock, traveling as far as Oklahoma, were welcomed and talked up by our rodeo committee. Before dinner, Brooke and I finally got to see the poster and program. After dinner was served, we helped out at the auction. We made it home not too late so we could rest up for the busy week to come.
Wednesday, July 27 - Woke up too early for my likings to practice with the Tuckerettes and go through the Grand Entry and run-ins with the announcer. Brooke and I both had the pleasure of riding in our curlers. It was nerve-wracking to think that tonight was our first rodeo... something we had waited for since we were little girls. But we had other things to keep our mind off our nerves in the meantime.
12:00 - Lunch with the local Rotary chapter. Some of the rodeo contractors decided to join us, as well as Miss Rodeo Oregon. The Rotarians were very curious about each of our experiences and impressions, so we were asked to talk for quite some time.
Directly after lunch, we made our way to the head of the lake to meet up with Dave and Darlene Turner and Kolton and Sandy Kolbaba. They were readying their team of Percheron mares to pull the stagecoach around the campgrounds. Our job was to invite people to the rodeo. Surprisingly enough, some of the campers hadn’t heard that the rodeo was in town, so we encouraged them to crawl out from under their rock and check it out.
5:30 - meet at the van and get dressed for the first night of rodeo! My stomach was turning and lurching with anticipation and excitement. I swung my leg over the saddle and tightened the chaps to my legs. Buddy’s excitement showed too as we pranced into the arena to warm up. It was pretty amazing to watch all of the faces stream into the crowd. Seeing the affectionate smiles of friends, family, and members of the community led to a overwhelming sense of support. When we were asked to leave the arena to start the rodeo, my butterflies were almost bursting through my stomach and into my throat. The visiting courts lined up behind us for the Grand Entry. When we were finally allowed in, Buddy burst into the arena (anticipating a run-in) but slowed to a lope as we weaved through the Tuckerettes and waved to the crowd as we were introduced. At the end of the serpentine, we exited through the roping gates and had to rush around the arena to the run-in gate. Buddy was exploding with energy - so ready to fly around the ring. As we surged into the arena, I entered tunnel vision. A unification of horse and human bound by trust beyond measure. A flood of adrenaline and the roar of the crowd. As I slowed into the final corner, a rush of awareness came over me. All the hard work had paid off - it was finally my time to shine. Ticket sales, makeup, hair, long nights memorizing my speech, countless hours in the saddle: all of it was worth the incredible experience before us.
Following a short autograph signing session outside the gate, we kicked our heels up at the Family Dance. I can remember when my family took me to this event many years ago. This year I danced with the little girls who were so appreciative of our company.
Thursday, July 28 - Darlene’s Brunch at 9:00. For the first time in Chief Joseph Days history (we think) the court was allowed to wear their hair straight. Whooo! No curlers for us! The brunch we attended was for the current court to get together with courts on their 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, etc. anniversaries. It was really special to hear about their experiences and memories. Every one of them expressed gratitude for the memories and skills gained in their year representing CJD. Nostalgia was in the air on that beautiful, cloudless morning as old friends were reunited over a delicious meal.
12:30 - Visit to Alpine Senior House. Said hello to the elderly people living in the senior house and talked with them about our experience as they ate breakfast and drank coffee. Not sure how clued in they were about what we were talking about, but they were all very appreciative.
After visiting the Alpine House, we walked into Joseph to hand out flyers for the CJD teen dance. This allowed us an opportunity to walk around the booths as well. After we finished shopping and marketing, we had lunch at the Outlaw Restaurant with Brinda, our chaperone.
5:30 - Tough Enough To Wear Pink Rodeo! A portion of the ticket sales as well as money from raffle and miscellaneous souvenirs went to the Wallowa Valley Health Care District for local cancer screenings. Over the past four years, CJD has donated more than $14,000 for this cause. The rodeo was another success, and it was back to the curlers for us that night.
Friday, July 29 - American Legion Breakfast at 8:00. This breakfast event was right before the Kiddie Parade, so we ate with our costumes on. Fairy costumes at that. We got lots of compliments, as well as odd looks. The Kiddie Parade was relaxed and fun, but the best part was seeing our dad’s dressed up as the Rednek Rodeeyo Court. Only a picture can describe this ridiculous sight (:
After the Kiddie Parade, we changed clothes to go to the Sports Corral to sign autographs. Signing autographs is a bittersweet thing for me... I know how much the kids appreciate it, but I have the hardest time understanding why my signature is so important. I can barely handle the local fame of being on the rodeo court, and I can’t even imagine being famous world-wide! I liked signing autographs after the rodeo much better because we were still beaming with the bliss of a great night on our horses. Over the course of the week, we signed boots, hats, posters, shirts, programs, and pictures.
Today, our family also celebrated my Grandfather’s birthday at Terminal Gravity. I moseyed over to my previous employment, happy to spend time with my family which I hadn’t seen much of with all the hustle and bustle of the week.
6:00 - Warm up for Friday Night Rodeo! This was definitely the best night in my mind. It surprised me, however, because the most emphasis is placed on Saturday night.
After the rodeo, we went to the teen dance until it ended at 12. It was so fun to wind down and have a great time with our friends. When I got home around 12:30, I took a shower, dried my hair, and woke my mom up around 1:15 to put my hair in curlers for the last time! Yayyyyy! Now that’s what you call family support.
Saturday, July 30 - Shrine breakfast at 8:00. Suede day all day! Which was... hot. Pancakes for the 7th time (haha). Following breakfast, we got ready for the Grand Parade. It was an overcast day, so we weren’t sweating buckets... yet. The parade was a blast, but my arm must have gotten out of shape from the last rodeo because I could hardly hold it up at the end. But the sore arm was so worth leading our own parade!
After the parade, we put our horses away and walked to the Joseph Community Center for the Queen’s Luncheon. Sara Freels, a former CJD Princess, and her mother had so generously decorated the room and prepared the food. As visiting courts trickled in, we welcomed them and gave them their gift (a bundle of CJD scrapbook materials made by Jeni Greenshields). Once everyone was seated, we introduced ourselves, our special guests, and thanked the sponsors and volunteers. After the meal, every court introduced themselves before getting together for a group picture. More courts than we had seen at any other rodeo attended our luncheon which goes to show what a great and fun rodeo Chief Joseph Days is.
After the luncheon, we made our way to the Indian Encampment. There were some delays after the Friendship Feast - pushing back the dancing, but we were set on staying. I had the pleasure of talking with a man who shared his experiences at Native American ceremonies. Eventually, we were welcomed with a dance directed in appreciation for Brooke and I. It was a really powerful and special experience, and I couldn’t help myself from letting out some tears of gratitude. It was probably partly lack of sleep, but I have always been intrigued by noble history and traditions of the Native American people, and being a part of this ceremony was overpowering.
6:00 - Last night of Chief Joseph Days. As well as the normal routine - Grand Entry (largest one yet!), run-ins, rounding up calves, setting out barrels - we handed out the awards for each event. Unfortunately, most of the winners weren’t present, as they had already left for another rodeo. But business is business, and this year has opened my eyes to the life of a cowboy, so I understood their absence. Tonight was the last night we rode our horses by the rail and said “Happy Trails” to the people leaving the bleachers. Buddy was awesome with the kids - he leaned up against the rails and let them stroke and caress him (sometimes not very gently). All too soon, we were called over to the autograph table for the last time.
We rallied for the last night of the teen dance. In the past, the courts wear their suedes and leave really early to catch up on sleep and avoid overheating. We agreed to leave early to avoid the same problem. To our delight, Brinda told us that we could bring our own clothes to change after around a half an hour. I was so excited and stayed till the very end, taking advantage of every second of this special week.
After the dance, Landra and some friends went to the lake and jumped in. As if it could get any better, we went to the Cowboy Breakfast at around 2 a.m., eating pancakes with wet hair and smiles.
Sunday, July 31 - 8:00 Cowboy Breakfast (again). Oooh, this morning came too soon. Haha! Luckily we were allowed to wear our hair in pony tails (no curlers at ungodly hours).
9:00 - Cowboy Church. A very interesting experience indeed. It was the first time I had attended this event, and I was fascinated by many aspects of the sermon. It was also a great opportunity to tear off my fake nails (: When it was over, Chief Joseph Days had officially come to an end.
A bittersweet thing indeed. The week went by in no time. While I would have liked it to last longer, I don’t know if my body could have handled another couple days of minimal sleep and the constant demand of the Rodeo Queen image. That being said, I wouldn’t have traded my time in our mountain shadowed arena for anything.
The beauty of this week, in my mind, is the climactic energy we felt from the get-go. It was almost surreal to finally be in our "home court." The spotlight was finally ours, bearing with it a vibrant aura, just like we witnessed from the host courts of each rodeo we attended hitherto. We could finally relax without the pressure of inviting people to our rodeo and constantly advertising. The huge crowd that whooped and hollered each night furthered the support I have felt from this county in my summer adventures. I like to think of this week and the weeks leading up to it as a plot line. Prior to, our anticipation and excitement exponentiated similar to a book's rising action; this week, our patience and work throughout the year proved totally worth it. We reached the climax!
Tuesday, July 26 - This morning was relatively laid back and casual. Our only responsibility for the day was the Bucking Horse Stampede and the Kick-Off Dinner. I woke up (bright-eyed and bushy tailed I'm sure), and caught Buddy. Today was the only day it was not crucial for him to be spotless, so I took advantage of this by ditching the soap and giving him a quick, but thorough rinse. 12:00 - Brooke and I mounted our horses and followed the Dodge Pick-Up Men and Growney Stock Contractors out to a holding pen at the base of Chief Joseph Mountain. Upon arrival, the men made their way to Steve Rogers (CJD President) and a slew of contractors and distinguished get 'er done guys to pop open a can of Coors and socialize before the Stampede. Among the group was John Growney, the rodeo stock contractor that has supplied our rodeo with top notch stock for years, including the bucking horses we run down Main Street. John has a certain swagger and confidence about him as he mingles. One might make the conclusion that he presumes everyone knows who he is and visa versa (most people know who he is, but Brooke and I were slightly confused when we said hi and he replied by saying that we have grown up so fast... must have mixed us up with some other girls). We played along and waited patiently until the crew received the A-OK to commence the stampede. The stampede periodically starts at 1:00... theoretically. I mention this because in past years, the horses managed to escape from their confinement, therefore starting the stampede significantly early, confusing tourists who show up at 1:00 to an empty street scattered with occasional piles of horse apples. So far so good with this year’s schedule. We finally got the OK to let them out. Sonny, a Pick-Up man who has attended Chief Joseph Days for as long as I can remember, told us to follow him in the rear of the herd and let the guys stay ahead and make sure the horses didn’t leak into anyone’s driveway (as the streets are not blocked off). Once the horse’s pushed towards Main Street, it was our job to try to string them out so they didn’t run as a short, wide pack. As a child, I remember standing on the edge of the street, dweedling around, impatient for the stampede to start. As soon as I heard the clip-clopping of around 30 hooves on the pavement, I made sure not to blink. These horses are on a mission, and their mission isn’t to give you an extensive look of themselves. However, I didn’t understand why we weren’t provided more than a three second glance of these animals. As I loped my way down Main Street, trying to wave at the blur of people while restraining Buddy’s built up excitement, it was crystal clear. In retrospect, this uncertainty and speed is what makes the Bucking Horse Stampede. Showcasing the life of a Bucking Horse - running untamable and free - constitutes a part of the dwindling tradition of rodeo.
6:00 - Social hour for the Kick-Off Dinner. I thought I would be familiar with most of the people attending, but I was mistaken. Contractors for entertainment and stock, traveling as far as Oklahoma, were welcomed and talked up by our rodeo committee. Before dinner, Brooke and I finally got to see the poster and program. After dinner was served, we helped out at the auction. We made it home not too late so we could rest up for the busy week to come.
Wednesday, July 27 - Woke up too early for my likings to practice with the Tuckerettes and go through the Grand Entry and run-ins with the announcer. Brooke and I both had the pleasure of riding in our curlers. It was nerve-wracking to think that tonight was our first rodeo... something we had waited for since we were little girls. But we had other things to keep our mind off our nerves in the meantime.
12:00 - Lunch with the local Rotary chapter. Some of the rodeo contractors decided to join us, as well as Miss Rodeo Oregon. The Rotarians were very curious about each of our experiences and impressions, so we were asked to talk for quite some time.
Directly after lunch, we made our way to the head of the lake to meet up with Dave and Darlene Turner and Kolton and Sandy Kolbaba. They were readying their team of Percheron mares to pull the stagecoach around the campgrounds. Our job was to invite people to the rodeo. Surprisingly enough, some of the campers hadn’t heard that the rodeo was in town, so we encouraged them to crawl out from under their rock and check it out.
5:30 - meet at the van and get dressed for the first night of rodeo! My stomach was turning and lurching with anticipation and excitement. I swung my leg over the saddle and tightened the chaps to my legs. Buddy’s excitement showed too as we pranced into the arena to warm up. It was pretty amazing to watch all of the faces stream into the crowd. Seeing the affectionate smiles of friends, family, and members of the community led to a overwhelming sense of support. When we were asked to leave the arena to start the rodeo, my butterflies were almost bursting through my stomach and into my throat. The visiting courts lined up behind us for the Grand Entry. When we were finally allowed in, Buddy burst into the arena (anticipating a run-in) but slowed to a lope as we weaved through the Tuckerettes and waved to the crowd as we were introduced. At the end of the serpentine, we exited through the roping gates and had to rush around the arena to the run-in gate. Buddy was exploding with energy - so ready to fly around the ring. As we surged into the arena, I entered tunnel vision. A unification of horse and human bound by trust beyond measure. A flood of adrenaline and the roar of the crowd. As I slowed into the final corner, a rush of awareness came over me. All the hard work had paid off - it was finally my time to shine. Ticket sales, makeup, hair, long nights memorizing my speech, countless hours in the saddle: all of it was worth the incredible experience before us.
Following a short autograph signing session outside the gate, we kicked our heels up at the Family Dance. I can remember when my family took me to this event many years ago. This year I danced with the little girls who were so appreciative of our company.
Thursday, July 28 - Darlene’s Brunch at 9:00. For the first time in Chief Joseph Days history (we think) the court was allowed to wear their hair straight. Whooo! No curlers for us! The brunch we attended was for the current court to get together with courts on their 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, etc. anniversaries. It was really special to hear about their experiences and memories. Every one of them expressed gratitude for the memories and skills gained in their year representing CJD. Nostalgia was in the air on that beautiful, cloudless morning as old friends were reunited over a delicious meal.
12:30 - Visit to Alpine Senior House. Said hello to the elderly people living in the senior house and talked with them about our experience as they ate breakfast and drank coffee. Not sure how clued in they were about what we were talking about, but they were all very appreciative.
After visiting the Alpine House, we walked into Joseph to hand out flyers for the CJD teen dance. This allowed us an opportunity to walk around the booths as well. After we finished shopping and marketing, we had lunch at the Outlaw Restaurant with Brinda, our chaperone.
5:30 - Tough Enough To Wear Pink Rodeo! A portion of the ticket sales as well as money from raffle and miscellaneous souvenirs went to the Wallowa Valley Health Care District for local cancer screenings. Over the past four years, CJD has donated more than $14,000 for this cause. The rodeo was another success, and it was back to the curlers for us that night.
Friday, July 29 - American Legion Breakfast at 8:00. This breakfast event was right before the Kiddie Parade, so we ate with our costumes on. Fairy costumes at that. We got lots of compliments, as well as odd looks. The Kiddie Parade was relaxed and fun, but the best part was seeing our dad’s dressed up as the Rednek Rodeeyo Court. Only a picture can describe this ridiculous sight (:
After the Kiddie Parade, we changed clothes to go to the Sports Corral to sign autographs. Signing autographs is a bittersweet thing for me... I know how much the kids appreciate it, but I have the hardest time understanding why my signature is so important. I can barely handle the local fame of being on the rodeo court, and I can’t even imagine being famous world-wide! I liked signing autographs after the rodeo much better because we were still beaming with the bliss of a great night on our horses. Over the course of the week, we signed boots, hats, posters, shirts, programs, and pictures.
Today, our family also celebrated my Grandfather’s birthday at Terminal Gravity. I moseyed over to my previous employment, happy to spend time with my family which I hadn’t seen much of with all the hustle and bustle of the week.
6:00 - Warm up for Friday Night Rodeo! This was definitely the best night in my mind. It surprised me, however, because the most emphasis is placed on Saturday night.
After the rodeo, we went to the teen dance until it ended at 12. It was so fun to wind down and have a great time with our friends. When I got home around 12:30, I took a shower, dried my hair, and woke my mom up around 1:15 to put my hair in curlers for the last time! Yayyyyy! Now that’s what you call family support.
Saturday, July 30 - Shrine breakfast at 8:00. Suede day all day! Which was... hot. Pancakes for the 7th time (haha). Following breakfast, we got ready for the Grand Parade. It was an overcast day, so we weren’t sweating buckets... yet. The parade was a blast, but my arm must have gotten out of shape from the last rodeo because I could hardly hold it up at the end. But the sore arm was so worth leading our own parade!
After the parade, we put our horses away and walked to the Joseph Community Center for the Queen’s Luncheon. Sara Freels, a former CJD Princess, and her mother had so generously decorated the room and prepared the food. As visiting courts trickled in, we welcomed them and gave them their gift (a bundle of CJD scrapbook materials made by Jeni Greenshields). Once everyone was seated, we introduced ourselves, our special guests, and thanked the sponsors and volunteers. After the meal, every court introduced themselves before getting together for a group picture. More courts than we had seen at any other rodeo attended our luncheon which goes to show what a great and fun rodeo Chief Joseph Days is.
After the luncheon, we made our way to the Indian Encampment. There were some delays after the Friendship Feast - pushing back the dancing, but we were set on staying. I had the pleasure of talking with a man who shared his experiences at Native American ceremonies. Eventually, we were welcomed with a dance directed in appreciation for Brooke and I. It was a really powerful and special experience, and I couldn’t help myself from letting out some tears of gratitude. It was probably partly lack of sleep, but I have always been intrigued by noble history and traditions of the Native American people, and being a part of this ceremony was overpowering.
6:00 - Last night of Chief Joseph Days. As well as the normal routine - Grand Entry (largest one yet!), run-ins, rounding up calves, setting out barrels - we handed out the awards for each event. Unfortunately, most of the winners weren’t present, as they had already left for another rodeo. But business is business, and this year has opened my eyes to the life of a cowboy, so I understood their absence. Tonight was the last night we rode our horses by the rail and said “Happy Trails” to the people leaving the bleachers. Buddy was awesome with the kids - he leaned up against the rails and let them stroke and caress him (sometimes not very gently). All too soon, we were called over to the autograph table for the last time.
We rallied for the last night of the teen dance. In the past, the courts wear their suedes and leave really early to catch up on sleep and avoid overheating. We agreed to leave early to avoid the same problem. To our delight, Brinda told us that we could bring our own clothes to change after around a half an hour. I was so excited and stayed till the very end, taking advantage of every second of this special week.
After the dance, Landra and some friends went to the lake and jumped in. As if it could get any better, we went to the Cowboy Breakfast at around 2 a.m., eating pancakes with wet hair and smiles.
Sunday, July 31 - 8:00 Cowboy Breakfast (again). Oooh, this morning came too soon. Haha! Luckily we were allowed to wear our hair in pony tails (no curlers at ungodly hours).
9:00 - Cowboy Church. A very interesting experience indeed. It was the first time I had attended this event, and I was fascinated by many aspects of the sermon. It was also a great opportunity to tear off my fake nails (: When it was over, Chief Joseph Days had officially come to an end.
A bittersweet thing indeed. The week went by in no time. While I would have liked it to last longer, I don’t know if my body could have handled another couple days of minimal sleep and the constant demand of the Rodeo Queen image. That being said, I wouldn’t have traded my time in our mountain shadowed arena for anything.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Elgin Stampede! July 10-12
After the long weekend at St. Paul, it was great to have a week to recover (probably for the horses as well). Brinda had talked to us on the way home from St. Paul about the possibility of going to Elgin two nights: the Mark Nichols Memorial Bull Riding Night and the Sunday Performance.
Once Friday came along, we packed our bags, which were significantly smaller since we left the horses at home, and sat tight while the van winded through the canyon to Elgin. Once we got there, we met up with Diane Snyder (our family friend and my dad’s former boss) and her son Wyatt (Diane and our chaperone Brinda are sisters). As we walked through the vendor’s booths, we came across Craig Nichols, Liza Jane Nichols, and Adele Nash (family friends). Mark Nichols was Craig’s son, a talented bull rider who passed away in a tragic accident. Their family represented Mark, and Craig paid tribute to the night by singing the National Anthem. I worked with Adele at Terminal Gravity for a summer, and she gave me tips for court, as she was the Elgin Stampede Queen around five years ago. It was great to see them on this special night.
Once the bull riding started, we sat and watched for a while. Wyatt started to give us a hard time that we weren’t passing out stickers or rack cards. Soooooo, we did just that. We left the stands until the final round – plastering the children with stickers and promoting Chief Joseph Days. We returned to the stands to watch the final round before heading back to Enterprise. The rodeo clown shot tee shirts to the stands as the bull riders drew for their bulls. I had my eye on a shirt, but they never came within range. Bummer. But Brooke did get her elephant ear she had craved since St. Paul!
On Sunday, we returned to Elgin for the Parade, Queen’s Luncheon, and Grand Entry. While we waited for the parade to start, we recorded radio spots for Union County. After recording, we mounted our horses and mingled with the CJD directors who followed us in the parade. The parade route weaved through the streets of Elgin. There was a great contrast between this parade and the huge St. Paul parade. The Queen’s Luncheon followed there after.
The run-ins during the rodeo went really well! When the clown started shooting the tee shirt cannon, I was determined to claim one. Brooke and I stood on the fence and waved our arms, screaming at the clown to send one our way. The announcer made a comment, “Hey, you’ve even got some rodeo queens over there on the fence asking for a tee shirt!” He shot one towards the fence, but it didn’t make it over. The little kids and I strained to grab it through the bars on the fence, but it was just far enough that we couldn’t reach. I opted to hop the fence before anyone else could get my precious tee shirt. After the fact, Brinda said she didn’t think I could move that fast with the tight pants I was wearing. But like I said, I was determined! Turned out the shirt I got was an extra-large, red Pendleton Whiskey tee shirt. I must say I’m still proud of that shirt – it’s probably the first and last thing I’ll ever win in the stands of any event.
My first experience at the Elgin Stampede was very positive – it is a great little rodeo. Seeing people I knew in the stands was also a plus. I guess it gives a taste to what Chief Joseph Days will be like with so many familiar faces in the stands. So excited!
Monday, July 18, 2011
St. Paul & Molalla Independence Day Weekend
Early on July 1, the Chief Joseph Days crew set out for their longest journey yet: St. Paul and Molalla Rodeos. Our journey entailed of an approximately six and a half hour drive and a visit to the Shriners Hospital for Children in Portland. On the way to Portland, we stopped at a Truck Stop Food Court thing in Pendleton for breakfast. I was still full from my bowl of granola, yogurt, and strawberries, but I nevertheless went in to stretch my legs. In retrospect I probably could have done without the blatant stares directed at my hot pink sponge curlers. As if this occurrence wasn't sufficient, we stopped again a couple hours later for lunch. But this time, our curlers were out and our Shirley Temple bobs were in. We, once again, received gawks from all directions. However, we had a lady approach us and compliment us. "Your hair is so great!" she raved. Her daughter, standing next to her in line for Subway, obviously thought differently. "Isn't it great, honey?" her mom rhetorically asked. "Yeahhhh..." she replied sheepishly. In her mind I'm sure she was saying, "Ew, that is disgusting. They look like creepy Shirley Temple clowns." But we made sure to tell anyone who asked exactly why we were sporting this look. Ahhh, the joys of a theatrical look...
Upon arriving at the Shriner’s Hospital, I was unsure of how to feel. The Shriner's Hospital provides medical care for children under the age of 18 - no matter the severity of their condition. From kids with broken arms, to back surgeries, to serious physical and mental impairments, the hospital treats everyone. There I was, a pretty average teenager in my mind, visiting children who could only dream about the experiences I am having on court. As we were taken into each child’s room, whether their injury or impairment was small or great, I was overcome by compassion. I began to rethink what I take for granted. Seeing the smiles and optimism of each family and child in a time of suffering was extremely humbling.
This visit left me with a good mind-set for the upcoming weekend. After settling into the hotel, we had a team meeting to decide what to do on our free night. We opted to attend the rodeo incognito, as it would be our only opportunity to enjoy the whole performance. St. Paul was huge! Thousands of people surrounded the circular arena that hosted top-notch cowboys. The energy was everywhere: the patriotism, the celebration, the competition. I couldn’t wait to be a part of it the next day.
Interestingly enough, we ended up sitting next two a group of friends from Sweden. My mom talked to them in Norwegian, and they seemed surprised at the chance of meeting someone Scandinavian at the St. Paul Rodeo of all places. Serendipity at its best. The Swede’s weren’t the only interesting people we sat next to. My mom was lucky enough to sit next to a creepy old man (with ghastly breath) who kept trying to talk to us and hit on my mom. “Are you two sisters?” he said, acknowledging my mom and I sitting next to each other. My mom straightened him out, but I think he knew the answer and was rather trying to use it as a pick-up line. Throughout the events, he nonchalantly scooched closer and closer to us. Finally, my mom decided she was hungry (which served as a nice excuse) – leaving the creepy man to sit closest to Brooke. Might I say the man’s eyes followed my mom leaving… Haha! My mom returned, and sat on the other side of me, strategically one row up from the man with as much distance as possible. Now Brooke was stuck next to him. To her despair, he moved himself up a row so he was even closer. Brooke started ignoring him more and more, and he started trying harder and harder. Towards the end of the rodeo, everyone forgot about the man, and watched the “Wild Horse Races.” My eyes grew wide as the announcer explained what the event entailed. “Ladies and gentlemen, these men are about to perform one of the wildest events at any rodeo. These teams of cowboys are going to try to hold on to their horse as it gets let out of the bucking chutes, put a saddle on, and ride through the tunnel that leads outside the arena. But there’s a catch… These horses have never been ridden before in their lives.” As they let the horses out of the chutes, the teams strained and dug their boots into the dusty arena to hold on as the horses charged forward. A member of the team would run up to the horse’s ear and hold it and cover its face so it would calm down for the saddle. Another cowboy would jump on and hope to God he wouldn’t get seriously injured as the wild horse jumped, bucked, reared, and galloped around the arena. Trying to stay on was one thing, but trying to guide the horse into a dark tunnel when it had never been ridden before was another thing. Remarkably, each night a cowboy would convince the horse to run through. This usually led to another, and another, and another (as horses like to stay in herds). However, there is always one horse that is completely set on avoiding the deep, dark, menacing tunnel. It took pick-up men and hundreds of circles around the arena to finally coax him in. At the end of the rodeo, the lights were shut off for a 4th of July fireworks celebration. The fireworks were launched over our horses pasture, but they were still alive the next morning.
Before we went back to St. Paul the next day, we had time to kill during the morning. To our delight, the hotel was two minutes from an outlet mall. Not to break the tradition of past court girls, Brooke and I spent most of Saturday and Sunday mornings walking around the mall in our sponge curlers to ensure long-lasting rodeo curls. Needless to say we received questioning looks. But we did get our shopping in! Helly Hansen Ski Pants (70% off – total score!), nose rings (when my duties are done), and random articles of clothing. I used my money wisely though – promise. I am a Sindum of course. (;
Back at the St. Paul Rodeo… Even though the Grand Entries that evening were limited to a slow pace, we still had a blast. We passed out rolls of stickers and heaps of rack cards. Everyone was so cordial and friendly… and some were a wee bit tipsyyyyy. But that made it easier to pass out stickers! Brooke and I walked around the arena for around two hours until Brinda called us into the stands. We wanted to keep going, but she said we needed to be done. We did manage to pass out quite a few stickers in the stands… one guy wanted them on his butt, but he wanted meeeee to do it. It’s part of the job, I suppose! Haha. When we got home, we were ecstatic that we didn’t have to put our hair in curlers. Brinda was letting us do our hair straight for Molalla. This might not seem like a big deal, but Chief Joseph Days has never gone straight before to a rodeo. Brinda was willing to take the chance, hoping that the directors would be willing for some change, and Brooke and I were pretty pumped. It also made our lives easier so that we didn’t have to stay up super late after the Molalla rodeo to wash our hair, dry it, and put it in curlers when we were getting up really early the next morning. I already have a hard time with mornings anyway… Continental breakfast ended at 10:00 a.m. every day, so I asked Brinda to wake me up at five till (:
Before the rodeo season started, Alex McCadden (last year’s Queen and one of my friends) told me that Molalla was one of her favorite rodeos. She said that the people treated them so well there and the Molalla directors were so grateful to have them there. I was looking forward to the evening, as we followed the winding road through agricultural fields of hops, grapes, wheat, nursery plants, and orchards. When we arrived, we were in a great mood – the weather was beautiful, our hair was straight, an actual run-in! Brooke and I walked our horses to the gate where we expected them to let us in so we could warm up. The man at the gate told us otherwise, “You guys missed the warm-up in the arena. We just closed it fifteen minutes ago. But there’s a pasture over there where everyone else is warming up. It’s fair opportunity.” The pasture he was talking about? Yeah… It was this tiny, steep, oblong piece of the slippery pasture where girls were going around and around in tight circles. In other words, not even close to acceptable as a warm up arena. We looked back at the arena. We planned to come here so we could be mounted an hour early for warm-up. So much for that. And you know what was keeping us out of there? A stupid truck was parked in the middle. If I was a spectator, I would much rather see the court girls and contestants warm their horses up than a stupid parked truck. Oh well. We made shift with the tiny, pathetic pasture. I started to remember what Alex had said to me. Hmmmm… Maybe they have new directors – who haven’t received a lesson in being cordial to the courts that drive seven hours to come to your rodeo.
While we stood outside waiting for the serpentines/run-ins, I started to notice how attached Buddy was becoming to Brooke’s horse, Andy. They were pasture buddies for two nights by now, and it seemed like they were already the best of friends. Every time they rode away from us, he nickered and lost his patience with me. Well the patience thing was mutual after a while. I gave up trying to keep them separated, and stood with Brooke while we waited. A man walked up to us and told us that we needed to be extra cautious when we did our run-ins because their Queen’s horse took a nasty fall the night before. Alright, I thought, there’s no reason to risk it. A few minutes after he left, another man came over and said the same thing. “It took us a long time to get her out of the arena. Just make sure you’re careful.” Gotchya. I do not want to be the re-run of last night. Brinda came over, and I was looking forward to a change in subject. “You girls need to be careful in the arena. It’s really deep and they had a girl go down last night.” Geez, now my stomach was starting to lurch. As if that wasn’t sufficient, my mom came over to warn us. I would rather be warned fifteen times than none, but this was starting to be overkill. When they called us up for run-ins, they asked us to leave a lot of space for the horse in front of us. Buddy wasn’t so thrilled about that. As soon as Andy left, I felt him wind up like a tight spring. He started prancing on his hind feet, rearing up, and loping in place. Great, I thought. When they finally let me in, he immediately expected a run-in. The serpentine was first, so I had to hold him back while he charged through the deep mud. At first I was trying to control his pace in the mud. He acted as if my cues were a fly on his shoulder, so I decided he knew what was best for his safety (hopefully) and he wouldn’t try to kill himself. We lined up in the middle, and I gave a sigh of relief. I sighed too soon. My horse was still the spring that left the arena – winding tighter and tighter as he stood in the line. Buddy was usually an angel in the line-up – standing still and looking perky. Tonight, he was absolutely the opposite. He would not stay still throughout the announcer’s commentary. He pranced small circles behind the line, turning occasionally to see if he could run out of the arena. When I was able to get him straightened out next to another horse, he would rub and chew on the horse next to him in a nervous habit. Then we would repeat the process. But here’s the thing: Molalla shoots a canon off during the National Anthem. “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air!” I was so ready for the spring to shoot out in any direction. Luckily, all of the horses flinched, but didn’t do anything drastic (It must have helped to have our horses in the pasture under St. Paul’s firework show). Each time the crowd cheered, Buddy anticipated. Finally, it was time to do our run-ins. The moment Buddy had been waiting for. However, I still made sure we were going at a reasonable pace so we avoided taking a tumble. When we got out of the arena, I gave Buddy to my dad so Brooke and I could go hand out rack-cards and stickers. The spring must have still been partially winded, because he hadn’t lost his prance. Crazy horse.
We worked the crowd for a while, but after making five rounds, it seemed like we were seeing the same people. Brooke had her eye on getting an elephant ear, so we walked back to Brinda to get her money. Brinda said it was time to go, so we didn’t have time to run back and get one. Which was alright for me, because I could use without sugary, butter-soaked, deep-fried dough.
When we left, I thought it was a shame that things didn’t go more smoothly. Molalla had the potential to be really fun, but I think my expectations were set too high, and it was hard to compete with the fun we’d had in St. Paul. In retrospect, Molalla was pretty similar to Chief Joseph Days in size and atmosphere, which is why Del and Brinda enjoyed it so much.
We got home pretty late that evening, and our generous mothers put our hair in sponge curlers before bed.
On Monday morning, after waking up at an ungodly hour to eat continental breakfast and get ready, the Chief Joseph Days crew racked in the awards at the parade. Brooke and I won first in the visiting court division, and, along with the Stage Coach and directors, claimed the Sweepstakes award. The energy followed us as we finished the parade and our final appearance at the afternoon rodeo. And Brooke got her elephant ear!
In retrospect, I would say St. Paul is my favorite rodeo thus far. And what better a way to conclude such a fantastic weekend than making it back to the fireworks at the Wallowa Lake?
Upon arriving at the Shriner’s Hospital, I was unsure of how to feel. The Shriner's Hospital provides medical care for children under the age of 18 - no matter the severity of their condition. From kids with broken arms, to back surgeries, to serious physical and mental impairments, the hospital treats everyone. There I was, a pretty average teenager in my mind, visiting children who could only dream about the experiences I am having on court. As we were taken into each child’s room, whether their injury or impairment was small or great, I was overcome by compassion. I began to rethink what I take for granted. Seeing the smiles and optimism of each family and child in a time of suffering was extremely humbling.
This visit left me with a good mind-set for the upcoming weekend. After settling into the hotel, we had a team meeting to decide what to do on our free night. We opted to attend the rodeo incognito, as it would be our only opportunity to enjoy the whole performance. St. Paul was huge! Thousands of people surrounded the circular arena that hosted top-notch cowboys. The energy was everywhere: the patriotism, the celebration, the competition. I couldn’t wait to be a part of it the next day.
Interestingly enough, we ended up sitting next two a group of friends from Sweden. My mom talked to them in Norwegian, and they seemed surprised at the chance of meeting someone Scandinavian at the St. Paul Rodeo of all places. Serendipity at its best. The Swede’s weren’t the only interesting people we sat next to. My mom was lucky enough to sit next to a creepy old man (with ghastly breath) who kept trying to talk to us and hit on my mom. “Are you two sisters?” he said, acknowledging my mom and I sitting next to each other. My mom straightened him out, but I think he knew the answer and was rather trying to use it as a pick-up line. Throughout the events, he nonchalantly scooched closer and closer to us. Finally, my mom decided she was hungry (which served as a nice excuse) – leaving the creepy man to sit closest to Brooke. Might I say the man’s eyes followed my mom leaving… Haha! My mom returned, and sat on the other side of me, strategically one row up from the man with as much distance as possible. Now Brooke was stuck next to him. To her despair, he moved himself up a row so he was even closer. Brooke started ignoring him more and more, and he started trying harder and harder. Towards the end of the rodeo, everyone forgot about the man, and watched the “Wild Horse Races.” My eyes grew wide as the announcer explained what the event entailed. “Ladies and gentlemen, these men are about to perform one of the wildest events at any rodeo. These teams of cowboys are going to try to hold on to their horse as it gets let out of the bucking chutes, put a saddle on, and ride through the tunnel that leads outside the arena. But there’s a catch… These horses have never been ridden before in their lives.” As they let the horses out of the chutes, the teams strained and dug their boots into the dusty arena to hold on as the horses charged forward. A member of the team would run up to the horse’s ear and hold it and cover its face so it would calm down for the saddle. Another cowboy would jump on and hope to God he wouldn’t get seriously injured as the wild horse jumped, bucked, reared, and galloped around the arena. Trying to stay on was one thing, but trying to guide the horse into a dark tunnel when it had never been ridden before was another thing. Remarkably, each night a cowboy would convince the horse to run through. This usually led to another, and another, and another (as horses like to stay in herds). However, there is always one horse that is completely set on avoiding the deep, dark, menacing tunnel. It took pick-up men and hundreds of circles around the arena to finally coax him in. At the end of the rodeo, the lights were shut off for a 4th of July fireworks celebration. The fireworks were launched over our horses pasture, but they were still alive the next morning.
Before we went back to St. Paul the next day, we had time to kill during the morning. To our delight, the hotel was two minutes from an outlet mall. Not to break the tradition of past court girls, Brooke and I spent most of Saturday and Sunday mornings walking around the mall in our sponge curlers to ensure long-lasting rodeo curls. Needless to say we received questioning looks. But we did get our shopping in! Helly Hansen Ski Pants (70% off – total score!), nose rings (when my duties are done), and random articles of clothing. I used my money wisely though – promise. I am a Sindum of course. (;
Back at the St. Paul Rodeo… Even though the Grand Entries that evening were limited to a slow pace, we still had a blast. We passed out rolls of stickers and heaps of rack cards. Everyone was so cordial and friendly… and some were a wee bit tipsyyyyy. But that made it easier to pass out stickers! Brooke and I walked around the arena for around two hours until Brinda called us into the stands. We wanted to keep going, but she said we needed to be done. We did manage to pass out quite a few stickers in the stands… one guy wanted them on his butt, but he wanted meeeee to do it. It’s part of the job, I suppose! Haha. When we got home, we were ecstatic that we didn’t have to put our hair in curlers. Brinda was letting us do our hair straight for Molalla. This might not seem like a big deal, but Chief Joseph Days has never gone straight before to a rodeo. Brinda was willing to take the chance, hoping that the directors would be willing for some change, and Brooke and I were pretty pumped. It also made our lives easier so that we didn’t have to stay up super late after the Molalla rodeo to wash our hair, dry it, and put it in curlers when we were getting up really early the next morning. I already have a hard time with mornings anyway… Continental breakfast ended at 10:00 a.m. every day, so I asked Brinda to wake me up at five till (:
Before the rodeo season started, Alex McCadden (last year’s Queen and one of my friends) told me that Molalla was one of her favorite rodeos. She said that the people treated them so well there and the Molalla directors were so grateful to have them there. I was looking forward to the evening, as we followed the winding road through agricultural fields of hops, grapes, wheat, nursery plants, and orchards. When we arrived, we were in a great mood – the weather was beautiful, our hair was straight, an actual run-in! Brooke and I walked our horses to the gate where we expected them to let us in so we could warm up. The man at the gate told us otherwise, “You guys missed the warm-up in the arena. We just closed it fifteen minutes ago. But there’s a pasture over there where everyone else is warming up. It’s fair opportunity.” The pasture he was talking about? Yeah… It was this tiny, steep, oblong piece of the slippery pasture where girls were going around and around in tight circles. In other words, not even close to acceptable as a warm up arena. We looked back at the arena. We planned to come here so we could be mounted an hour early for warm-up. So much for that. And you know what was keeping us out of there? A stupid truck was parked in the middle. If I was a spectator, I would much rather see the court girls and contestants warm their horses up than a stupid parked truck. Oh well. We made shift with the tiny, pathetic pasture. I started to remember what Alex had said to me. Hmmmm… Maybe they have new directors – who haven’t received a lesson in being cordial to the courts that drive seven hours to come to your rodeo.
While we stood outside waiting for the serpentines/run-ins, I started to notice how attached Buddy was becoming to Brooke’s horse, Andy. They were pasture buddies for two nights by now, and it seemed like they were already the best of friends. Every time they rode away from us, he nickered and lost his patience with me. Well the patience thing was mutual after a while. I gave up trying to keep them separated, and stood with Brooke while we waited. A man walked up to us and told us that we needed to be extra cautious when we did our run-ins because their Queen’s horse took a nasty fall the night before. Alright, I thought, there’s no reason to risk it. A few minutes after he left, another man came over and said the same thing. “It took us a long time to get her out of the arena. Just make sure you’re careful.” Gotchya. I do not want to be the re-run of last night. Brinda came over, and I was looking forward to a change in subject. “You girls need to be careful in the arena. It’s really deep and they had a girl go down last night.” Geez, now my stomach was starting to lurch. As if that wasn’t sufficient, my mom came over to warn us. I would rather be warned fifteen times than none, but this was starting to be overkill. When they called us up for run-ins, they asked us to leave a lot of space for the horse in front of us. Buddy wasn’t so thrilled about that. As soon as Andy left, I felt him wind up like a tight spring. He started prancing on his hind feet, rearing up, and loping in place. Great, I thought. When they finally let me in, he immediately expected a run-in. The serpentine was first, so I had to hold him back while he charged through the deep mud. At first I was trying to control his pace in the mud. He acted as if my cues were a fly on his shoulder, so I decided he knew what was best for his safety (hopefully) and he wouldn’t try to kill himself. We lined up in the middle, and I gave a sigh of relief. I sighed too soon. My horse was still the spring that left the arena – winding tighter and tighter as he stood in the line. Buddy was usually an angel in the line-up – standing still and looking perky. Tonight, he was absolutely the opposite. He would not stay still throughout the announcer’s commentary. He pranced small circles behind the line, turning occasionally to see if he could run out of the arena. When I was able to get him straightened out next to another horse, he would rub and chew on the horse next to him in a nervous habit. Then we would repeat the process. But here’s the thing: Molalla shoots a canon off during the National Anthem. “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air!” I was so ready for the spring to shoot out in any direction. Luckily, all of the horses flinched, but didn’t do anything drastic (It must have helped to have our horses in the pasture under St. Paul’s firework show). Each time the crowd cheered, Buddy anticipated. Finally, it was time to do our run-ins. The moment Buddy had been waiting for. However, I still made sure we were going at a reasonable pace so we avoided taking a tumble. When we got out of the arena, I gave Buddy to my dad so Brooke and I could go hand out rack-cards and stickers. The spring must have still been partially winded, because he hadn’t lost his prance. Crazy horse.
We worked the crowd for a while, but after making five rounds, it seemed like we were seeing the same people. Brooke had her eye on getting an elephant ear, so we walked back to Brinda to get her money. Brinda said it was time to go, so we didn’t have time to run back and get one. Which was alright for me, because I could use without sugary, butter-soaked, deep-fried dough.
When we left, I thought it was a shame that things didn’t go more smoothly. Molalla had the potential to be really fun, but I think my expectations were set too high, and it was hard to compete with the fun we’d had in St. Paul. In retrospect, Molalla was pretty similar to Chief Joseph Days in size and atmosphere, which is why Del and Brinda enjoyed it so much.
We got home pretty late that evening, and our generous mothers put our hair in sponge curlers before bed.
On Monday morning, after waking up at an ungodly hour to eat continental breakfast and get ready, the Chief Joseph Days crew racked in the awards at the parade. Brooke and I won first in the visiting court division, and, along with the Stage Coach and directors, claimed the Sweepstakes award. The energy followed us as we finished the parade and our final appearance at the afternoon rodeo. And Brooke got her elephant ear!
In retrospect, I would say St. Paul is my favorite rodeo thus far. And what better a way to conclude such a fantastic weekend than making it back to the fireworks at the Wallowa Lake?
Monday, July 11, 2011
CJD Kickoff Trail Ride
I forgot to mention this earlier, but the day before the Amy Hafer Race and the Ranch Rodeo, Brooke and I rode our horses on a trail ride with some old-timers and those involved in Chief Joseph Days. We went up to the moraine, near where Chief Joseph Days used to be held, above the lake. Ironically, some of the horses decided to have their own rodeo at the top - crow hops and rearing - a load of frisk if you ask me. Thankfully, nobody took a dump, and everyone returned safe and sound. On the way back, we rode our horses through Main Street, Joseph - with a line of about 20 cars behind us. Side-street tourists looked slightly confused. We even had a mobile announcer: a man driving a truck with speakers set up in the back. He talked to passer-byers and tried to wake the sleepy town of Joseph. Chief Joseph Days is in town! Countdown here we come!
Ranch Rodeo
After the Amy Hafer Race, I ran home to get a shower (a well needed one) and get ready for the Kickoff to Chief Joseph Days Ranch Rodeo. My mom secured Brooke and I with some pretty snazzy outfits oversized pants, suspenders, loads of bandanas, and face paint - rodeooooo clowns! Brinda, our chaperone, told us our duty was to help out with mutton bustin' and draw for the National Finals Rodeo raffle. As the kids hung over the chutes, my memory wandered to when I participated in the mutton bustin' at Chief Joseph Days so many years ago. My clammy hands clinging to my mom. My green velvet helmet with a chin-strap (yes a chin strap). I was never any good at it - barely stayed on for three seconds. And to be honest, I have no idea why I ever signed up... I have a feeling my mom had something to do with it. Entertainment probably. Haha! However, some of these kids were serious about their rides. They clung on like there was no tomorrow - even as they hung sideways off the sheep nearly grazing the ground with their head. There are three styles of mutton: the runners, the jumpers, and the runner-jumpers. Sometimes you'll find one that just likes to stand around, which is good for staying on, but bad for your score. Brooke and I were told to direct the mutton so that they didn't slam the kids into the fence and once the kid was off, to chase the animal down and pull of the rope. Haha. Fat chance. Those things made me look like a donkey chasing a unobtainable carrot tied to a string in front of him. 
Luckily there were some men who knew what they were doing who could perform the latter. I was pretty successful in preventing tragedies of children to the fence, but was pretty lucky in one instance where the child barely skimmed the fence right next to me. You can't herd sheep.
After each child had fallen off, before the buzzer or after, Brooke or I (whoever was closest) ran over and gave them a Chief Joseph Days sucker. Some of the kids were in tears, some were putting their tough faces on, and some were ecstatic (usually the one's with good scores). Funny side note on the lollipops - Brooke and I were frantically trying to find some sort of candy we could give the kids to take their mind off of the fear of soaring through the arena on a sheep. We ran out of the new suckers during the EOLS parade, but we managed to find a old box of suckers while rummaging in the van. They looked a little bit skeptical. To make sure we weren't feeding the kids outdated suckers (oxymoron?) I tested one out. Super, super chewy. But still taste good! Suckers for the win!
As the last of the mutton busters finished their bustin', the first, second, and third place winners were announced. They received some money, and the non-winners received dollar coins. Bribery sure works with little kids! Every hint of fear had left their faces and was replaced with a smile. Tooooooo priceless. We thought our duty was done, but quickly found out we were to help out in another children's game: the stick-horse race. Before the race, we passed out stick-horses of assorted colors and set out a barrel for the kids to run around. A white start/finish line was draw in the dirt with flour. Alright, I thought, this is going to be entertaining. Turns out the entertainment was partly us. The announcer informed Brooke and I that we were to demonstrate. He even made some comment about how lame it would be to lose. My competitiveness kicked me in the stomach. I marched over to the box and picked out a palomino steed. Brooke picked a sorrel. Ironically enough, we picked horses closest to the color of our own. As we lined up, I thought, "No way am I going to lose this. Ha! Fat chance. Especially with all of these local cowboys watching. Sure, it's only a stupid race I'll never remember in a year, but at them moment I can't let down." My thought patterns were peculiarly similar to that morning. "Ready!" I lined my feet up on the flour line. "Set!" My stomach lurched with the "track butterflies". "Go!" I sprung forward and sprinted towards the barrel. We were pretty close, but I was inching ahead. Luckily, I got myself to the inside of the barrel, giving me a head start to the finish line. I was now around one-length in front of her, crossing the finish line first. Did I get my competitive spirit from my dad as well as his timeliness? I think so...
The most entertainment, however, came later. The little kids lined up in two different age groups - younger kids first. When the announcer said "Go!" the reaction was a little delayed. Some of them started running in a different direction of the barrel, and it was Brooke and I's job to direct them. The older kids were a little quicker on the trigger. Some of the kids were so serious about making it to the barrel that their coordination left them and they face-planted in the dirt. They all had great attitudes about it, and kept running and baring their dirt-caked, toothless smiles. Sometimes the kids were so focused that they ran into each other, causing a catastrophic crash ending in a double face-plant. The crowd thought it was hilarious, and they all received suckers to help rid themselves of the dirt taste in their mouth.
Now that we had thoroughly amused the children, the announcer, and the spectators, we were allowed to retreat to the stands to watch the rodeo events. The real cowboys. There were five teams competing for the bragging rights to call themselves the fastest, most thorough ranch hands in the county. They competed in events ranging from branding to roping to bareback riding. Wages were placed on the winning teams with money going to Wallowa County Scholarships. It is a great contrast to Chief Joseph Days because all of the participants are familiar locals rather than untouchable celebrity athletes in the world of rodeo. Spectators cheered for their favorite teams - whether it was for their husband, brother, father, neighbor, or friend. Since he is an experienced roping horse, Buddy, the horse I am using for rodeo was used on the Steen's team (family who owns Buddy). It was fun to see him in another element. He LOVES that stuff. No wonder he is crotchety with me doing arena work - roping is so fun!
At the end of the night, Brooke and I drew for the National Finals Rodeo raffle. The winner would receive three nights at the South Point Hotel and tickets to the National Finals Rodeo. The winner, a local horsewoman, was so thrilled she did a victory dance. After the drawing, we stayed to watch the awards ceremony for the winner of the Ranch Rodeo and the Top Ranch Hands, both receiving beautiful belt buckles or spurs.
I had never been to the Ranch Rodeo before, but was enthused by the atmosphere and hometown pride in this local rodeo. I think it is fantastic that they have added this as a Chief Joseph Days event since CJD started as a little, local rodeo where cowboys from Wallowa County could show their talent without PRCA cards or restrictions. Keeping these traditions alive is so important.
Saturday, July 09, 2011
Amy Hafer Race
June 23, 2011
Woke up at 8:00 after eight hours of sleep. Supposed to be at the Wallowa Valley Memorial Hospital at 8:45. Made myself a breakfast of eggs, cucumber, Cholula hot sauce, and bread. Took my sweet time eating, while deciding whether I wanted to run, or walk.
Hmmm... am I feeling up for a run? I don't know... maybe I should do the walk. I haven't ran for a long time. And I ALWAYS siche myself out in running competitions. Somehow a foot race is always better when you are playing around with your friends. Wow I'm starting to get the track butterflies... Maybe I should just walk... But if I walked I would feel lame. Jeeeeeez, I am making this too complicated. I need to go brush my teeth and get dressed.
Soooo, I decided to quit worrying and start getting down there; the first and most important obligation. I checked the time...
SHOOT! Is it already 8:40?! I'm not even dressed yet!!! I need to hurry my buns up otherwise the race will start without me.
That's about the time I started running around like a cat with its tail on fire - filling up my water bottle, throwing my hair in a ponytail, trying to find my shoes, stumbling to the car.
Wheeewwww. Don't start relaxing now, I told myself. You haven't even made it down there, let alone raced. I turned on my car to hear the familiar Subaru vroom. My CD player spit out a mellow tune on my "Sunny Vibes" mix, and I decided it wouldn't do. I needed something hectic and noisy. Just like my current state. Dubstep. Cranked off the wazoo. 'Nuff said.
I sped down to the hospital, and resorted to parking in the very back of the gravel lot, since everyone else had been there for at least 15 minutes. 8:53. Wow, I really need to start working on timeliness. It's just not my forte. You can tell I'm my father's daughter. Unfortunately I don't quite have his reputation and credibility locked in. Time only waits for the big dogs. I started to run out of my car; then I thought, "Am I crazy? Running already? Sheesh I already feel like I've ran three miles. Am I really ready for another three?"
I walked onto the manicured hospital lawn where pink balloons were scattered along with speakers and lawn chairs. The rainbow colored ribbons that announced the finish line waved in the breeze. My stomach lurched. By the lawn chairs I noticed I was being waved at. Three timely people: my mother, Brooke, and Stacy. All of whom had probably been there for around twenty minutes. To hell with excuses. I'll just nonchalantly walk up and find out where to sign up. "You're too late to sign up," my mom said, "just chose what you want to do, but you won't count in the results since your not in the system and we haven't payed." Ahhh, whatever, I thought to myself. Not like I'll be a hot shot anyway. Hell, I might as well even run/walk since I don't have to follow the rules.
Two minutes after I arrived, we were instructed to line up by the start/finish line. Brooke, who was signed up for the run, lined up next to me. She was pretty confident in doing the run after jogging for the past couple weeks. I had no intention of keeping up with her, I just wanted to do my thing. Ya know? Someone fired the gun, which surprisingly didn't reactivate the butterflies who used to gnaw at my stomach during track. Good start. I kept the pace with Brooke as we weaved in and out of the streets of Enterprise - working our way to the dump road.
Hey, this isn't too bad. I'm feeling pretty excellent right now. As I started towards the steepest hill leading out of town, I decided to push on. I wasn't sure if Brooke and I were supposed to run together, but I for sure was going to run my best race at this point. No point in giving it little effort. My walk/run technique was starting to seem foolish. This is a beautiful day: no clouds in the sky, perfect temperature, slight breeze, shining sun. Go for it.
I pushed on, humbled by the different ages in the crowd: children, elderly, even those pushing strollers with twins. This is really cool. I passed my brother and his friend John Green (the water-hander-outers) and grabbed a cup. They laughed at my red, sweaty face. I decided to show 'em what's up, so I picked up my pace. They're not going to laugh when they see me the next time. Finally I made it to the turn-around point where my friend Erich was directing runners. He told me, "Hurry it up, you're at like 28 minutes." In my current state (a sweaty mess breathing like a freight train) I didn't really know if that was slow or if he was serious. I didn't really know anything except that I was now going to show both Erich and John/Niko that I wasn't inadequate. Push on.
I found myself approaching my sixth grade teacher, Colby Knifong. We ran and talked for a little while. Always great to catch up with her. "I want to have her spirit when I'm older," I told myself. "I don't want to lose my spontaneity and sense of adventure." I passed my brother and John once again. They looked surprised. "Whoaaaa, you are like tenth in the pack. There aren't that many people in front of you. Keep it up!" Excellent. Since my brother surpassed me in physical shape (to my dismay he is pretty ripped), I am usually the subject of jokes sarcastically directed at my "rock hard abs" and my weasel-like thighs (which in reality are showing a little love). But under that love lies muscles once belonging to a fierce Viking. I've never been much of a sprinter, but my ancestors did give me endurance.
I thought to myself, "What, there must be a mile left? Almost there. Let's go." I kicked it into my last gear. Whooooo, I'm going to feel this in the morning. But right now I feel absolutely wicked. Once I got to the road leading out to the hospital, my muscles started to tell me I was done. Not yet, I told them. I remembered a book my grandmother (Farmor) and dad used to read to me: The Little Engine that Could. "I think I can I think I can I think I can I think I can," I cooed to myself like my dad used to when we would go on long hikes. I could almost taste the rainbow flags. Yessssssss. "25, 26, 27, 28!" I crossed at around 28 minutes. I had no idea what that meant and how I did, but I was so happy to be done. And I seemed to be among the front of the pack. Wahooooo! So much for run/walk.
As the rest of the runners and walkers trickled in, we made our way to drink water and enjoy a light snack of fruit and assorted appetizers. Since Brooke and I are on CJD court, we were asked to talk about Tough Enough To Wear Pink night at the rodeo as well as pass out awards. Talking in front of people is getting so much easier. No more chill pills (I literally had to find homeopathic stress/anxiety relaxants during our speaking competition in the winter). The system for awards was pretty unorganized, but we eventually handed out all of the ribbons and announced the winners. Running is an amazing sport. I commend those who possess natural talent.
I had low expectations for the day, but was pleasantly surprised and excited by how much fun I had. Not only was there a brilliant turnout to support Breast Cancer screenings, but I had a blast! In addition, it turned out that if I had been signed up, I would have placed second in my age group - two minutes behind the winner (who happens to run every day and take the sport seriously). Pumped!
Woke up at 8:00 after eight hours of sleep. Supposed to be at the Wallowa Valley Memorial Hospital at 8:45. Made myself a breakfast of eggs, cucumber, Cholula hot sauce, and bread. Took my sweet time eating, while deciding whether I wanted to run, or walk.
Hmmm... am I feeling up for a run? I don't know... maybe I should do the walk. I haven't ran for a long time. And I ALWAYS siche myself out in running competitions. Somehow a foot race is always better when you are playing around with your friends. Wow I'm starting to get the track butterflies... Maybe I should just walk... But if I walked I would feel lame. Jeeeeeez, I am making this too complicated. I need to go brush my teeth and get dressed.
Soooo, I decided to quit worrying and start getting down there; the first and most important obligation. I checked the time...
SHOOT! Is it already 8:40?! I'm not even dressed yet!!! I need to hurry my buns up otherwise the race will start without me.
That's about the time I started running around like a cat with its tail on fire - filling up my water bottle, throwing my hair in a ponytail, trying to find my shoes, stumbling to the car.
Wheeewwww. Don't start relaxing now, I told myself. You haven't even made it down there, let alone raced. I turned on my car to hear the familiar Subaru vroom. My CD player spit out a mellow tune on my "Sunny Vibes" mix, and I decided it wouldn't do. I needed something hectic and noisy. Just like my current state. Dubstep. Cranked off the wazoo. 'Nuff said.
I sped down to the hospital, and resorted to parking in the very back of the gravel lot, since everyone else had been there for at least 15 minutes. 8:53. Wow, I really need to start working on timeliness. It's just not my forte. You can tell I'm my father's daughter. Unfortunately I don't quite have his reputation and credibility locked in. Time only waits for the big dogs. I started to run out of my car; then I thought, "Am I crazy? Running already? Sheesh I already feel like I've ran three miles. Am I really ready for another three?"
I walked onto the manicured hospital lawn where pink balloons were scattered along with speakers and lawn chairs. The rainbow colored ribbons that announced the finish line waved in the breeze. My stomach lurched. By the lawn chairs I noticed I was being waved at. Three timely people: my mother, Brooke, and Stacy. All of whom had probably been there for around twenty minutes. To hell with excuses. I'll just nonchalantly walk up and find out where to sign up. "You're too late to sign up," my mom said, "just chose what you want to do, but you won't count in the results since your not in the system and we haven't payed." Ahhh, whatever, I thought to myself. Not like I'll be a hot shot anyway. Hell, I might as well even run/walk since I don't have to follow the rules.
Two minutes after I arrived, we were instructed to line up by the start/finish line. Brooke, who was signed up for the run, lined up next to me. She was pretty confident in doing the run after jogging for the past couple weeks. I had no intention of keeping up with her, I just wanted to do my thing. Ya know? Someone fired the gun, which surprisingly didn't reactivate the butterflies who used to gnaw at my stomach during track. Good start. I kept the pace with Brooke as we weaved in and out of the streets of Enterprise - working our way to the dump road.
Hey, this isn't too bad. I'm feeling pretty excellent right now. As I started towards the steepest hill leading out of town, I decided to push on. I wasn't sure if Brooke and I were supposed to run together, but I for sure was going to run my best race at this point. No point in giving it little effort. My walk/run technique was starting to seem foolish. This is a beautiful day: no clouds in the sky, perfect temperature, slight breeze, shining sun. Go for it.
I pushed on, humbled by the different ages in the crowd: children, elderly, even those pushing strollers with twins. This is really cool. I passed my brother and his friend John Green (the water-hander-outers) and grabbed a cup. They laughed at my red, sweaty face. I decided to show 'em what's up, so I picked up my pace. They're not going to laugh when they see me the next time. Finally I made it to the turn-around point where my friend Erich was directing runners. He told me, "Hurry it up, you're at like 28 minutes." In my current state (a sweaty mess breathing like a freight train) I didn't really know if that was slow or if he was serious. I didn't really know anything except that I was now going to show both Erich and John/Niko that I wasn't inadequate. Push on.
I found myself approaching my sixth grade teacher, Colby Knifong. We ran and talked for a little while. Always great to catch up with her. "I want to have her spirit when I'm older," I told myself. "I don't want to lose my spontaneity and sense of adventure." I passed my brother and John once again. They looked surprised. "Whoaaaa, you are like tenth in the pack. There aren't that many people in front of you. Keep it up!" Excellent. Since my brother surpassed me in physical shape (to my dismay he is pretty ripped), I am usually the subject of jokes sarcastically directed at my "rock hard abs" and my weasel-like thighs (which in reality are showing a little love). But under that love lies muscles once belonging to a fierce Viking. I've never been much of a sprinter, but my ancestors did give me endurance.
I thought to myself, "What, there must be a mile left? Almost there. Let's go." I kicked it into my last gear. Whooooo, I'm going to feel this in the morning. But right now I feel absolutely wicked. Once I got to the road leading out to the hospital, my muscles started to tell me I was done. Not yet, I told them. I remembered a book my grandmother (Farmor) and dad used to read to me: The Little Engine that Could. "I think I can I think I can I think I can I think I can," I cooed to myself like my dad used to when we would go on long hikes. I could almost taste the rainbow flags. Yessssssss. "25, 26, 27, 28!" I crossed at around 28 minutes. I had no idea what that meant and how I did, but I was so happy to be done. And I seemed to be among the front of the pack. Wahooooo! So much for run/walk.
As the rest of the runners and walkers trickled in, we made our way to drink water and enjoy a light snack of fruit and assorted appetizers. Since Brooke and I are on CJD court, we were asked to talk about Tough Enough To Wear Pink night at the rodeo as well as pass out awards. Talking in front of people is getting so much easier. No more chill pills (I literally had to find homeopathic stress/anxiety relaxants during our speaking competition in the winter). The system for awards was pretty unorganized, but we eventually handed out all of the ribbons and announced the winners. Running is an amazing sport. I commend those who possess natural talent.
I had low expectations for the day, but was pleasantly surprised and excited by how much fun I had. Not only was there a brilliant turnout to support Breast Cancer screenings, but I had a blast! In addition, it turned out that if I had been signed up, I would have placed second in my age group - two minutes behind the winner (who happens to run every day and take the sport seriously). Pumped!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Eastern Oregon Livestock Show
Driving below the nearly cloudless sky in Union County in the retro Chief Joseph Days van (nicknamed “Bessie”), we were sure the weather would stay beautiful for the 104th annual Eastern Oregon Livestock Show. We should have realized good weather and EOLS was a contradiction. With Brinda Stanley, the 2011 Chief Joseph Days court chaperone in the cockpit, and Brooke Greenshields and me looking out the old-school, curtain-draped windows, we made our way to the Fairgrounds.
Unfortunately, the risk of equine herpes virus kept us from bringing our horses for the parade and run-ins. The Chief Joseph Days Inc. board members secured us a convertible for the parade. But our first duty was to attend the Queen’s Luncheon. Because EOLS hosted the rodeo, their court welcomes visiting courts and introduces or thanks anybody they so chose. We seated ourselves next to the Columbia County Ambassadors and this year’s Miss Rodeo Oregon, Mackenzie Carr, and her father. While enjoying our meal of pork and beans, we mingled with both groups: telling them about all the fun things to do in Wallowa County and asking about their experiences so far. Everyone seemed really excited to come to Joseph in July.
After the luncheon, we had time to kill before the parade. Both Brooke and I had friends showing FFA animals at the fair grounds. We decided to pay them a visit. Everyone seemed to gawk at our suede parade outfits. Geez, I guess we have to get used to the spotlight.
While we were socializing, ominous clouds crept their way over the city. Nonetheless, I was pumped because the car we were ride in was a ’68 baby blue, convertible Camaro. Not even the rain could dampen our excitement for that ride. Throughout the parade, we threw Chief Joseph Days lollipops - sometimes accidentally hitting the children - but overall we were pretty popular. Go figure.
Following the parade, we made our way to the rodeo grounds to watch the rodeo. Since we were not recognized with the other visiting courts in the run-ins, the announcer acknowledged us in the grandstands. Watching the run-ins was pretty tough; I ached to run my horse across the perfect track in front of so many people we knew. But our horses were safe at home, and we enjoyed watching the rodeo and distributing the CJD brochures.
Although we missed out on riding our horses, EOLS was still a great experience. The weather came around for the rodeo, and ironically, the best weather seemed to envelop our van on the way back to Wallowa County. Typical.
Although we missed out on riding our horses, EOLS was still a great experience. The weather came around for the rodeo, and ironically, the best weather seemed to envelop our van on the way back to Wallowa County. Typical.
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