Peaks and Valleys

"Lindsay, listen. Listen to me," Cody said as he put his hands on my shoulders and tried to make eye contact with me under the bright moon in our backyard. "Life is made of peaks and valleys. We've been on a pretty high mountain for a long while now. This, this tonight, this is a valley. And we'll be ok. Together, we'll get out of it. This is life." He put his arms around me. My tears soaked his shirt. 

When Cody was 24 he packed up life as he knew it and moved 952 miles northeast. He didn't have family there, or good friends, but he had just accepted a job that would lead him from Stillwater, Oklahoma to East Lansing, Michigan. He got an Australian Shepherd puppy named Birdie and within one another they found trust, companionship and sheer joy in working cattle together. Birdie became a popular character at the MSU beef barn; everyone who knew the farm, knew good 'ol Birdie. Cody and Birdie faithfully - and with great fun - navigated eight years of bachelor life at Michigan State University.

 

Cody and Birdie on our wedding day

When I was 24 I started a journey of my own as I moved back to Indiana from Washington D.C., bought a house in the valley of Greens Fork and found a pup I named Dixie to accompany me in the cozy little home. We would visit BSG daily and I would carry her in the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Dixie grew to be more faithful than she was obedient. She made messes and ran wild, but her friendly spirit and gentle heart were contagious. There was a time when I say with confidence that Dixie loved me more than I loved myself. What an incredibly patient companion to a young, single gal finding her way in the world. 

From the age of 24 on, these two dogs have been an incredibly significant part of Cody and I's lives. When friends, jobs, relationships and time came and went, Birdie and Dixie remained a constant for each of us. 

Since we met, Birdie and Dixie have gone from acting like 14-year-old resentful step-sisters

to daily playmates. Yes, they're both having fun here. 

 And here, they're in timeout for nearly breaking a lamp. 

"If you have a dog, you will most likely outlive it; 

to get a dog is to open yourself to profound joy and, prospectively, 

to equally profound sadness." 

Marjorie Garber

Last night within minutes we lost both faithful pups, Birdie and Dixie, right in front of our house. Cody and I were able to stroke their ears, say goodbye and hold them in our arms along the roadside as they passed from one exciting life to the next. He and I have never known such a helpless, heart wrenching feeling.

Remember: Life, as Cody told me last night, is made of peaks and valleys. We get out of one to move on to the other. Always.

Birdie and Dixie spent most of their time together in Greens Fork, a tiny town nestled between two hills along the river. Quite often in this valley they chased the same squirrel, fought for the same piece of brisket and brought peace and familiarity to two newlyweds entering a whole new world together. They were playful and funny and really good dogs.

And at 7:00 this morning, instead of posting a blog as I have done consistently for over three years, Cody, Momma and I laid those pups to rest on top of the greatest peak we could find. Forever, they now rest under the beloved Growing Tree.

And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard

So now Cody and I work through this valley and 

with broken hearts we'll move on with our lives. 

We say farewell to our best animal friends, may they enjoy the greatest peak.

And dammit, I sure hope they realize there is more than one ham bone in heaven.

Why I Don't Do Drugs

Monday morning at 6:10 Cody and I loaded into my Escapé (that's French for Escape) and headed to the hospital where I was having a procedure done.
Nothing to worry about. 
Seriously. 
I'm healthy as an ox but have a throat like a chicken. It's genetic. 

By 6:50 AM they had me on a gurney and were giving me oxygen. Then, they told me they were giving me something that may make me sleepy. 

Understatement of the year. 

The following is just a brief glimpse of the hours that followed, as told by Cody Sankey, my patient, kind fiancé. I've cut his stories down to about half, for the sake of my reputation. Of all that is to follow, there is only one moment that I remember: the elves. 

When they wheeled me back to my room the first thing I announced to the floor was that I wanted an elephant ear. No, I needed an elephant ear. Fried, sugary, fair food goodness: not too far off from reality. Cody lied to me and told me we would get one when we left. I believed him. Thirty seconds later I forgot my own request. 

"You know what I gotta do when I get home?" I asked Cody, serious Lindsay snapping right to it. 
"What Linds?"
"I gotta cut Dixie's tail off. Right off!" I announced, finger scissors cutting across the air. 
"Linds, I don't think you need to cut Dixie's tail off. She's too old for that now."
"Well, Cody," I talked to him as though I was a real veterinarian, putting my hands in front of me to convince. "That's an awfully big decision for such a little dog to make, so I'm making it for her." 

Dixie, I'm sorry. But, I really do get annoyed when your tail knocks over my wine on the coffee table. 

Then, according to Cody, the tears came. And note, there are few things I dislike more than dramatic girls.
Big, loud, sobbing tears - out of no where. 
"Elves! There are elves in my watch!" I screamed. And I sincerely remember this part; I remember looking down at my wrist where my 10th birthday present once rested - a Mickey Mouse watch with a red leather band. But in the face, where Mickey once was, were 1,000 tiny little elves and they were screaming to get out! 

They scared me...and I scared everyone one around.
Cody jumped up to console me and the nurses rushed to my side; I begged them to get the elves out of my watch. They grabbed both wrists and proved to me that I didn't even have on a watch. But I could see it - and the elves! - plain as day. 

Some time passed and a drive home from town took place as well as a McDonald's run. Those are details for neither here or there...
Wedding is still on even after another meltdown because McDonald's didn't have pineapple mango smoothies. Thank goodness that Cody has the patience of his father. 

Thirty minutes later and Cody was cleaning the McSmoothie off of my chin and escorting me out of the Escapé and into my house. Two eager, happy pups met us at the door. Rather than greeting them as cheerfully as they greeted me, like a hawk I reached down and try to yank poor Dixie's  tail right out of her body. 
I don't know why; I'm just glad she's even my friend today.
That's the beauty of a pup like Dixie; no matter the day, she is always going to love me more than I love myself. 

And if it's the hours when her owner is all hopped up on "Truth Serum" - as the doctor labeled it, due to it's ability to make all patients speak only the truth - those are some miserable hours for a little black mutt. 

Cody got me back to my bedroom and took off my shoes. For another forty-five minutes he consoled me and answered questions he didn't know the answers to. He watched me to make sure I didn't choke on my tongue or a coat hanger. 

Birdie and Dixie came back to visit. 

"We gotta get Birdie's tail off, too!" I announced. 
"No, Linds, Bird's tail came off when she was just a baby. All she as left is a nub."
Apparently I got more serious than anyone should ever get when discussing this. I cut Cody a look, "Well you get me a pair of channel locks and I bet I can get that nub off! Just get me the channel locks!" I demanded.

+ 1 for creative use of tools 
- 100 for even thinking in a drugged state that poor old Bird's tail needed removed, too. 

In the best interest of all parties involved, Cody escorted both pups to the front of the house and turned on ESPN so they could chase baseballs across the screen. Not always the best fun, but far better than a home tail removal demonstration. 

Cody came back to my room to find me on my phone.  I had called brother Luke (or he called me? Details quite fuzzy) and invited him down for Dixie's tail cutting, as though I was inviting him to a pitch-in or something. Immediately my phone was confiscated and not released again until around 8:00 PM Monday night. 

Over the span of time I removed classic livestock prints off of my walls because I "hated the Grand Canyon" (never been there, would love to go) and even let Cody know I'd meet him in Alaska for our honeymoon because I was going to ride a donkey up there. 

Even the Truth Serum can't cover up the fact that I love the scenic route to anywhere. 

"Donkey rides aren't so bad," I told Cody. "Mary and Joseph rode a donkey places."
"Yeah Linds, they did," Cody responded, exhausted after dealing with a 3-year-old since 7:00 AM. 
"But now people haul donkeys in trailers. Wait. Maybe they hauled baby Jesus in a stock trailer, Cody?"
"I don't know, Linds, I think you should probably call it quits for a while, all this thinking," he tried to convince/beg me. 
I paid no mind. 
"It would be like showing up to a stock show with baby Jesus in your trailer!!" I screamed, elated at the thought! I sat right up in bed. 
"Do you know Jesus?" I asked Cody, dead serious.
"Yeah, I know Jesus," he replied.
"He's a pretty goooooooooood guy," a drew it out as I laid back down in bed. 

Cody took my glasses off of me and pulled the sheet up. He realized little Dixie had snuck back into the room and had crawled under my bed; the thumping of her tail gave her away. So Cody got down on his hands and knees and begged Dixie to come out; he did not trust her sleeping alone with me in the same room - even in broad daylight. 

Dixie reveled herself then pranced down the hallway. The noise awoke the sleeping, high-as-a-kite bear. 

"What are you doing in here?!" I yelled at Cody. 
"Just making sure you're OK, Linds" he calmly replied. 
"Well," I said, full of ungratefulness and very as-a-matter-of-factly, "I think you're creepy watching me like this!"
Cody was so, so patient. "I just want to make sure you're OK, Linds, just go to sleep."
Since the age of two, telling me to sleep rarely works; I popped up out of bed:
"Whatdya think I'm gonna do, blow this place up?!!?" I threw my arms to the heavens. 

WHAM!!

Cody recalls that my head hit the pillow like a ton of bricks. Eyes shut. Mouth open. Snoring within seconds. 

He checked on me every thirty minutes but said I didn't move for three hours. 
Almost an entire day of my life completely unaccounted for in my memory due to a few CCs of Truth Serum. 

It made me realize why in 28 years I've never touched a drug, or was never invited to the parties where that kind of stuff took place. Maybe everyone knew I'd be the idiot talking about elves in my watch and hauling baby Jesus around in a stock trailer. 

Long story longer, it's like a really good thing for me that Cody is locked into this "forever" deal. At least he knows what he's getting into? It was like a small marriage counseling session wrapped up......into 12 hours.

Lesson for the day: 

Let this be a reminder. 

Two Hours With Temple

I don't know why or how, but for some reason I've had the opportunity to spend time with incredibly special people. Whether you recognize their names or not, each one of these folks have given me timeless advice that I keep close in my mind's library, just between the sarcastic jokes and the content I am compelled to pass on. Part of it has been along the lines of "get a life, kid" while others offer more substantial words that I keep, write down and  look at daily. Thanks, by the way, to people like Doug. 

You may not ever recognize their names, but I hope you understand their lessons. 

To my knowledge, I have never had the opportunity to spend time with anyone with autism, until I had the chance to do so with Wilt and the Animals For Life Foundation last week. As I looked forward to working with Dr. Temple Grandin, I say with confidence that I was flat out nervous. 

And for good reason. I was about to spend a morning, one-to-one, with world-renowned animal handling pioneer and subject of a movie, Dr. Temple Grandin. A professor of animal sciences at Colorado State University, and a specialist in livestock handling and animal facility design. In fact, half of the cattle in the United States and Canada are handled in facilities designed by Grandin, and she has offered animal welfare consultation to companies such as McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Burger King.

But, Grandin’s remarkable achievements are underscored by an amazing success story. She was born a severely autistic child, and by the age of two she could not speak. Years of speech therapy helped her to overcome her disabilities, and encouragement from a high school teacher led her to pursue a career in animal science.

That lead her to the crossing of my tiny path. 

I walk a fine line in disclosing the lessons and releasing the moments. 
As is life. Remember that. 
I had a time taking notes, for as much as Dr. Grandin told me during breakfast and in my little Ford Escape. In fact, somewhere on I-270 around Columbus, Ohio she scolded me for texting and driving. Fair enough. Her lessons were brief and pointed. 

Nonetheless, I share a few brief lessons from Dr. Grandin's raw, weathered hands and mind.

Today, we are a population completely away from anything practical. 
We don't understand how our food reaches our table. In school we have no sewing. No woodworking. No home economics. We are masters of No Trade. We have no idea how to balance a budget or mend clothing or even console our children. We cannot coach our own children through life because we don't have a really good grasp at what is going on. That is troublesome. We spend our money on things that only serve ourselves: clothing, appearances, entertainment. How do those things improve life for the next generation? How selfish are we? 

We can not let bad become normal. 
This is everywhere. The way we raise our livestock. The way we present ourselves in public. The way we speak to one another. The way we dress our daughters and sons. 
We have become lazy - LAZY - and that is not good. The bad way of addressing  many things has become the normal. When we let the bad replace normal, we're all in a really poor place. 

There is no worse feeling than visiting your childhood home and finding that your "kite flying field" has become a subdivision. 
Remember it. The house. The field. How the sky looks just before sunset. And even better, just before sunrise. Visit home. Even if it changes. Remember the land. The slope of the hill. That is the landscape of your life; the very first scene of your story. 

Exercise. 
Your mind. Your body. Dr. Grandin asked me what sports I participated in to keep my body active. Nothing like telling this lady that I've not played sports since high school...Stay active. 

Never quit challenging yourself. 
The best days of Dr. Grandin's career have not been staring into the open skies of the west or even the board rooms of Washington, DC. Her most rewarding days have been spent onsite in the trailers "with the guys" trying to determine how to construct an animal handling project. A few of her favorite moments now are flying into/out of the Denver airport and visualizing how she would utilize the equipment on the site. Find a better way to do things. 

Don't question your abilities. 
Dr. Grandin recalled being told by a counselor that her calling was to work in animal behavior. "Of all the things," she laughed, "animal behavior. I remember being told that. Being told that I would go into animal behavior. But I worked with it." 

And the greatest thing Dr. Grandin taught me:
No one cares about your circumstances. 
Blaze your own damn trail. 

And the Cup Continues to Run Over...

Some time ago I mentioned in a blog the kind of unique responses I've received when simply asking folks, "What brought you here?";  It was then that I was able to learn about a life path, a route, a history. 

Recently I presented a new question to several people to and had no idea the response I'd get. 

Turns out, people like to share. And for that I'm thankful.

Today I continue (see yesterday's post for more!) to share with you the incredible responses received when I asked people this question: 

In this life, what is something you truly know?

I know that if your barn doesn't have a basketball goal attached to it, you're not American.

I know when a child is born - so is a Mother.

I know there is nothing better than a good drink - a few marshmallows from the showbox - and a barn full of hogs to listen to your troubles.

I know there is  no greater blessing than being married to a good man.

I know you don’t know your own strength until you are tested.

I know that the drink 'skip and go naked' mixed with moonshine makes for a damn good night but a rough morning.

I know it’s alright to cry at commercials.

I know that there are few things more gratifying than a freshly mowed yard. 

I know there is no sweeter sound then the laugh of a child.

I know you can be lonely even in a room full of people.

I know when in an argument, it’s always best to take the high road.

I know to never trust ANYONE when they tell you the electric fence is shut off. Always check for yourself.

I know it’s best to kill your enemies with kindness, not weapons or words.

I know some of your best memories will come from ordinary days.

I know presentation is important when serving food.

I know that my cows distinctively know when I go on vacation. It’s then that they make their great escape. 

I know it’s never a good idea to leave the house in your pajamas.

I truly know that people generally mean well.

I know that swinging in the sunshine may just be a little slice of heaven....but only until your butt goes numb.

I know it’s never smart to turn down a breath mint.

I know that Shorthorns consistently marble better than Angus, but supply and marketing is something to compete with. 

I know it’s important to hydrate all day before drinking all night.

I know if you ask a question, it’s important to listen to the answer.

I know that you’ll never come back from Copperhead Road. Steve Earl said so. 

I know that knowledge is power.

I know that there is something about sitting on a showbox that makes you fall in love. 

I know that nothing matches the bond between sisters.

I know that if you can’t take a piss in your own back yard, your neighbors live too close.

I know that I am saying the same things to my daughter that my momma said to me.

I know that God made dirt and dirt don't hurt.

I know I can run faster scared than the other guy can run pissed off.

I know that you should never agree to go out with your friends and say, “Ok, but just for one...”

I know I will always regret it if I do not proof read.

I know that I will never trust a man wearing skinny jeans. 

I know there are no “for sures” in this world, so thank God when things go well and pray for guidance when they don't.

I know  fat rolls on baby's legs are adorable, but rolls on mom's legs . . . not so hot.

I know I have yet to find a good way to cook a brussel sprout.

I know you have to be from a dirt road to appreciate one.

I know that you never “catch up” on sleep.

I know that there is nothing like your own back yard. 

I know that regardless of how much I try to be someone else, my true self has always overshadowed that facade.

I know that the music of the 80's was much better than what we're listening to now.

I know that I never get tired of hearing these 3 words, I Love You, Job well done, and I admire you.

I know you can never get to the beach fast enough.

I know for certain that "sorry" doesn't always make it go away.  Sometimes it takes a little more than "I'm sorry" to heal the damage of hurtful words.

I know, simply put, that prayer works. 

I know that a man who can make a woman laugh has a major advantage over those who can’t. 

I know that there are few things more comforting than the sweetness and love of a mother.

I know that eating all of the chocolate chip cookie dough out of the ice cream container is clearly wrong and unfair for the next person, but oh so good and right for me.

I know that God is my Savior and His unconditional love for me is completely undeserved, but completely perfect.  

I know that if you’re older than 22 and have a bar stamp on your hand come Monday, you need to get a life. 

I know that the small town, country life will always be more adventurous and satisfying than any city in this world.

I know you can't really curl up with a good Kindle.

I know that I married the man that God intended me to marry. 

I know that regrets make me who I am, but will never define me.

I know that I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

I know that attitude determines altitude. 

I know that friends come and go - but family, they’re forever.

I know that I will regret the things I haven’t done, more than those I have. 

I know that people that can't operate a cell phone should not use the self-checkout at the grocery store.

I know that you should always take up the opportunity to listen to a story told by an old person.

I know that it is a waste of time to argue with my wife because she’s always going to win the argument anyway, although it would be nice if she let me at least think that I won once in awhile. 

I know that people make mistakes. And they learn, too. 

If you see smoke coming out from a door, you know there is a fire. So don’t open the door.

I know that awesome big sisters turn out to make really incredible mothers. 

I know that going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in

a garage makes you a car.

I know that it’s better to have too much than not enough.

I know spending time with my grandpa and listening to stories about the past is priceless.

I know that athleticism fades and the high school nerds make better husbands than the jocks. 

I know that no matter how much low-fat ranch or diet coke I consume, my thighs will always touch. Always.  

I know there is nothing more beautiful than the Nebraska Sandhills in spring.

I also know that time spent in a the barn is good for the soul.

I know that clean sheets bring better sleep.

I know that the bull has to spend time with his girlfriends in the field if you want baby calves. 

I know there are two things you never skimp on: shoes and mattresses.

I know that every family has “that” family member. 

I know, for a fact, that good chips and salsa will fix the most terrible of days.

I know that its possible to make a dozen hamburgers out of one pound of meat....(thanks to grandma).

I know that if you are complaining about a situation, chances are you are not willing to be part of the solution. 

I know that in the world of livestock showmanship, forgetting to shut the gate in Senior showmanship your last time out of the pen will NOT get you 1st place.

I know that there are few things that freak me out more than seeing Tim McGraw or Kenny Chesney with out a hat on.

I know that I still hold a grudge against the kid on the playground who told me about Santa.

I know your children will continue to amaze you no matter how old they are.

Come sit a spell with Jean's Boots tomorrow, because I know that the best is yet to come...