Bert Gildart: Writer and Photographer

©Bert Gildart: Here in Grants, New Mexico, we’re discovering that at Blue Spruce Campground we’re meeting the salt of the earth, and learning that, as usual, virtually all are the nicest people in the world.  (Also read: Farmer’s Advice) In this case Janie met a “drifting rodeo cowboy,” and later related the story to me of her most  “intimate relationship,” which developed immediately.

Janie was washing clothes in the campground’s laundry when she overhead the conversation between the owner and the cowboy. The cowboy, whose name we later learned was James, was asking about campground rates, saying he was from Tennessee but would be returning in several months for an extended tour at the hospital and would be driving an RV.

“I’ve been doing a lot of stitching,” said the cowboy, to which the owner responded after sizing him up, “Oh, you mean on clothing?”

“No, responded,” Cowboy James. “In the ER.”

That’s when Janie piped in. “Are you a doctor?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “I’m a nurse… See,” he laughed, “I’ve got my knife right here.” He then asked why she wanted to know?

Janie then  told him about some recent surgery on her arm and how she needed to have the stitches removed. “You could do it yourself,” he said, and when Janie said “No way,” he said, “Well, I could do it.”

Next thing I knew Janie opened the door to our Airstream and introduced me to Cowboy James, who was attired in a bandanna, tall black hat, blue jeans, denim shirt, and down-at-the-heel boots.

“He’s going to take my stitches out,” exclaimed Janie. The cowboy then asked Janie if she had any rubbing alcohol, which we didn’t, so he said, “Mouth wash will work just fine.” Then he set out to work with a pair of  scissors from our kitchen drawer, informing Janie that if she fainted he’d give mouth to mouth resuscitation, but would first  have to take out his false teeth (lost in a rodeo) and his chaw of snuff.

“Can’t do that,” he said.

“Oh my god, “ said Janie, “I won’t faint.”

Cowboy James stayed around after removing the stitches and as our visit with him progressed we learned he tuned into some of the very same sources of entertainment that we did. He loved Baxter Black, whose humorous commentaries about western life can be heard each Saturday morning on Public Radio. James said he’d like to be Baxter Black. We exchanged cards and told him we hoped we’d see him again.

As I say, we meet the nicest people in trailer parks and my only regret is that I didn’t take a photo of him “at work.” With his long handle-bar mustache, Stetson hat and Tony Lama Boots he made quite a figure.  Most importantly,  he kept the residuals of snooce in his mouth the entire time he was in our Airstream.

 

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Snowy Owls are Ghost of the North

*Plus — Global Warming and an animal that does hibernate, the marmot

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 8th, 2009 at 7:54 am and is filed under National Lands, Photography, Trailer Trash. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.