I punched in America on the iPod and thought this will be good walking music...you know those good old classics. Have you ever listened to America? I mean really listened. Their songs are so stupid...I mean really..."Muskrat Love"...what in the H E Double Hockey Sticks is that song about? Must be the stupidest song ever written. But I heard "Lonely People" and that was a little better.
Then I heard "Horse With No Name", one of my all time favorite songs. Okay the lyrics aren't all that great...but it evokes such vivid pictures in my mind...not to mention some great memories. But this morning it made me think about the short walk I made yesterday.
Thursdays are hard days for me to get a walk in, let alone write. I get up early to meet with some of my buddies for breakfast and an opportunity to confess our vilest sins to another human being. But mostly we just talk about stuff...you know politics, marriage, kids, jobs...you know stuff. When women are not present, we actually talk and actually emote feelings...but hey thats another story.
So in the evening yesterday Tracey and I head for Portland, get some dinner, and park our car near the hospital. We take a short walk into the hospital and find the room of a good friend of mine who is having to be in said hospital. Let's just call him Bob....cause....thats his name. Bob is one of the toughest guys I know. He is a cowboy...like a for real from Texas kind of cowboy. I don't mean a John Travolta kind of cowboy, I mean a cowboy. He was a horse shoer for a long time and now he works in the steel mill...he is tough. So having to see Bob in a hospital is like going to one of those cheesy circuses and finding a proud lion caged up in a tiny little cage.
But we keep walking until we get to his room. Apparently they just brought him back from surgery so they were trying to get him all settled back in his room. So I expect to see this guy all groggy and goofy looking and all. No way...he looks like he just came back from a massage. He has just had his chest cut open to put some stints in and a battery jumper to keep his heart regulated, and yet he looks better than I did. He is a tough guy. He basically had a heart attack and didn't even know it...that's tough.
So after visiting a while and getting all the scoop, I'm holding his real man hand and praying for him, and I am realizing how vulnerable all of us really are. Here is the toughest guy I know having to be poked and probed, wires hanging off of him and out of him, sitting in a hospital bed in a nightgown with no back, and having to completely surrender to the doctors so they can do what is critical to keep Bob's heart beating. How fragile and tender we are when it is our life on the line. As tough as Bob is, he crumbles like a little girl when he thinks about his new grandson, or seeing his precious daughter, his beloved wife, and even his little weenie dog (what kind of cowboy dog is that?). Life is short, and though Bob will spend eternity with God, the thought of not seeing his family grow is too much. It makes a tough guy change his ways. It makes them succumb to backless nighties and jumper cables on their hearts.
Bob's been through a desert on a horse with no name...but now he is finding an open prairie with green grass and buffalo and elk a plenty, a great rifle, a pot of cowboy coffee, and his little weenie dog riding in the saddle bag. Yehaw!!!!! Cowboy Up Bob!
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