When Wooden is Golden

 

Elders Remembered

When Wooden is Golden

Stewardship is Essential

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

             The recent days have been a labor of delayed intention.

            Every ranch has an assortment of accumulated junk. It is pipe from windmill and pump work. It is material from current and past fence jobs. It is a collection of generators without starter ropes, seized engines, and missing parts. It is that assortment of good deals hauled home from Dickerson auctions. It is salvaged fuel and propane tanks, and pieces of precast concrete piping. It is ancient pump jacks, well casing, windmill towers and wrecked mills, split rims, salvaged bridge decks, old gates, and scores of other treasures.

            In someone’s mind, living and or now deceased, it had value and utility.

            The piles have grown in absence of organization. It was time to deal with it all so Pepe and I have been consolidating and organizing the bone yard this week. Slowly, order is emerging from the chaos of years of haste and neglect to a semblance of useable inventory.

            The stack of salvaged barnwood would now make a current day remodeler smile. The strapped sheets of strong barn metal next to it would make that smile even wider. The bridge decking next to that is going to make the floor of a new loading chute special especially when we shoot the finished structure with used oil. The pipe rack is accessible and loaded, the trough components are ready to be converted to use, someone is going to find the windmills and pump jacks added novelty and attraction for repurposed use, the heavy beams and bridge timbers are spectacular, and Pepe’s firewood stack is projected to be adequate for years (not months) of future supply.

            Whew … this old stuff is pretty neat!

            Elders Remembered

            I saw Jerry’s grandson at the feed store as the protein tubs were being loaded in the old iron horse.

            He’s enrolled down here at NMSU and working there at Landmark for Jason to make ends meet. He’s a big, strapping good looking ranch kid.

As I was getting ready to leave, I told him of the memory of the last time I saw his grandfather. We had both placed our names on the roster of another drought workshop. The hour to start had come and gone and, finally, the moderator stepped to the podium, dimmed the lights, and started his welcome with his power point presentation. From the back of the room, a disruption broke out as an obvious big older fellow made his way into the darkened room and was trying to find his way to a seat.

Oops, oops … pardon me.

As he came closer, I recognized who it was and decided he needed some help. I went to him to save him from further calamity. I took hold of his arm and guided him to a seat next to mine.

Who is this that has a’hold of me?

I told him in a much lower voice.

Who?

In yet a bit more volume, I told him again.

Albert’s grandson … Well, how in the world are you?

By this time, every head in the room including the moderator was turned to the continued distraction. The proceedings had momentarily halted.

You know, He was my friend. He was my mentor.

With starts and stops, the proceedings continued as Jerry would consider another long-ago memory more important than the science-based update coming from the bottom of the well at the podium.

Yes, sir, he taught me a lot. I sure did think a lot of him.

Stewardship is Essential

The suggestion that 98% of mass shooters have no father figure or, at best, a dad deprived figure in their lives is staggering.

The data suggests that boys (because mass shooters are without exception boys) who hurt us tend to be hurt boys themselves. In fact, implicit in the whole gruesome detail of mass shooters are four common denominators. They are boys, they are categorically hurt boys, they are dad deprived, and they are in possession of guns.

Those are the facts.

Unlike the prevailing suggestion of blame, however, guns aren’t and have never been the prevailing culprit. With rare to nonexistent exceptions, they are the tool, the outcome of dread, when the dad figures are absent, corrupted, worthless, or flawed. There are too many examples to the contrary especially to those of us who grew up with grandfathers, fathers, uncles, and golden mentors who taught us from the get-go there are things that are to be respected without debate or concession.

There are absolutes in our existence, and guns are a best example.

There is also a big world that has grown apart from any such notion.

It, too, has four common denominators. It is matrilineal elevated, there are categorically disoriented boys, there is dad deprivation, and there is an absent of guns and, more importantly, gun absolutes. The only common feature is dad deprivation.

Should that be a surprise?

When Wooden is Golden

There is merit in cleaning up and reorganizing bone yards.

It is a history lesson of sorts that identifies the evolution of our business. It is a recapitulation of the continuum that forms a proxy for much of life. There is heavy lifting. There are decisions to be made. There is a degree of dirt in everything you do and everything you touch. There are surprises. The machines that have come to be part of our lives make the process much easier. There are times when trash needs to be eliminated, and there are times when the old should be reintroduced into our discussions, our use, and our ongoing practices.

Things should be saved and elevated back into our lives. It is kind of like old friends and those wonderful men who populated our lives and introduced us to standards and promises that are eternal.

Save that old wood, and … elevate those worthy elders.

 

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico.