In a little town in Wyoming
Where the prairie meets the sky
A long bunk house stands a’waitin’
It’s where old cowboys come to die.
There’s cottonwoods along the brook
And benches for smokin’ and yarnin’
I’m the old trail cook who rustles their chuck,
So I’m the first one up come morning.
Each Sunday I cooks up special grub
For that’s when the visitors come
They bring terbacky and fresh clean duds
For the old punchers sure need some.
Some of the men had never wed
Others lost wives along the way
Each one has his own story
Memories to saddle and ride each day.
Old Sam had a daughter, Jenny
And a son, Will, but they seldom came
Then one Sunday they both showed up
But things just waren’t the same.
Sam’s mind had takin’ to wandering
And he’d repeat himself line by line
By the time they left, it was clear to them
Their dad’s mind was in decline.
“This is why it’s hard to come see him,”
Said Jenny, walking out with her brother.
“He doesn’t quite know who we are
Sometimes he confuses me with Mother.”
Said Will, “I sometimes wonder
Whether our visits are just for show
What good does it do him to see us,
If we’re strangers he doesn’t even know?”
Well, I’d overheard their palavering
And said, “Thanks for coming today.
Could you stay for just a spell longer?”
Hoping they’d listen to what I had to say.
“Sam sure counts on your visits
It’s all he’s got to look forward to
But seeing the change in his condition
Must make it hard to know what to do.
Now, I stop by to see your dad,
Just about every day--
Of course since I’m already here
It’s really not out of my way.
When the trails in his mind confuse him
He needs someone who will care about
The man he is, not just the man he was.”
I was just lettin’ it all hang out.
Like calves balking before a new gate
They were about ready to cut and run
But they stood there, though squirming
And let me finish what I’d begun.
Seeing I had their full attention
This is what I said to them:
“It doesn’t matter if Sam knows me--
Just as long as I know him.”
Now both sister and brother was crying
And I was feeling kind of bad,
But they said, “Thank you for the reminder--
What matters most is that we know Dad.”
Then they drove away, and I reckoned
They’d be coming back again next week
And maybe they’d be glad they came,
Clearer in mind for what they’d seek.
Now if I can just find my fixins,
I might step out for a smoke or two.
Then it’s right back to the kitchen
Where there’s more cleaning up to do.
July 9, 2023
Garry Breland 