Life on a Ranch

My coffee is hot and the house is quiet… sans the washer and dryer. I was on a bit of a laundry strike this past week; I managed to get the essentials clean but fell short on the rest. We’re in need of fresh towels—both bath and dish and, ever since Cooper started wearing Buck’s socks, they’re both starting to run short. So, the tumble of the dryer, along with some quiet country music are my background noise. And my view… well, there is no snow to be seen on the valley floor but, according to the forecast, it’s on its way. The snow line isn’t too far up on the mountains and according to Bert’s weather report from Anthony Lakes, there’s about 6 inches of fresh powder up at the ski hill. I’ve been sorting pictures lately and came across this one I'm sharing with you. It's one of my favorites—Cooper riding, in his Spiderman costume, getting a pep talk from Buck. The story behind the picture is that Cooper really wanted to swing that rope he’s holding, but due to safety concerns, he wasn’t being allowed to. Let’s just say, he was more confident than his skill level or his superhero costume might suggest. The look on his face is one of utter disappointment that his dad was putting a halt to his roping plans. When Cooper was little, he was obsessed with being a superhero. The obsession lasted about two solid years; he wore a superhero costume basically everywhere we went. At the time, we lived on the Anchor Bar - an hour and a half from the nearest grocery store. So, if he insisted on wearing a costume to town, I insisted he had to talk to the people who commented on it (and, believe me, there were a lot of commenters). Our social opportunities were somewhat limited, so this seemed like a good way to encourage him to practice the ol’ social skills. He didn’t love talking to people, but he did love being a superhero, so he reluctantly complied. (Now he’ll talk to just about anybody, so maybe my tactic worked?!). The costumes weren’t really designed to withstand ranch life. They had ripped out knees and struggling Velcro- his little back and shoulders were often exposed while the top of his costume struggled to stay up. If we happened to be out-and-about and he found himself costume-less, he would make-do by creating a cape out of anything he could find. He used towels, shirts, wild-rags, anything he could “tie and fly” with! As he got a little older, he started to understand the idea that superheroes weren’t always in costume—their powers were often hidden in plain sight. So, he’d ask, “Mom, what’s your superpower?” And if you don’t already know this, technically, I have two. Mosquitos don’t bite me and onions don’t make me cry. I guess neither of those things do much for anyone else (unless you need someone to irrigate or you need someone to slice an onion). One time, on a very long day of moving cows in the canyons, Cooper was riding our tried-and-true, honest-as-the-day-is-long mare, Rose. He asked what I thought Rose’s superpower was. I didn’t hesitate, “That’s easy. Taking care of you, buddy.” And I absolutely believed that. He's long since let the costumes go, but Cooper still en joys a good superhero movie. In fact, he and I recently spent an evening watching “The Amazing Spiderman”. And even though the costume wearing stage is over, that was a really memorable season of his toddler and pre-school life. And ultimately, because of our many long discussions about hidden superpowers, I’ve come to realize I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by superheroes. Every year in June and again in August, a whole bunch of them show up to the Eastern Oregon Livestock Show and then the County fair. They show up to monetarily support the 4-H and FFA kids at the tail end of a week where a crew of volunteer superheroes took time off work, not to vacation, but to make those events happen. As an RN, every job I’ve ever had has been full of super heroes. These names might not mean as much to you as they do to me, but Wendy George, Tasha Plew, Dr. Renee Grandi, Dr. Devee Boyd were among the first set of superheroes I was privileged to work with. They taught me and supported me as we believed in each other and the work we were doing. At a tiny hospital in Eastern Oregon, we managed to have an impact on the rural families we took care of, families that provided me with memories I’ll carry with me forever. Seven (and a half!) years ago, when I showed up to my cur rent job in home visiting, Melanie Yeates had already been there 20 years. No costume or cape to show for it, but her unconditional love and genuine care for the moms and babies we visit is hands down at an unprecedented superhero level. And along the lines of medical situations, during the past year, I’ve seen some remarkable heroes in action. The surgeon who meticulously fixed Lucy's knee, but also cared and listened, all with grace for our girl - I'm endeared to forever. The teachers, friends, coaches, and athletic directors who still believed in her, even more than she herself did- they’re the really, really good stuff. The confidante who has listened to my maternal woes and never turned down an opportunity to hash out my list of concerns… no doubt, she has a hidden cape of kindness. I can't help but think about our teenagers and how the current teen cell phone trends aren’t without superheroes. As adults, we can’t quite reconcile their social life to our own, but I’m convinced that teenagers are using opportunities to look out for each other in ways we don’t even realize. What might appear to be a “like” or a "comment" or a "snap” to us might just be a superhero who uses “another snap” to remind our teen, “I’m still here. And you’re not alone.” It seems to me there’s a lot of division in our country and in our world right now. The news and world events can be unsettling and discouraging. Heck, normal life can be discouraging. But the amazing part of this whole superhero thing is that these people aren’t unique to my life. They’re walking around the streets of everywhere. I could move one county over, or one state over, or to the other side of the country, and I’m confident I’d find more of them. They’re filling our schools and our hospitals and our ranches and our farms and our libraries and our grocery stores. And all you have to do is learn to look for them. ~Chelsea