In search of John Wayne

My heroes have always been cowboys

And they still are it seems

Sadly in search of and one step ahead of

Themselves and their slow moving dreams 

-Willie Nelson

At the age of ten I first visited Texas and it snowed.  Actually, it was a rare southern blizzard but I didn't know that.  I had never seen snow before.  It wasn't as I had imagined Texas to be.  I think part of my childhood image of Texas involved the long dead John Wayne to come riding over the hill on a horse at sunset accompanied by lonely fiddle music provided by Charlie Daniels as a tumbleweed rolled by.  Needless to say I was surprised, but strangely not disappointed, and it became one of my dreams to live in Texas someday.  
I had many dreams.  I wanted to hitchhike across Europe.  I wanted to read all of Charles Dickens books.  I wanted to walk along the Freedom Trail.  I wanted to live farther from my parents than any of my brothers had before me for college.  (Technically speaking, only one of those dreams came true as my eldest brother's dorm was farther East than mine the entire time I was in college.)  That being said, I had one other crazy, fantastical, admittedly young-minded dream.  

   As some of you may recall I have a minor fascination with John Wayne.  I like him.  I've always liked him.  And not just because there are a frightening number of similarities between him and my grandfather.  My father, always the beacon of culture, raised me on such movies as McClintock, The Quiet Man, Donovan's Reef, Stagecoach, and my favorite, Hatari, films that featured a strong male lead, a protagonist with unconquerable morals, a gentleman, with a strong Irish temper and an odd propensity for spanking crazy women.  It didn't bother me.  (In fact it tempered my Mother's love for all Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby movies.)  My Father thought he was showing my brothers and I what real men looked like- military cowboys I think was the image he was going for.  Unbeknownst to him, he was really instilling in me a certain love of cowboys.  

    That being said, I must admit that when the opportunity finally came for me to move here I was scared, terrified really.  I finally had the chance to live one of my dreams... and I wasn't sure if I could do it.  Where my spirit failed me God intervened and pushed me out the door, quite literally.  And the promise of John Wayne awaited.  
   When people ask me why I moved away from California, and of all places, why did I choose Texas I usually smile and said that it was divine intervention.  It's true that since I was ten I felt called to live here- it only took ten years to succeed.  More than that though, I wanted to live here, in no small part because of my image of John Wayne.  I wanted to meet a real cowboy.  And I did.  And it was great.  And I may live and die happy because of that moment.  
   I'd like to say that most of my childish dreams I have outgrown, that I have more realistic expectations of my life now that I am "old" and not a child.  I'd like to say that I try to present myself as a mature young adult and that I no longer am defined by a whimsical, wandering spirit, but that would all be a lie.  As I tell my Mother frequently, at least two of my dreams have come true (well, maybe not the Charles Dickens one... I'm fairly certain that I've outgrown that one) and that is enough for now.  The rest will follow, but nothing will surpass the day I met my first John Wayne.  Even if I was too tongue tied to actually say anything, but as the Duke once said, "Courage is being scared out of your wits... and saddling up anyways."