Happy 4th of July! My Holiday Memories
July 5, 2008
I almost always try to create an image for each holiday. The cowboy is from a vintage photograph in my collection. I scanned in the photo and digitally pulled him out, added a flag image, some typography and altered my images. I chose the cowboy because he reminded me of how I spent my Independence Day as a child.
The 4th of July is kind of different for me. Our family wasn’t really into fireworks. We often spent time in Idaho visiting relatives during the Independence day week.
We used to visit both sets of grandparents. I especially remember visiting my grandparents on my mother’s side. We spent a lot of time with my maternal grandmother. My mother’s father was always missing the week of the 4th. He went to the rodeo every chance he could during that week.
I never really thought about my grandfather’s fascination with the rodeo until I was an adult. As an adult, I began to wonder about the dichotomy of my grandfather’s life and his love of the rodeo. Although some of my relatives had farms, my grandparents on my mother’s side worked in a potato processing plant. They lived in a small house with a small yard in a very small town. They never owned any animals larger than their pekingese, Ginger. The only things I remember them growing were petunias in their flower beds out front.
I often thought about my grandfather as I attended Independence Day Rodeos. I imagined he admired the cowboys much like many people admire great athletes. Maybe when he was younger he dreamed of roping calves while riding on a beautiful tall horse or maybe he preferred dreaming about bull riding. I really don’t know. I never thought of asking while he was alive. I’ve decided it doesn’t matter what drove him to attend the rodeo all week. I believe he went to the rodeo to dream and I’m happy that he, like me had dreams and he passed on a love of the rodeo to me.
I go to the rodeo almost every year. My favorite part of the rodeo is when they release all the horses after the bronc ride. I love to watch those wild horses run. To me that is what freedom looks like, beautiful and wild.
