Ranch Versus Family
My Uncle Chike was a fascinating, fun-loving, mysterious curmudgeon.
From the first time we had an adult conversation by ourselves while he showed me around his office in Washington, D.C., his support for my aspirations never wavered.
He went out of his way to show off the fall colors of the Appalachians and his door was always open after he moved his family to Florida.
He even found his way to Montana, thrilled to see the ranch.
We compared adventures – he drove fast cars on dirt 2-tracks in Africa and I rode horses on narrow trails in the Bob Marshall Wilderness.
He shared stories of growing up on the family farm in Louisiana while I tried to describe what the bitter Montana wind feels like in my bones.
He loved his wife and kids and he loved me and my brothers.
His memorial service will be held in Louisiana on April 20.
Louisiana will be beautiful in April, with blooming flowers and warm, sunny days.
My cousins from the southern corners of the nation will be there.
By then, Montana might be emerging slowly from winter, boasting mild weather and sprigs of green grass.
Or a blizzard might dump blowing snow for four days, knock out electricity and bury everything in snowdrifts taller than my head.
It’s happened before.
April will be the tail end of my calving season and just prior to my lambing season.
It is risky to leave during calving.
A cow doesn’t project her need for help in the days before she calves.
If a problem comes up, it comes up quickly and needs a solution right now, not tomorrow.
Within two days, she could be dead.
I don’t have any extra cows or calves available to sacrifice.
So I am faced with a one-time chance to honor my uncle and reconnect with cousins I rarely see or take care of my responsibilities at the ranch.
Whenever I need to make a decision, I fall back on my top three priorities.
I need to keep my kids safe. My influence on this priority is wanning as they get older, but my son and daughter are my top concern.
Second, I take care of my livestock.
Third, I avoid getting hurt. Most of the time I’m successful.
I could probably talk my brother into watching my cows and hope that he won’t find a problem. I’ve leaned on him before and he knows what he is doing.
I would need a $1250 refundable plane ticket.
The hassle of flying increases every day, just as quickly as airline reliability declines.
I’ve faced delays and cancellations almost every time I’ve flown in the past three years.
Leaving the ranch for three days is too long right now, much less facing an extra day of delays.
Yet in the end, a person has her family.
Nothing else.
My cousins are all fascinating people with a variety of lifestyles, hobbies and stories to share.
I haven’t seen some of them since their mother died about 10 years ago when I attended her memorial service.
We all gathered in Louisiana in July.
Temperatures in Montana paralleled the Louisiana heat that year. I came home to flipped breakers on several of my freezers and $10,000 of thawed meat.
It wasn’t pretty.
Still, I love the memories of sharing stories with my cousins during that trip.
I rarely face a conflict about leaving --- my ranch is my sanctuary and I love all I do.
I’m not the only one.
Every day, ranchers bet their skills, management abilities and luck against the weather, funky equipment and unpredictable situations.
Still, I won’t gamble my cows away. I’ll stay home and be glad for this life.