Fancy Horse

Rodeo!!  Just the word sends a thrill through me!  The sights:  pickup trucks and trailers, cowboys in fancy chaps, horses that know their job, cowgirls in their pearl button finest, clowns with painted faces and fast shoes.   The sounds:  the clang of the metal gates, the bellowing of the bulls, the roar and reactions of the crowd.   The smells:  horse sweat, manure, hot dogs, popcorn and dust.

If you’ve never been to one, you’re in for a real treat.  If you grew up going to them, and maybe still go to them, you’ll get a kick out of the Dubois Friday night rodeo.  It is authentic.  All of the sights, sounds and smells that are ingrained in my memories from rodeos of my youth are all there, alive and well in Dubois.  Now, it’s not a PRCA sanctioned rodeo, so you’ll not see the NFR contenders.  (If you don’t know what those acronyms mean, it won’t matter to you anyway!)  But you will see cowboys and cowgirls from the surrounding area competing as if they were at the Cheyenne Frontier Days rodeo.

In a Dress No Less!

Goin' For It!

Rodeo is generally thought to be a guy’s sport.  Girls tend to be relegated to roles such as stampede queen, mounted drill teams, or for the extremely competitive, barrel racing.  Some rodeos will also have goat tying or other roping events that are sort of the equivalent of the pushups they have girls do in school so we could do as many as the boys.  When rodeo first started out west, there were lady bronc riders.  They were a rough and tumble group of gals; I doubt I could hold a candle to them.  There were also lady trick riders who performed many death defying feats on horseback.  I do those same tricks on occasion, but never on purpose.  So, I like to think that, we ladies simply wised up.  Why compete with the guys, when we had an opportunity to show our stuff and look stylish at the same time?

That brings me to the ribbon pull competition.  We never had this back home when I was growing up.  So, the morning that Gretchen latched on to me at breakfast and took me to the kitchen and proposed that I team up with Katie and Hannah for the ribbon pull event, I said sure, thinking, how hard could such a delicately named event be?  Before I knew what it was, I roped Robyn into this too.  We both whole heartedly said yes, feeling honored to be invited to the party!  As the day went on however, and the details of the ribbon pull event were revealed, we both paused to ask ourselves what the heck we had gotten into this time.  But, recall that Robyn is very competitive, and rose to the occasion.

Practicing with Ropes on Spring Mountain

That day, we had a day long ride up to Spring Mountain and I took the opportunity to quiz Mark about helpful hints that would enable Robyn and me to survive, if not win the event at the rodeo that night.  His main advice was this:  “Wrap the rope around your butt to hold the calf”.  OK.  Makes sense.  I cogitated on this advice for the rest of the afternoon and having dealt with cattle over the years, began to wonder about a few things, namely rope burn on a delicate body part.  I mentioned my concern to Mark over dinner that night and he gave me the second most valuable piece of advice:  “If your butt starts to smoke, let go of the rope.”  OK.  Another good tip.

Robyn and I traveled to Dubois in the ranch van with our teams.  During the ride we discussed various strategies.  For some of the girls, this was not their first rodeo as regarded competing in the ribbon pull.  I was feeling better about our chances…at winning and survival.  Robyn was beginning to feel a tad nauseous.  To be Continued….

The Eastern Shoshone called the Wind River Basin home, although they were a nomadic people.  In the 1700s, horses came into their lives, and along with the others such as the Arapahoe, Sioux and Crow they came to prize their horses. In fact, among the Shoshones, ownership of horses determined your standing in the tribe.  They often conducted raids on other area tribes for purposes of stealing horses, which made them mortal enemies of the Crow in particular.

The Crow lived in the surrounding area of the Yellowstone River and the Big Horn basin.

Crow War Party

So, now back to the T Cross.  One day on a ride up to Boedeker Butte with Ken and Garey Neal, we took a little side jaunt into a densely wooded area.  Mr. Neal pointed out a good number of stumps that had quite obviously been crudely chopped at about 4-5 feet from the ground.  He told us the story of the Shoshone hunting party that had run into a raiding party of Crow Indians.

Shoshone Hunting Party

The Shoshone worked their way up to this high ground and hid themselves in the woods.  There, they played the waiting game with the Crow party who stayed down below, nice and cozy in the valley waiting for them to give up.  The Shoshone used their tomahawks and chopped the trees down to get the nuts from these White Bark Pine which were too limber to climb. That explains why there are so many chop marks!  Being there among the new growth trees with these ancient stumps sticking up here and there, it was easy to imagine the hunting party trying to survive on what game they could find close by, eating nuts and wishing to heck those danged Crow would give up and go home!

We don’t know how the story ended…whether the Crow finally moved on, or whether they flushed out the Shoshone and killed them, taking their horses.  When you visit, you can imagine your own ending.  History tells us that eventually, the Shoshone did win the day.

Chief Washakie

Washakie went on to negotiate a deal with the government which granted them 2.2 million acres of their Wind River tribal lands as their reservation.  Home to 2,650 Eastern Shoshone today, it is the burial place of both Washakie and Sacajawea.  Another interesting place to visit while you’re heading to the T Cross!

 The T Cross is well equipped for weather.  They have several racks loaded with yellow rain slickers so you don’t need to worry about packing one!  My first trip to T Cross, I had selected my slicker and was walking back outside when Mark stopped me and said “Why’d you pick the yellow one?”  That stumped me for a minute and then I realized he was just having some fun with a new dudette.  I smartly replied that I had chosen yellow because it reminded me of sunshine which I was hoping we had plenty of that week!

One trip we experienced nearly every weather event absent a hurricane or a tornado.  We had sun, clouds, wind, rain, lightening, hail, and snow.  Sometimes several of these were all in one day!!  It must be a factor of the altitude and the location that brings such changeable weather.  In the morning it can be downright chilly even in the middle of summer.  By afternoon, you’ll be peeling off clothes and watching exposed skin turn pink from the sun.

Then there are the summer thunderstorms.  In the mountains, these are absolutely awe inspiring.  From seemingly out of nowhere, big thunderheads will begin to gather.  Then you’ll hear the rumble of thunder coming from miles away.  You’ll think you have time to get down or out or under or into your slicker but they move fast!  Wicked fast.  Before you know it, the air is electric.  The wind picks up, the trees moan as they are bent this way and that.  Then you see flashes of lightening streaking across and down from the sky.  The thunder is LOUD.  Sometimes it shakes the very earth on which you’re riding.  Now it will either begin to rain or pelt hail.  If you’ve been lucky enough to get your slicker on, you pull up the collar and pull down your hat.  The air is sparkling, and smells quick and clean.  Your horse lowers its head and you move a little faster.  And then, as soon as it’s begun, it’s over.

The sun comes out from behind the clouds that are moving so fast.  Your horse shakes off the wetness which has shined its coat so it looks like an otter.  You push your hat back and open your coat and breathe in deeply the smell of rain freshened earth and pine.  In these moments, you have never felt so alive.

I recall one time riding with Kel.  A storm had come up and we had dismounted to don our slickers.  The wind, thunder and lightning were upon us and the rain was starting.  I took a deep breath, looked around me at this wonder of nature and said “God, I love this.”  Kel laughed and said “What a relief, I thought I was the only crazy one.  I love it too!”

Whether the day is hot and dusty, cold and snowy, or some kind of weather in between, it’s just another day on the T Cross.  And that means it’s just right.

The best part of camping out for me has always been the time spent around the campfire.  At night, it promotes singing and story telling; in the morning there is nothing like a campfire to ward off the chill and get the day off to a perfect start!

Fortunately, at T Cross, there are ample opportunities to satisfy my fire desire without having to sleep in a tent!!  Many of the cabins have fireplaces which are fabulous!  It is simply nirvana to return to your cabin in the evening, light a fire, and read a good book before turning back the covers and crawling into a heavenly bed to drift off to sleep listening to the crackle and pop of the dying fire.  The lodge will have a fire roaring away in the morning so you can warm your backside while downing your first cup of coffee.  And in the evenings, you can light a fire in the big fireplace in the Ranch Room to share tales of adventure over a cup of hot chocolate while watching the flames dance.  Every Wednesday night, there is a cookout down by the creek and a big campfire is built for everyone to gather around.  There is nothing quite so relaxing as sitting there with the creek rippling and gurgling by, watching the stars and moon come out as you fall into a trance watching the fire.

To facilitate the whole fire starting process, T Cross provides this miracle fire starter which is nothing more than sawdust soaked with diesel fuel.  But it puts fat wood and kindling to shame.  A couple of tablespoons of this amazing stuff and you will feel like Daniel Boone!  I usually become the “girl scout” and either get the fires going, or keep the fires tended.  It just makes me feel useful, and besides it is a good skill to have if you ever get lost in the wilderness.  Of course, not having T Cross Wonder Dust might make the task more difficult; maybe I need to take a little baggy of the stuff along in my saddlebags just in case!

Now, all of that said, there have been occasions when my fire building and tending techniques have been less than stellar.  My friend Robyn has woken many a time to find the cabin filled with smoke. Much of her luggage is now relegated solely to T Cross use because it smells like a campfire.  She has taken to putting her “travel home” clothes in an airtight container so that she won’t offend others on her flight when it’s time to leave.  Unfortunately for her, my “smoke-outs” have not been limited to the cabin.

One memorable evening a group of us had returned from the wagon ride and decided to go hang out in the Ranch Room awhile.  I assumed the fire duty and got a good one roaring away in the fireplace.  We made hot chocolate, and enjoyed each other’s company while falling into that fire induced trance.  That is until the fire alarm began shrieking!  We looked up and noted with some amazement that a thick fog of smoke had filled the room.  We leapt into action throwing open windows and doors and waving blankets in front of the smoke detector.  I moved the fire a little further back into the fireplace and soon the air became clear and breathable again.  Unfortunately for Robyn, she had worn her “travel home” clothes that night and was now wreathed in the perfume of Eau du Flambé.

The next morning we sheepishly asked Mark if he had heard the smoke alarm.  He had, but figured we’d gotten a little carried away with the evening’s solace and it was nothing to worry about.   The T Cross truly is “Home, Sweet Home”.  Smoke and all.

Thanks to Tedd Kidd, fellow dude and fire-man for the photos!

I happen to be lead footed by nature.  After all, I live in the land of NASCAR.  Driving in and around Atlanta is nothing more than a chance to exhibit what I’ve learned watching my favorite driver (Mark Martin) zip around the track dodging competitors.

So it happened one day driving down from Montana to Cody that the inevitable happened.  I got pulled over by a lady State Trooper.  (So much for using my feminine wiles!)  She asked what the hurry was, and as it turned out, I was in a bit of a hurry, so I explained that I was on my way to Cody to watch a horse I was hoping to buy in the next day’s auction perform in the ranch competition.  She only seemed mildly interested.  My friends who were with me chimed in that I’d come all the way from Georgia!  This garnered a smile which translated to “gotta dude here who needs a lesson”.  She patiently inquired if I knew what the speed limit was; and I said that it was 70.  She asked how fast I thought I had been going.  “More than 70”? I guessed.  She then began my education.  The speed limit was 65, it changed when I crossed into Wyoming…did I know when that had occurred?  Not really.  She then proceeded to quiz me as to whether I had seen each of a half dozen or so speed limit signs noting their exact and precise locations for me.  I wanted to say that I guessed I had been going too fast to notice, but some part of my brain kicked in and told me that would not be smart.  The end result was that I got a ticket, but she did give a discount because we all were wearing our seat belts; further proof that it pays to be safety conscious.

I was relating this story to Mark and he agreed that the Wyoming Troopers were pretty no nonsense.  He confessed that he himself had gotten stopped for speeding recently, which given the fact his brother is a cop made it somewhat of a worse situation.  As it turns out, Mark relentlessly teases his brother about always being at the donut shop.  He never fails to ask what the flavor of the month is or inquire about what bad guys might have been nabbed while hanging out getting donuts.  So now Mark is trying to use his cowboy magnetism on the Trooper to hopefully just get a warning about the dangers of speeding across Wyoming.  At this critical moment, 7 year old daughter Kameron pipes up from the back seat and asks the Trooper, “Hey, do you like donuts?”  Needless to say, Mark got a ticket, along with a valuable lesson relating to little pitchers having big ears!

When you come to Wyoming, and you find yourself pushing down a little hard on the accelerator, just try to relax, slow down and enjoy the ride.  And for Pete’s sake, if you do get stopped, don’t mention anything about donuts!

This One's for Gretchen!

Apart from attending the occasional royal wedding, not many people wear hats now a day; except for the intrepid cowboy.  To a cowboy, their hat is a part of them and defines them as a person.  Without it, they feel naked and vulnerable.  An old saying goes: “It’s the last thing you take off and the first thing that’s noticed.”  Plus, nearly everybody looks good in a cowboy hat!

When I was a teen, I had an old brown Stetson that I wore all the time.  I just loved it until I discovered boys. When removed, my naturally curly hair would form a sort of Bozo the Clown arrangement that refused to adopt any other style until washed.  So, the hat went by the way side.

Local Colour??

Fast forward 40 years and while I still have the curly locks, I no longer care about my hat head…too much.  So on the first trip to the T Cross while in Jackson Hole, Robyn and I each purchased cowboy hats.  Hers is a stylish wool felt, foldable model with a gorgeous jasper stone hat band that looks just perfect on her.  Mine is a straw hat with a tiger eye stone hat band.  I got straw because in Georgia, straw works any time of the year, and I figured felt would cause a brain melt in our hot weather.  We wore our hats proudly as we wandered all over Jackson.  When we stopped in the Million Dollar Cowboy bar to wet our whistles, it occurred to us that tourists were taking pictures of the two of us sitting at the bar on our saddle stools.  This was very humorous to me…one day in Wyoming and we’re practically natives!

I got to wondering about the history of cowboy hats.  How did this particular style of headgear come into being and despite the fickleness of fashion, remain a fixture of western styling today?  Prepare yourself for a history lesson!

John Stetson

Tom Mix

The Stetsons used to have a picture inside the crown of  a cowboy dipping water out of a creek in his Stetson for his horse.  This advertising ploy was meant to show how essential the Stetson was to the everyday life of a stockman.  The hats were, and are today useful for all sorts of things in addition to protecting against the elements;  like fanning a camp fire, signaling somebody, and of course, watering your cayuse.  In addition, a cowboy could bend and crease the hat to make it suit their style.  It used to be that you could tell where a fella hailed from by the way his hat was creased.  Sort of like a cowboy license plate.

Hats on Display at Windy Knob

Anyway, cowboy hats are pretty cool, and you will not feel out of place wearing one on the T Cross.  It’s normal attire.  But I must also warn you, the hats can lead to some commentary.  One year, there was a wrangler who hailed from eastern Wyoming where, according to him, the only authentic buckaroos exist.  He wore a straw hat that had seen better days.  It was sort of lopsided, with an off center crease, and hole in the very, very wide brim.  He also pulled this hat down so the tops of his ears lopped over.  One of the guests nicknamed him “the Mexican” because of the hat’s sombrero affect.  This wrangler didn’t take to this teasing well because he saw it as questioning his authentic buckaroo heritage.  We would all hide a grin when “the Mexican” tugged down his hat.  A funny thing happened when he rode in the bareback bronc event at the Dubois Friday night rodeo.  He came bucking out of the chute and on about the third hop he went straight up in the air and came straight down.  When he landed, he discovered his boots had come off, but by some miracle, his hat was still on his head!  My theory on this event is that his hat acted just like the Flying Nun’s headgear, and the lift he caught under the brim picked him up out of his boots and saddle and that was the end of his ride.  Lucky for him he didn’t fly off to parts unknown!

Another time, Robyn and I were riding with Gretchen’s folks, Ken and Garey Neal.  We had stopped to rest a few minutes and one of the dudettes with us wanted the Neal’s to check out Robyn’s cool jasper stone hat band.  She went on about it for several minutes while Mr. Neal quietly studied it.

Ken Neal in His Stetson With Nibbles

Then he spoke saying “That sure is a cheap hat.  Why didn’t you get a better hat to go with that hatband?”  I didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused, but I was actually more afraid he’d critically assess my straw hat next!  Robyn didn’t bat an eye and said this was a starter hat and that she had plans to upgrade one day.  That satisfied Mr. Neal, and on we rode.

There is also the matter of stampede strings.  To wear, or not to wear?  Robyn and I got them, and I can say that without that stampede string, my hat would be  lying in a pasture somewhere in northern Montana by now.  But, it is one of those things that distinguishes, I suppose, the dude from the real McCoy.  Mark and Mr. Neal would not be caught dead with one.  For now, until I eventually get promoted to T Cross wranglerette, I’m keeping mine!

Another part of ranch life is that sometimes cows have difficulty birthing, and now and again, face peril in the process of creating new life.  So it happened one day Mark and Gretchen were headed back to the T Cross when Gretchen noticed a cow in obvious distress.  Now here’s where new fangled technology really paid off.  She sent a text message to the neighboring rancher to alert him, and because of this the rancher was able to save the calf, but unfortunately lost the cow. 

To repay them for watching out for his herd, the neighbor gave the Cardall kids the orphan calf to raise.  And so, Ella came to live at the T Cross.  She is kind of a latte colored calf and took to them like a bee takes to honey.  Mark kept her down by the corral in the equipment shed and the kids bottle fed her for months.  Ethan in particular grew attached to Ella.  Ethan has been “ranch raised” and knows that the ultimate destination for cattle is usually the dinner plate.  One day when he and Mark were feeding Ella, Ethan said “Dad, I don’t think we can ever eat Ella.”  He’s my kind of kid.  Not that I don’t enjoy beef; but I could never eat a cow or steer I knew personally either!

On this particular visit, at the Sunday night “get to know you” dinner, Mark was relating the story of Ella.  There was, as with many T Cross events, more to the story.  Mark told of how one day Frank went into the shed and harassed Ella. Mark described with some detail the beating Ella took because Frank just wouldn’t back off,  with the end result being that Ella broke her leg.  Now as Mark was telling this story, I noticed the eyes of a couple at our table getting big as saucers.  They were, I was sure, trying to imagine who this Frank was and how anyone could be so brutal to a little baby cow. And, I think they also wondered if Frank was still working at the ranch and whether they had made a huge mistake booking this vacation!   I quickly interrupted Mark’s story to clarify that Frank is Mr. Neal’s (Gretchen’s Dad) dog.  They laughed in obvious relief.

Anyway, Mark employed his veterinary skills and set Ella’s leg using a length of PVC pipe and tape.  I am happy to report her leg is straight and true; you would never know such disaster had beset her.  And of course, this just further imprinted her to Mark and the rest of the family.  She would follow them anywhere.

But, hopefully not to the dinner plate because I met her and scratched her head.  She ain’t a eatin’ cow.  Right, Mark?

Most of you have probably heard of square dancing and undoubtedly have a picture in your mind of gents in string ties and ladies in dresses with big, poufy skirts that fly out like a parasol being opened when they are twirled.  I can report there was not one poufy skirt or string tie sighting.  You can wear jeans and boots. Or, if you have a poufy skirt at home that’s just been waiting for an occasion…this would be it!

What you probably don’t know is that square dancing has its roots in 17^th centuryEngland where line dances and rounds were all the rage.  (Of course, so were powdered wigs, a fad which thankfully has gone by the wayside).  As people migrated to America, the dances came with them.  Then, as people moved West, the more traditional dances were lost when rowdy barn dances became the vogue.

I myself like a rowdy barn dance, but in the late 1920’s, Henry Ford, yes, that Henry Ford became dismayed that the dances of his youth were being lost.  He found a guy that taught those dances, but unfortunately, he was under contract to a vacation spot called the Wayside Inn in Massachusetts.  No problem.  Henry bought the Inn and brought the dance instructor, Benjamin Lovett, back to Detroit with him where they established a dance program to reintroduce the traditional squares and rounds.  They even had a radio program and built a dance hall that is still in use today.

In 1926, they published a book called “Good Morning”…not sure why that title, but apparently it provided inspiration and instruction on how to square dance properly.  Lucky for us uncouth westerners, a fellow by the name of Lloyd “Pappy” Shaw, who was a school superintendent in Colorado Springs ,Colorado devoured the text and set about correcting the wild dance methods of the West.  By the time the 1950’s rolled around, it dawned on somebody that some herding was required if square dancing was to be done by the book; so, the “caller” was invented.  Then when amplifiers were invented…look out!  A caller could control a huge group of people and nobody had to really remember any dances, they only had to remember what a particular call meant for them to do!

Who could not participate in something with such a colorful history?  Even me; I am not overly coordinated and sometimes have to consciously think about which is my left and which is my right.  “Quick on her feet” is used to describe my mental abilities, but never my dancing skills.  I found myself looking around for a horse to get on to get me through this event.  Alas, this was a square dance not a mounted drill team event.  But, even with Robyn reprimanding me occasionally for mixing up direction or not understanding the “call”, it was a tremendously fun night!

The square dance is held at the aptly named Rustic Pine Tavern in downtown, metropolitan Dubois.  It is a cozy, comfortable watering hole, and they have built a big room to hold the square dancing party.  There are some locals, and a lot of wranglers and guests from the dude ranches in the surrounding area.  It is absolutely a non-threatening environment (unless Robyn is in your square) and they have experienced square dancers who help groups that seem a little more challenged in the do-sa-do department.  It is also perfectly acceptable to have girls partner with girls if there is a shortage of gentlemen, or, when the gentlemen prefer to observe rather than tackle the potential problem of swinging their partner the wrong direction.  The idea is for everybody to get a taste of square dancing and have a good time!

So, bring along some “go to town” clothes or even a poufy skirt if you have one, grab your partner and create your own historical moment!!

I particularly love western art.  Paintings of western scenes and especially of horses and cowboys enthrall me, and I have a smattering of them decorating my home.  So I was really excited when renowned western artist Jim Rey came to the T Cross last fall in search of inspiration!  Jim was born and raised in northern California, and then he and his wife raised their 5 kids on a cattle ranch outside of Durango, Colorado.  He now resides in Mitchell, Nebraska.  He loves horses, and you can see that shining through in his paintings.  You may be familiar with his work and I’ve included a few here.  Some have made their way to Leanin’ Tree greeting cards, the covers for Louis L’Amour books and he was featured last June in Western Horseman (my favorite magazine)! 

He goes to various ranches to soak up the atmosphere, take photos and get ideas for his paintings.  He was in search of a place where he could somewhat control conditions and be able to really take his time to capture images with his paints.  It needed to be a place that was authentic and truly reflected the West.  So it happened that Margaret and Loyal Wilson, who frequent the T Cross, knew Jim from the Claggett/Rey Gallery where he displays his work in Vail, Colorado.  They knew T Cross would fit the bill, and Mark and Gretchen were more than happy to extend an invitation to Jim to spend some time on the ranch.

Needless to say, Jim found exactly what he was looking for at T Cross.  Aside from the scenery, the ranch itself is a throwback to simpler times.  The cabins, the pole corrals and fences, the fine western horses and the entire ambiance of T Cross spoke to Jim and gave him the inspiration he was seeking.  Now, at long last, Jim is opening an exhibition of these works at the Vail gallery.  “Shadowland: Paintings from the T Cross Ranch” opens today, March 17, 2012!  Check out the teasers and the video in which Jim tells his inspirational personal story of the path he took in pursuit of his passion.  As a bonus, the video shows him create a painting featuring Latch, a good looking bay roan from the T Cross remuda.

It is so wonderful to know the legacy of the T Cross will live on through these remarkable pieces!  I am going to start saving my pennies so maybe I can acquire one of them for myself!  Gee….I wonder if he painted Idaho??

 The theme in all of these shows was that good always won out over evil, crime never paid, families stuck together, friendships were forever, and of course, you rode a good looking horse everywhere.  I don’t watch much TV these days, but I do enjoy it when I can catch a rerun of one of these. It strikes me that the “good guy” theme is a rarity in today’s programming.  So, lucky for everybody that there is not TV at the T Cross!!

Instead, if you have any energy left after supper, you can practice your conversational skills with new and old friends by the fire, play a card game, read a book, watch the stars, or just collapse into bed to dream about the next day’s adventure.  The T Cross is sort of its own reality show, but the “good guy” theme is always present.  It comes from Mark and Gretchen, their kids, the girls and guys who keep people fed and their rooms maintained and tidy, and from the wranglers.

I got to thinking that it’s because of what many of you have probably heard about or maybe read about:  The Code of the West.  It takes on many variations depending on who’s doing the telling.  I ran across this version recently, and I think it’s the truest, and certainly the one that has application in today’s crazy world.  But most of all, it’s the one you’ll see alive and well everyday at the T Cross.  Enjoy.

The Lone Ranger Creed

I believe that to have a friend, a man must be one.

That all men are created equal and that everyone has within them the power to make this a better world.

That God put the firewood there, but that every man must gather and light it himself.

In being prepared physically, mentally and morally; and to fight when necessary for that which is right.

That a man should make the most of what equipment he has.

That “This government, of the people, by the people and for the people,” shall live always.

That men should live by the rule of what is best for the greatest number.

That sooner or later…somewhere…somehow…we must settle with the world and make payment for what we have taken.

That all things change, but the truth and the truth alone lives on forever.

I believe in my Creator, my country and my fellow man.