By Casey Koch for Protect The Harvest
I grew up in an unincorporated town in the East Bay Area in California. There wasn’t a whole lot to do except ride our bikes, ride horses, and walk everywhere. It was heaven to be a child living in an area that was rich with agriculture. I spent six years in 4H, always begging to have an animal project, but because we didn’t live on a farm, I did other projects like entomology.
Every year, the cowboys came to town. Not the kids like me playing cowboys, but REAL cowboys. They would compete at the Harry Rowell Ranch and there were several things that stood out to me. How they all stopped everything when the National Anthem played, how they took care of their horses and always gave them a pat, how they’d nod at the bull that just bucked them off out of respect for its prowess, how they tipped their hats to women and girls, how they said “yessir” and “no ma’am” and how they bowed their heads in prayer before the rodeo started.
Several years passed and I was old enough to work a booth and get FREE admission to the rodeo. I worked in the cotton candy booth, swirling the hot sugar just so and getting big “cotton candy trees.” I loved that rodeo, meeting people, watching events,
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