Hey, Dude!

It’s the first week of June, and in my house that means only one thing.

It’s time to go to the ranch!

My grandparents started the tradition over twenty years ago with a short family reunion at the Circle R Dude Ranch in Bandera, TX.  There were eight adults and six kids back then, and, at about age 11, I had my first crush on a horse.  I plucked hairs from his mane for a keepsake, and my first car bore his name.  Jinx.

A few years later, the tradition became annual with a week-long stay at the Lazy Hills Guest Ranch in Ingram, Texas.  It was the first of over twenty which saw our family expand like a good Catholic family should.  Kids grew up, became adults, had their own kids, and experienced the ranch through new eyes.  At its largest, there were about 35 of us.  And we only missed one summer, a summer filled with too many graduations and new babies.

Unlike our family, the ranch changed some, but not much, during those years. 

The family that owned it grew older, as did the kids who came every summer to work there.  The facilities fell into disrepair and were fixed.  Sort of.  And the once thick gathering of oak trees became thin as a blight attacked and killed them one by one.

But the cabins didn’t change at all.  Same rustic furniture and loud window air conditioning units.  Same blue denim bedspreads with the Lazy Hills monogram.  And always the same film of dust scattered on the terracotta tiled floors.

And what we did stayed the same year after year.  Ate, napped, did puzzles, visited, ate some more, rode horses, read, played games, and finally, ate once again.  What a life.

A few years back, my Grandparents passed on.  First Papa with his calm smile and knack for making the best fried potatoes in this world.  Then Grandmutter, the true matriarch of the family.  The ranch planted a tree, dedicated to them, in front of their cabin.  Number 5.  We held a ceremony and let balloons float lazily toward the heavens.

And then, two years ago, Lazy Hills closed itself to guests.

The tradition could have died with them, but it didn’t.  My parents, aunts, and uncles picked up the torch.  Bless them.  We now have a new ranch, the Flying L.  Its positively swanky compared to Lazy Hills (and thankfully much cleaner), but perhaps not as authentic.

So next week, it’s off to the dude ranch!  My stepdaughters can’t wait, and neither can I.  I just hope I’m able to haul my butt up on a horse without too much embarrassment.  Ride ‘em cowgirl!