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The Cowboy Way
By Kay Daly
October 28, 2003

Watching the nine Democrat Presidential candidates jockey for position, it seems to have devolved into a contest to see who can invent the most creative ad-hominem insult to hurl at President Bush. Even columnists like Jonathan Chiat have joined in the fun with his recent scribblings about his fervent hatred for the President. While they have been somewhat predictable for the most part, one particular label leaves me scratching my head.

I believe it was Senator Lieberman who first started calling President Bush a "cowboy." At first I chalked it up to a complete misunderstanding by a Connecticut Senator who clearly had not come across many cowboys in his day otherwise he might reconsider his position. Then I realized that there just aren't many cowboys around anymore and that a combination of poor depictions had done much damage to the cowboy image.

Perhaps it was Hollywood, blurring the lines between the black hats and the white hats in movies made after the days of the "spaghetti Westerns." Maybe it was a series of military movies in which enraged commanding officers are seen barking orders at less-than-cautious fighter pilots, asking them not to "cowboy it."

It could be the educational establishment, always bent on rewriting history, educating a generation of young folks that evil cowboys slaughtered and pillaged their way through the West, ruining the environment in the process.

Maybe this is a European-imported slur from too many reruns of "Dallas" exported overseas.

Whatever the origin of this so-called insult may be, these candidates would think twice if they had any experience with any real live cowboys.

I have.

A cowboy is someone whose word is his bond. Worst thing you can be in a cowboy's world is a liar or a horse thief. The cowboy knows that it is his name he leaves for generations to come, not stocks and bonds. Names and reputations last, markets crash.

A cowboy protects children, ladies, the elderly and the infirm because it is the right thing to do. And if someone who works the ranch with the cowboy abuses his wife, heaven help that ranch hand if the cowboy finds out.

A cowboy protects animals in his care. If, for example, a sick calf needs a ride to the vet and he doesn't have his pickup, his brand new Lincoln will do. After all, the darned calf bought it, he can ride in it.

A cowboy loves his country, his God and his family with a fierce passion. It was, after all, the cowboy who settled the West and tamed wild places like the plains of West Texas in nothing but tents, where sandstorms could get so thick you'd have to poke a hole through it to spit.

A cowboy is the ultimate disciplinarian in the family. He might let you get away with the small stuff, but if you lie, come close to touching a weapon without his permission, get sent home from school or call from jail, there will be no worse day in your life.

A cowboy has a deep respect for the weather and a love of the land. It is respect and understanding of the cycles of life on the land that can make or break earnings for a year.

A cowboy is determined, gutsy and yet strangely humble. He knows there isn't "a horse that can't be rode or a cowboy that can't be throw'd."

A cowboy just might be able to buy custom made boots because a foot healed wrong after a cow rolled over on it. But he never stands on pretentious notions. Boots are for wearing and that means in the cow yard mere moments after the purchase.

A cowboy doesn't have to dress to impress. A clean pair of khakis and Right Guard is black tie for most cowboys. He'll always have a good story to tell, though, and it is always one that the kids won't have to leave the room for. Unless it is about the government or LBJ. Then he'll get right colorful.

A cowboy won't slaughter his cattle and leave the meat to rot during the Depression when his neighbors and community are starving. Even if the government orders him to do it. He'll sit on his porch with a loaded shotgun across his lap, hand out the meat to his neighbors and tell the misguided bureaucrats who come to call what they can do with their Great Society.

A cowboy is someone you can count on. I know I always could. Because I'm describing my grandfather, J.K. Ray. Because of him, his brothers, and generations before and since like him, the Ray name is respected in his hometown of Lamesa, Texas and beyond.

Mr. Chiat and all of the screeching liberals who spit the word "cowboy" out with utter contempt, show their complete ignorance of the very spirit that founded the West. In fact, we should bemoan the fact that there are so few real cowboys left.

Mr. President, wear the label with pride. You are in good company, sir.