Memories are something to be cherished, not forgotten. You savor the meaningful, important ones and the others slowy fade away from our thoughts. My first innocent steps into my cowboy boots, the tight squeeze into my hand me down wranglers, and doing up the small delicate buttons on my western shirt is just the begining of my encounter with Calgary Stampede. As long as I can remember, there isn't a year in my life thats been deprived of this prestigious event, whether rain or shine nothing got in our way making our 2 hour journey to the big city! I was amazed by the skyscrapers, how they just disapeered into the sky being eaten by its magnificance. Arriving at the Calgary Stampede you encountered a whirl wind of senses: the sun kissing your innocent skin, the smells of cattle, and shavings that lingered in the air along with the mixture of food, and your ears practically vibrated with the echo's of cattle with in the barns. You entered the barns with your head held high with pride and dignity that you had a reason to be there and you were not with one of the elementary groups touring in shock and awe of a cow. Wandering the barns with one mission - to find the man in the bright orange shirt - that would be my dad who would have arrived earlier that day with our cattle to exhibit. I knew the building like the back of my hand and weaved through the stalls until I encountered him, with a bright smile painted on his face wrapping myself in his arms, my hero.
The long days of showing, playing, and cluelessness of the adventure that awaited outside the doors of the barns.
Returning back to the stampede every year brings back memories from my childhood, remembering how I had no idea why the parents got a little crazy at night and how it was a beginning of my never ending life in agriculture.
As Kevin Arnold once said, "Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose"
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