Happy Fourth of July to everyone! After spending a week in Washington, DC, I think I appreciate it a little better than I used to, but it’s still not too high up on my hierarchy of holidays. First, there’s the weather. Summer is my absolute least favorite time of the year here in the Midwest, with temperatures in the 90s and humidity so high that your clothes stick to you the instant you set foot outside. I know some people love this time of year, but it definitely isn’t for me.
Then there are the activities associated with the Fourth. To be sure, I’m happy to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of the country, and it’s worthwhile to reflect on the actions and sacrifices of the Founding Fathers and those that came after them, but I just don’t really enjoy how we recognize them. I liked my first few parades, but they all kind of seem the same these days. And fireworks shows are neat, but I tend to find myself bored halfway through, wishing they would hurry to get to the grand finale.
So, I spent most of the weekend here at home relaxing. We did a little cleaning to be productive, but spent a lot of the time watching movies, cooking meals and going for evening walks. It was a really nice way to pass three days, especially given how busy we have been the past few weeks. Two weeks ago we spent the entire weekend at the Iowa Corn Indy 250, either at the track, in the parking lot, or snared in traffic headed in or out. And last week, we found ourselves back in Edgewood for Rodeo Days.
Something called Rodeo Days probably sounds a bit out of character for me, a kid from Chicagoland suburbia. Back home, the closest I’d ever gotten to a rodeo was a place called Donnelly’s Wild West Town, which was an old west cowboy themed amusement park. As far as I knew, there was no such thing as a real cowboy anymore, and I didn’t find myself particularly interested to see if I was right. The concept of a rodeo seemed outdated and more than a little inhumane, so I couldn’t picture myself ever going to one.
Then while I was in college, I met my wife-to-be, the former Miss Edgewood and someone who couldn’t remember missing an Edgewood rodeo in her lifetime. That first summer, I remember putting up a little fight, saying I didn’t really care to go, and that our car probably couldn’t be counted on to make it 200 miles anyway. Apparently I was less than convincing; because the day before the rodeo, my wife had a new cowgirl-themed outfit and we were on the road in a rental car. That was six years ago.
By the time Rodeo Days came around this year, I didn’t bother trying to protest. I don’t think I’d call myself a fan per se, but I’ve grown to appreciate the skills required for the different events, and it’s an interesting way to experience the small town Iowa culture. So I enjoy some of the events and hold my tongue when I feel bad for the animals. I’ve heard several times that they are well cared for, and I doubt that cows are as fragile as I might imagine they are as they’re being wrestled to the dirt.
If perchance the quadrupeds do feel mistreated, they get the last laugh at the final event of the rodeo, a scene so implausibly crazy that it’s hard to believe it’s happening, even as you look on in a mixture of excitement, horror and insane glee. It’s the car crash you can’t help but stare at as you drive by, the slasher film that grips you in your seat as the protagonist steps closer to the hidden psycho, and the last second hail-mary pass that seems to fall in slow motion as time expires in a nail-biter of a football game. It’s called, simply enough, Money the Hard Way.
Just in case you’ve never been to Edgewood for Rodeo Days, the premise behind Money the Hard Way is relatively straightforward. A tag is tied between the horns of one of the rodeo bulls, the grunting, glowering ton of muscle and irritability that routinely bucks trained cowboys off in less than eight seconds. Then a command is given by the PA announcer and hordes of men descend from the grandstands, over the fence and into the arena. The bull is released, and the dozens of spectators turned participants grab for the tag. The grand prize for clutching the tag at the end of the mayhem: a mere $100. I can’t begin to imagine what motivates someone to enter this event, but I imagine it involves copious amounts of alcohol and some ironclad waivers on the part of the promoters.
This year, as the sun set over the western chutes and the brilliant overhead lights cast their beams through the dust suspended in the air, the excitement moving through the crowd was palpable. We’d just witnessed bullriding, the typical highlight of an ordinary rodeo, but tonight was Saturday night, so we all knew one more show was about to be put on. The announcement came over the intercom calling the brave (stupid?) into the ring. And just to make things a little more intense, it was declared that this year would feature two bulls, each bearing a $100 tag and each perhaps a little more ticked off than the other.
I don’t know how long it took for the two tags to be grabbed, since I stood in rapt fascination, awe, and shock, watching human beings fly farther than I ever thought they could. No one sustained any serious injury, and two people were about to buy rounds in the small town’s two bars. The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief, and I shook my head bemusedly. A decade ago, who would have believed that I would be here, sharing this bizarre moment with 4000 cheering rodeo fans? It sure is interesting where life takes us. Had I not met my wife in college, it’s an experience I never would have had. And though I may not love the rodeo itself, I do cherish the fact that I’ve experienced something so different, so outside my usual comfort zone.
The rodeo ended up being the week before Independence Day, but in a way I think it was a more fitting way to celebrate than to endure another sterile parade and fireworks display. What better captures the essence of the USA than the cowboy, our history of Western expansion and colonization? And what better way to celebrate the life of our nation than to live a weekend in a small town, broadening your horizons and sharing a new experience with fellow Americans of all walks of life? Love it or hate it, there was a lot about the Edgewood Rodeo that really was the spirit of America, a strange and fitting tribute to a strange and unique country.
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