To Produce a Smile

Little boys loping their ponies in the river bottoms, playing cowboys and Indians for hours on end. These are some of the memories, which were the building blocks for a life that is lived out today. Reflecting on these memories, during a recent visit to a home, where a video game was in play. The steady sound of automatic weapons and the sound of phrases, such as, "cap that rock slingin' ho", and music pounding at the decibel of 9, was provided by, The Suicidal Tendencies. The title of the song was, I Saw your Mommy, and your Mommy's Dead. My great-grandmother wouldn't let her sons listen to Marty Robbins, because of two lines, I was hangin' around town, not earning a dime. She told the boys that, that song referred to a loafer, and they shouldn't aspire to such a vocation. The cowboy in that song was standing there looking for work, not standing on 9th and Main, pushing heroin. Hat on backwards, pistol tucked into his low riding pants, looking more like a plumber than should be allowed. The activities our children engage in as youngin's, will shape and mould them into the adults that govern and rule our society. At the time in life, when we will want to relax from thirty years of concentrated labour, providing for the next generation, we will be watching our bar covered windows. Looking for thieves, instead of grandchildren through tear soaked eyes of happiness. Of course, because of my new found act of legislation, those grandchildren will now be on a pinto pony, wearing a smile and whistling, The Strawberry Roan.