Patrice and I were laughing the other night at what “highbrow” tastes I have. When asked by some recently visiting family about some of my favorite things, I admitted that my favorite meals are homemade meatloaf and turkey dinner, and that I love instant mashed potatoes with both, and can’t live without plain canned cranberry sauce for my turkey. I adore unsweetened iced tea, Guinness stout, and even though I have some very nice jewelry, I almost always wear the same silver cross necklace and ring that Fred and Patrice gave me years ago, along with a $36 Timex wristwatch. They asked me if I had a favorite book or poem. I thought about it a while and had to admit that I will always love the original Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burrows and when it comes to poetry, I can think of a couple poems that I admire by Robert Service, another by Joyce Kilmer, and finally have to giggle and settle on one by Edward Lear. It was a toss up between it and several of my favorite Theodor Geisel works. Yup, my favorite poem is The Owl and the Pussycat, followed in no particular order by a half dozen masterpieces by Dr. Seuss.
Fred and I must have rocked Patrice to sleep hundreds of times as we recited and acted out The Owl and the Pussycat for her. I’m not sure which of us loved that nighttime routine more. Whenever I hear that little poem, it puts an instant smile on my face and brings back some very sweet memories. I was watching my sweet grandnephew a few weeks ago, and he had a little fever and was having a hard time settling down. I found myself walking and rocking him and telling him all about The Owl and the Pussycat. Patrice was with me, and I know it made her smile.
It’s funny how sometimes, the simplest and silliest things bring delight to our hearts like nothing else. I don’t know if that makes me lowbrow or just normal…I won’t waste much time pondering it. I do know that our little family loved The Owl and the Pussycat so much that on his last day with us, when just Patrice and I were with him, we whispered it to Fred, alternating lines between us. He was resting and his eyes were closed but when he heard us doing it, he got a big smile on his face, giggled a little and squeezed both our hands. That’s a sweet memory worth keeping.
So, I’m afraid if you ever venture out to the ranch, you’ll have a tough time finding a lady of refinement; instead you’ll likely find a gal who likes to enjoy an occasional Irish beer or plastic tumbler full of sun tea while sitting on her front porch, surrounded by her dogs. She eats her meatloaf and roast turkey with instant mashed potatoes, recites silly poems and reads old adventure novels. But…she’s pretty comfortable in her own skin, and I hear that kids and animals seem to like her, so she’s got that going in her favor.
Kris Stewart is a rancher in Paradise Valley, Nevada.