Fiesta Days have arrived in Cave Creek, Arizona. The morning parade stretched for three miles. Cave Creek Road was lined the entire length of the parade route as locals and visitors listened to the local High School Band, watched the horses, saluted and took off their hats for the American flag each time it passed, and waited for the live country band on a wagon pulled by a semi.
The rodeo was in town. Arizona’s Miss Rodeo and her court joined the three mile column. [photo above]. She and the runner-up on horseback, her court on a float behind. Gila County’s Miss Rodeo had a separate entourage. It’s all quite a do in Cave Creek, a time when strangers talk and children run with excitement.
Cave Creek ain’t New York City or San Francisco. It’s a town that celebrates its western heritage with cowboy bars, and western shops. You can buy a saddle there. They cater to bikers, and the Harleys roar down the main drag every Sunday for the biker brunch. The local newspaper is a tad right of center. It features editorials questioning the birthplace of the president and letters about how grandma will have to die so the freeloading welfarists can get medical care and guest editorials about how the EPA should be abolished.
After the parade, some families round up the kids and head home. But most are staying for the rodeo and find a country bar for lunch and a beer…usually more than one…before they move on to the rodeo grounds. My favorite watering hole is the Buffalo Chip Saloon and Dance Hall. It was packed after the parade. Inside and out, maybe 1000-1200 people. It’s a big place that holds 450 inside. Well, that’s the posted fire code maximum, but nobody counts. Outside is another acre or two with a vast wooden porch and, beyond that, 20 or more picnic tables, and beyond that the bull riding arena where liquored-up wannabe cowboys take their chances riding live Brahma bulls on Wednesday and Friday nights.
Some of the patrons rode to the Buffalo Chip on horseback. Yes, the place has hitching rails for folks who want to do that and a watering trough for the horses they ride in on. The dirt parking lot was filled with Harleys and pickup trucks. The outdoor barbecues were in full swing: pulled pork, brisket, chicken. The beer was in iced tubs outside. The dress code included jeans, cowboy shirts, big belt buckles, cowboy boots and cowboy hat. Some added to the outfit carrying holstered guns on their hips. You can do that in Arizona. The women liked being called girls and came to be seen in their best western attire. There was a special Saturday amateur bull riding contest. One wannabe got butted by a bull and separated his shoulder. The viewing stands were full and the rest of the onlookers stood hip-to-hip.
Sheriff Joe, Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, stopped by to a rousing ovation and calls of “Sheriff Joe, Sheriff Joe.” He’s the face of conservatism and a hero to many here, with his tent city jail, pink underwear for prisoners who eat day old bologna sandwiches and his immigration sweeps for illegals. He always shows up for parades and rodeos. He represents what many at the Buffalo Chip Saloon and Dance Hall believe.
Now, if you think I’m writing this to bash conservatives, you’re wrong. These people may not work for right-of-center think tanks, but they’re not hicks or dolts. They’re good people. Honest people. They honor the flag when it passes. They believe in America and respect their view of its heritage. They believe in self reliance and helping their neighbors. You’d want one or two of them standing behind you in a tough spot. They aren’t constrained by political correctness and aren’t afraid to have a good time. They understand what Gretchen Wilson means when she sings “I ain’t afraid to eat fried chicken or dirty dance to Merle…” in California Girls.
Most of them didn’t vote for Obama, and more than a few have probably attended tea parties. They mean it when they say they don’t want America to become a welfare state and they don’t want any more taxes. They mean it when they say they want serious punishment for law breakers. They mean it when they say they support our military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan. They mean it when they say they want their children to be raised in the America they grew up in, not some quasi Euro-socialist state.
You don’t have to agree with them. Most of them will listen to other points of view. But you won’t change their minds. Just understand that they are there. They don’t wear horns; they wear cowboy hats and work clothes and business suits and dresses. They don’t live in militia encampments; they live in homes in neighborhoods and on farms and in condos. They are real people, part of the fabric of America. They care about their country and hold their beliefs close to their hearts. They too are part of our great national diversity.
Cross posted at Elijah’s Sweete Spot where COMMENTS/DISCUSSION are Disqus(tm) enabled.
Contributor, aka tidbits. Retired attorney in complex litigation, death penalty defense and constitutional law. Former Nat’l Board Chair: Alzheimer’s Association. Served on multiple political campaigns, including two for U.S. Senator Mark O. Hatfield (R-OR). Contributing author to three legal books and multiple legal publications.