Let the Chips Fall

Let the Chips Fall

By: Denton Dowell

 We have all been at shows where we don’t agree with the judge who sorts the livestock. Am I a guilty party of being mad and talking trash about the judge? Yes, I am guilty. Nobody can prove if a show is “rigged” or not.  With that said, I feel like this is something that everybody in the livestock showing industry needs to be told. So here are my suggestions on how to go to the show and feel good about what you are doing.

First thing to do is to buy the best animal you can afford. If you can afford a thirty-thousand-dollar steer and you think he is the best, then pull the trigger. If you can only afford a five-hundred-dollar sheep, go and find the best five-hundred-dollar sheep you can find. Within this part of the livestock season, we must also remember that the most expensive isn’t always the best one.

Second thing to do is to be sure to do your homework. You will never win a show by not working at the barn. In my opinion, the banner is not won at the stock show, but it is won at home. The person who is out there working hair, walking pigs, setting up show lambs before day light during the school year and on every Saturday night in the summer is the one who has the best chance to win. Also, you must feed to the best of your ability. I don’t care if you feed HighNoon, ShowTec, or Jimmy Joe’s finisher ration from the local feed mill. Here is the trick to feeding folks: Get on a program, stay on a program, understand your program. Just because the person who wins a major stock show is feeding a different brand of feed than you are don’t run out and buy that feed thinking you will win just by feeding it.

Third, at the stock show, don’t be afraid to ask for help. I know people see the show jocks as cocky and stuck up. But here is a little secret, they are they to help kids and win at the end of the day. If you go up and ask someone for help my bet is that almost all of them will do what they can do to help you. With that said, think about when to ask.  If you go over and ask someone for help and you see they have seven head of sheep in the next class don’t be surprised if they tell you no. However, the night before the show is a good time to say, “Hey I need some help showing, can you help me for just a minute?”  I bet you nine times out of ten, you’ll get a yes from anyone you ask in that barn.

Fourth, show the animal to show off the best qualities and hide the worst. If you know your steer isn’t quite fat enough turn his head to you a little to make it feel like he is. If your pig is super wide chested and wide going away, then be sure you take that truck and drive it right at the judge. These little tricks are not cheating; they are knowing what you have and knowing how to show off your animal that you have spent countless hours with.

Lastly, be realistic.  We all get barn blind. It just happens. We have to be smart enough to look out at the animals in the class and say, “Hey we just got beat.” And you know what?  There is nothing wrong with that. Every single person will get beat. Whether you are in the show ring or in life. It is part of it. This is one thing all our youth needs to learn and lean fast.

I really feel if you do these five things, you will be ok in the show ring. Don’t get caught up about what certain judges want. Just haul a good one to them and let the chips fall. If you win be happy. If you get beat, then learn from it. And at the end of the day remember this is one person’s opinion on one day.  This industry doesn’t need nasty articles printed in agriculture publications or nasty text sent to judges.

Should we be happy when we get beat? No! In the words of General George S. Patton “I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughs.” But, what we can do is learn from it figure out what we need to do differently.  And let's remember, we're here to raise good kids, that's what really matters.

State Fair Did That

“You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.”   ~Steve Jobs

This year I will miss the New Mexico State Fair for the first time in about 18 years.  I'm not happy about it, but between wedding stuff and job stuff there was just no way to make it work.  But this got me to thinking.....that fair prepared me for all of the things going on in my life now.

 Dream big.

The first time I showed at the State Fair, I came home with no sale slot and a 9th place ribbon.  I remember telling my dad that one day I wanted to raise a lamb that would win his class at the State Fair.  It was a lofty goal--even owning a lamb that would win his class was probably a stretch at that point in time--but it was something I knew I wanted to do.  And so we worked.  Me.  My family.  My ag teacher.  Friends who helped us.  We all worked harder and longer to improve.  I ended my State Fair career with several of those blue ribbons, a shiny belt buckle, and my very last State Fair landed me a winner with that lamb we raised ourselves.

State Fair taught me to dream big and go after what I want.  This skill has come in handy many times over the past 18 years.....it got me into law school, landed me a job at a Top 25 firm in San Francisco, got me this job at Texas A&M, and most recently gave me the courage to ask to be able to keep doing this job while living in the Panhandle.  It was a crazy request.....but it got approved and I'll be moving just before the wedding.  State Fair did that.

Find people who you can trust. 

I didn't meet Teacher Friend at State Fair.  We met at our local county fair and then went to school together.  But our friendship--which has now lasted about 21 years--was solidified in the dorms at the State Fair.  Every year, without fail, she would hightail it to the dorms the second her feet hit the fair grounds and claim us bunks in the best location---back corner, away from the doors, away from the showers.  I never once had to worry about where my bed would be located, because Teacher Friend was on it.

When people told me I needed to find someone that I could trust to handle details on the wedding day so that I wouldn't have to, there was zero question in my mind who to ask.  I know Teacher Friend will be all over it and make sure I don't have to worry about anything.  State Fair did that.

And know who you can't.

Conversely, I learned quickly, particularly after being successful in the show ring, that there are people you can't trust.  People who will say one thing to your face and another behind your back. 

And if you ask me, life's too short for dealing with those kind of folks.  I refuse to do so now.  State Fair did that.

It's important to talk to people about what we do.

I'm the first to admit that the "city folks" walking through the show barns asking questions can get annoying.  "Do they bite?"  "Will he kick me?"  "What is that thing on his mouth?"  "He's a boy because he has horns, right?"  "Can I have some of this hair you just cut off of him?"  Aye yai yai.  And normally this goes down right in the middle of the most stressful day of the year....show day.  But dealing with this for over a decade taught me how to talk to people about showing and sheep and agriculture.

Turns out.....talking to people about agriculture is what I do for a living.  That's what I'll be doing on Monday that prevents me from going to the fair this year. I get paid to educate folks--albeit usually not city folks--about agricultural law.  It's the dream job and I really do feel like I've got a great background to do it well.  State Fair did that.

Make friends and keep them.

The best part of State Fair was seeing my friends from all over the state for a week every year.  It was sort of like a week-long slumber party with your friends.  (I mean, you slept in a cold, nasty dorm and hung out in a dusty barn all week, but it was great!)  Some of my best friendships were forged at that fair.

Over the years, I've been reminded of this over and over.  When I've needed rescuing after a near-death experience, I called a State Fair friend.  When I've needed help trying to prep materials for my ag law class, I called a State Fair friend.  I've been in their weddings, mourned with them and for them at funerals, and know the value of friendships that started when we weren't even old enough to drive.  State Fair did that.

Know what love looks like (and doesn't).

Ah, State Fair romances.  Many a broken heart started right there in the courtyard of the ol' dorms.  The truth is, we probably learned more about what love wasn't at the State Fair, but we learned a lot about what it was too. 

It was watching parents holding hands on the way back to sleep in two different dorms.  My dad taking me to the mall after I won Champion Cross to buy a new shirt for the dance.  Mr. Franklin waking up with me at 3 am to drench lambs the morning before the show.  Eric clipping legs on finewool lambs for umpteen years.  My mom with her video camera in the stands.  My brother coaching me from outside the ring.  Taking the Little Blond Haired Kid for ice cream before the sale.  High fives from Wade after things went well, and pep talks after they didn't.  There really was a lot of love in that big barn. 

(I'm not blind...there were a lot of major family disputes in that barn too....I remember and was involved in one or two of those babies).

As I look forward to marrying The Boy from Texas in 45 days (who's counting?), I'm glad to have seen examples of fair family relationships and hope that we can raise our kids in the same environment.  State Fair did that.



Family Farm Friday #88: I'll Take The Stock Show

Last week I saw an interesting conversation on Facebook that had people pretty polarized.  It all started when a mom suggested that her kids should not show animals this summer so that the family could go on a vacation to Disneyworld.  Now, let's start with a reminder that I'm all for everyone having their own story and making their own decisions. And I'm not harping on someone about making decisions differently than I would make. 

But that said....I'll take the stock show.

Growing up, we did not go on family vacations.  We went to stock shows.  And while I've never been to Disneyland, I'm pretty sure that the roller coaster rides, churros, and fake mouse ears can't replace what the stock shows gave me.

 

At those stock shows (and the months leading up to them), I learned what it meant to work hard.  My brother and I got up early, went to bed late, busted our butts in between dealing with weights and drench guns and feed regiments and wash racks. I also learned that not everyone worked that way.  I remember countless times it would be 8:00 at night and I'd come into the dorms covered in feed and hay and manure and lord knows what else, while some of the other girls would be all dressed up, make up on, and hair fixed.  And while I can't say that it happened this way all the time, but I lot of the time it was those of us who spent the week covered in manure who ended up smiling come the end of show day.  Not a bad thing for a kid to learn.

 

 

 

 

At those stock shows, I was surrounded by adults who became like family to me.  There were women who would haul in enough food for an army and be sure that we didn't go hungry by dishing out posole and beans from a crock pot in the tack pen.  There were men who helped sheer my sheep and haul our show boxes in and out and had no problem telling me if I wasn't doing something right.  There was an ag teacher that became one of my very favorite people in the world with his glare for people who showed up late for feeding, and his Rainman-like remembering of the weights of seriously every lamb in the barn, and his uncanny ability to sniff out coffee somewhere in the barn before anyone else was even awake to make it.

At those stock shows, I made friends from across the state.  Friends who have known me since I was 10 years old and who are still in my life 20 years later.  Friends whose babies I have held and funerals I have attended and weddings I have stood up at.  Friends who I never would have met were it not for the yearly "family vacation" to a stock show.

 At those stock shows, we spent quality time with our family.  After one particularly long, and I mean LONG night at the barn, that I'm fairly sure involved my dad breaking his toes after kicking something, I remember him saying that we might look back at parts of this showing deal and remember the fights, but we'd also look back and always remember him being there.  And he was right.  I remember the fights for being funny now, but I remember all of the time and money and sacrifice that he and my mom made so that we could go to those stock shows.  And that was a gift that is priceless in my mind.

 

And there's certainly more that those shows taught me.  Competitiveness.  Being a humble winner and a gracious loser.  Lucky shirts and lucky halters and the smell of sawdust and Revive.  That post-Led Zeplin concerts are probably not a great place to be in the dark.  A lot about love was learned at those dances and the dorm steps and the dairy barn alley where certain curse words were hurled at BFF when he hurt a girl's feelings.  How to change a trailer tire that blew every year on the way to Albuquerque.  How to talk to the police when things got a little rowdy at a street dance (and a certain someone needed me to lead him back to the dorms by the arm!)  That life is not always fair.  That I was never going to be as high maintenance as some of the other girls who hauled in a crap ton of clothes and shoes and fancy belts.  And that the best place for a bed was in the back corner (and the best friends to have were those that always got there early to snag them!)  What it felt like to be handed that bright purple banner and shiny belt buckle.

 

 

So, all this to say....I'm sure Disney World is great.  But I'll take the stock show.  Every single time.

Family Farm Friday #84: He Waited a Long Time

"It's hard to beat a person who never gives up."  ~Babe Ruth

I have to admit, after the success our lambs had last year at the New Mexico State Fair, I was a little worried that this year would be a major let down.  But because I have done this every year for the last 18, I loaded up my bags and headed to Albuquerque last weekend for the fair.  And it couldn't have been better.

I spent four days at the fair in a barn full of dust and animals and some of the best people in the world.  I ate a lot of burritos and had green chile on just about every meal.  I was given free stocks in Mr. Graham's latest scheme.  And I got more hugs in those four days than I'll probably get for the rest of the year.

And the shows?  Well, they went awesome.  Like, real awesome.

First up was the New Mexico Bred Steer Show. We just had one calf showing, but he won his class!  Yay!  We're not just sheep people, turns out!

And then it was the sheep show day.  Which also happened to be my dad's birthday.  He said for his birthday he really wanted a breed champion and another class winner.  Well, he got his wish.  And then some.  Three class winners, two Reserve Breed Champions, and Champion Finewool Cross. 

Dad spent his birthday high fiving moms and kids, answering "Who raised that lamb?" proudly with "We did!"  He teared up when encouraging a little boy from our hometown who got beat, but did the best job showing that he'd ever done.  And he spent the entire next day working on getting a website up and running to share the photos and the news. 

But my favorite moment of the week happened after the show.  My dad--the one who you can hardly get to look at a camera and pay attention--took three photos in a row in the sheep show version of the winner's circle and smiled bigger than I might have ever seen.  When the first picture was over and the photographer (not realizing we had won three breed or reserve breed champions) tried to shuffle my dad out of the photo backdrop, my dad told him, "I've waited a long time for this and I'm going to be here a while."  And he was, for three photos in a row.

Champion Finewool Cross

Reserve Champion Finewool Cross

Reserve Champion Finewool

You better believe that my dad deserved his time and three pictures in front of that banner.  Because there was a lot of hard work that went into that.  Generations of hard work, actually.  My grandparents started it all over 60 years ago when they bought our farm and our first ewes.  Then my grandma ignored everyone who told her to sell out when my grandpa died and left my grandma with two teenage boys and a farm to run.  Instead, they worked harder.  They sacrificed.  And they kept on going.  There were hours spent at the barn.  Hot days of sorting ewes.  Pulling lambs in freezing cold blizzards.  Early mornings of getting up to cut hay and late nights fighting with the bailer that is always broken.  Trips to Iowa to find a ram.  Sleepless nights before our show lamb sale.  Dead rams and prolapsed ewes and lambs that just didn't turn out.  My dad waited a long time for Tuesday and I am here to tell you, there's no one who deserved it more than him.

Thursday Before State Fair

"We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.” ~  Haruki Murakami

The Thursday before State Fair always brings back good memories for me.  I never paid any attention in school that day.  (Sorry, Mrs. Franklin, don't be mad!)  I was too excited and too busy doing mental checks of whether we remembered to pack the sleeping bags and the electrolytes and the lucky can of Revive.

The State Fair was probably my favorite week of the year.  There were the cool early morning feedings and analyzing weights with Mr. Franklin and street dances in front of Tingley and camping in the back corner of the dorms.  There were friends to see and boys to hold hands with on the dorm steps and sheep to be showed.  We won buckles and earned sale holes and I made my craziest showing dream come true and my Dad sported his "lucky shirt" even after it was covered in holes.  There were crockpots full of Posole, red cups full of beverages, and little boys full of Tom Thumb donuts.  We ate ice cream before the sale with The Little Blonde Boy and smothered burritos at Taco Hut with Mr. Franklin and Uncle David insisted that if we'd eat the veggies at the Teriyaki Chicken Bowl we wouldn't go home sick.  We snuck onto the floor for concerts, stole signs off of the top of Tingley, and always went one restaurant past Steak in the Rough, which was our official boundary (because bad things happened on the Midway).  It was on those grounds that I learned Mother Theresa had died, that Princess Diana had been in a crash, and that the Twin Towers had been attacked.  And it was there where I made some of my best friends and favorite memories.

It's amazing that one place--somewhere I spent only 1/52 of my year--holds so many memories.  But it does.  And that's why I go back every year.  There's something about that place--the people--the sounds--the smells.  But mostly, there's something about the memories.

Family Farm Friday #83: The Point

In sticking with the fair theme that I started yesterday, I came across a great poem that I had to share.  This one hit home for me.  First, because I have a dad (and a Mr. Franklin) who gave similar speeches.  And second, because as a 9 year old kid whose lambs were NOT good, I told everyone that would listen that one day I would raise a lamb that would win a class at the State Fair.  My last time to step into the ring at State Fair, I got that blue ribbon.  But the ribbon--cool as it was--was not the point.  The point was the goal I set when I was 9.  One that seemed unachievable.  One that I had to work towards for the next 10 years.  That was the point.  I think those of you who have set foot in a show ring will completely understand.

Dad Talks to His Son Before The First Time He Shows A Calf

 

 

This is your first time on the tanbark. I hope you win.

I hope you win for your sake, not mine.

Because winning is nice.

It’s a good feeling

Like the whole world is yours.

But, it passes, this feeling.

And what lasts is what you’ve learned

And what you learn about is life.

That’s what most competition is all about; life.

The whole thing is played out in three laps around the ring.

The happiness of life.

The miseries.

The joys.

The heartbreaks.

There’s no telling what’ll turn up.

There’s no telling whether you’ll be DAL, bridesmaid or champion.

You might have fitted a champion or the last place animal.

There’s just no telling, even when we think we have a good one.

Too much depends on chance.

On how one judge sees the line-up on one day.

I’m not just talking about the game, boy.

I’m talking about Life.

But, it's life that the game is all about.

Just as I said, life is a serious game; Dead serious.

But that’s what you do with serious things. You do your best.

 

Fit every calf like you are headed for the colored tanbark of Madison; give life your best every day.

Winning is fun, sure.

But winning is not the point.

Wanting to win is the point.

Not giving up is the point.

Never being satisfied with what you’ve done is the point.

Never letting up is the point.

Never letting anyone down, calf or man, is the point.

Play to win. Now handle that halter like you have it on a champion.  

 

Throwback Thursday #59: State Fair Memories

“It's surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.” ~Barbara Kingsolver

Yes, I know it's Wednesday. But I have another post for tomorrow, so we're doing Throwback Thursday a day early. Stick with me.

As I walked around the State Fairgrounds this last week, I felt a sense of nostalgia. I started to think about all of my memories of the State Fair. You know what I realized? It amazes me how a place where I only spent one week out of each year at could have so many memories. You'd think that 1 out of 52 weeks of each year would sort of be a blip on the radar screen of life. But not State Fair.


Those fairgrounds are home to some of my favorite memories.

.......Teacher Friend rushing over to the dorms the minute we arrived to get dibs on the best bunks (fyi--corner farthest from the doors, bathroom and showers) and set up camp.......

.....Earning the nickname Sunshine for going to chores with total bedhead when I was about 15....

.....Mr. Franklin's uncanny ability to automatically remember the declared weight of any animal that any of his kids owned (on the scales that are perpetually 2 pounds light every year).....
.....Dancing our little hearts out in the street in front of Tingley every night.....

.....Wade grabbing me by the arm at one of these said street dances and saying, "It's time for you to leave" after a Led Zepplen concert let out and things got a little hairy and literally walking me back to the dorms.....
.....holding hands with a cute boy on the steps of the dorms......

.....sitting for hours outside dorm number 9 talking to one of my oldest friends, not knowing that would be the last time I'd ever see him.....
....crowding around the only tv on the fairgrounds to watch the horror of 9/11 unfold in front of our eyes........trying to leave to go to dinner with my dad and Mr. Franklin and it taking an hour to get from the pens to the car because they had to stop and talk to everyone along the way.....

.....taking the Little Blonde Headed Kid for ice cream on sale day......
.....Trey smacking his mom with a pig bat and her literally hurdling a fence to beat the crap out of him....

.....winning my first State Fair buckle with my champion cross (and my dad letting me drive to the mall afterwards to buy a new shirt for the dance that night)......
.....Little Brother's pig, Harley, almost winning a banner at the pig show.... .....and that day being the start of my dad's "lucky show day shirt" that he wore for the next 8 years!.....
....BFF making the most proper girl I know scream the F word at him (I mean how could you get mad at that innocent little face??).....
......the Tom Thumb donut stand, where you could always be sure to find Little Brother if he was MIA.....

.......always eating at Steak in the Rough becuase it was the farthest restaurant we were allowed to go to (since we were told by our parents that people died on the Midway)....

.....winning a class with a lamb that I raised myself my very last year to show (a goal I had set for myself when I was about 12 years old)....
But most of all, what I'll never forget are the friendships that I made. With other kids from across the state. With ag teachers from other schools. With parents and grandparents there with their own kids. Looking at things from this side, the State Fair gave me a second family, one that I have a reunion with for a week every September.

So for me, the State Fair is about so much more than fried food and carnival rides. And heck, I guess it's even about more than belt buckles and sale checks. It's about memories. And about a second family. And I can honestly say, I can't imagine my life without them.