Thoughts In Midst Of A Wreck
Must Be Both Quick And Clear

By Curt Brummett

The other day, I was put in a situation that required some major concentration on my part. It was a situation that required quick and decisive thinking.

I have been known to think quickly in times of major stress and imminent (possible) disaster. However, as quick as I can think, I sometimes don't think all that clearly.

For example, when you are around a mad woman, it is time to not only think quickly, but very clearly. The combination of the two is very important to the survival of your diet program and possible further companionship.

Another example: say you're walking from the store to the pickup and see a little kid fixing to fall out of the grocery basket and land on his head. You're not but six feet from the kid, so you think quickly. You dive to catch the little ignorant, ill-trained darling before he craters his head as well as the parking lot.

You don't think to holler at his mother who is bent over putting groceries in the trunk, you just think about the kid.

You make a running dive and catch the kid.

When you are airborne, you don't have all that much braking power. So since you didn't think to file a flight plan, you run your head into the butt of the woman (who you think would be grateful), knocking her into the trunk, breaking two dozen eggs, and making salsa out of some $2.49 a pound organic tomatoes.

Not to mention putting a whole new crease in a $140 Stetson straw hat.

The kid's bawling and the woman is somewhat miffed, not really wanting to listen to how you just saved the kid a lot of pain and suffering.

Because you thought quickly instead of clearly, you are now getting the cussing of your life. And you will be remembered by hundreds of grocery shopping women because the goofy mother is calling you a male chauvinist, dog-kicking, baby-beating, lowlife, communist s.o.b.

So you slither off to the pickup with your 12-pack and swear to never make another quick move without thinking it over quickly and CLEARLY.

Promises made to yourself like that are broken pretty quick.

We had just penned 40 head of white bramer cows and calves that were extremely wild and somewhat aggressive when cornered.

The old man who owned these cows had warned us that there were two (in particular) that would shore-nuff check your oil. I don't know which two he was talking about, because they all looked alike to me, 1200 pounds, white and all had horns. They were all bouncing off the fences the same way.

When we pen cows, we just pen 'em. Generally, the owners help the truck drivers load 'em.

Not this time.

The old man asked us to help load 'em.

He had some friends coming with pickups and trailers and it shouldn't take long. (Yeah, right.)

These pens were built in 1954 and the only improvements to 'em were a set of bedsprings and a windmill tower that just happened to fall in the right spot to help make up one side of the loading alley. There ain't a gate on the place that latches right or even swings, as far as that goes. And there are trees and things growing all over the place.

Now the old boy I worked for has a tendency to get somewhat excited when things don't go just as planned. He has (on occasion) been known to jump up and down, sling snot and cuss past presidents, womens’ libbers and his hired help. He got a lot of use out of his vocal cords that day.

For some reason, nothing jumped out. I think it was because they were too busy trying to jump on us. The old man's help was older than he was, and the bedsprings had to be wired back up at least five times.

We were down to the last four cows when it happened.

It was about 102 degrees, I was skinned up from jumping over or going under fences, bouncing off of trees, and getting kicked. The old boy I worked for looked about the same.

We got three of the last four loaded and noticed right off that the fourth one didn't care anything at all about going down the alley.

After several attempts, the cow was hot, I was hot and my fearless leader was now cussing the Girl Scouts as well as any member of the female gender, whatever the species.

He screamed at me to jump in that alley and run at her, that she was more afraid of me than I was of her. I figured the heat had effected his eyesight and he just couldn't see how really afraid of her I was.

I screamed back from behind the bedsprings, "show me what you mean, brave one."

It worked. He jumped into the alley and made a run at her, screaming his head off. She turned and ran towards the trailer, he closed in on her, then she turned and headed towards my fearless leader, and he turned and tried to get behind the bedsprings with me.

There was only room for one, and I done had that spot.

He turned and made a dive to go under the windmill tower, and she did too.

He picked a spot that was a little lower than he thought. He got squeezed under ‘til he come to his waist. His chap belt hung on the bottom board. Which, I might add, presented a pretty good target for the non-loading cow.

Now I'm standing there watching her overhaul my fearless leader with her head, and I'm noticing that even though he's hollering for help, he's making progress.

I had a flashback to the parking lot scene.

I thought quickly, and then I thought clearly. (I was so proud of myself.)

That cow hit 'im one more time and pushed 'im plumb under that windmill tower leg, then turned and joined her friends on the trailer. Them old men pert-near didn't get the gate shut simply because they was laughing too hard.

My fearless leader was still upset when we loaded the horses and headed to another job. I didn't care.

My quick thinking: "He's okay because he's still hollering."

My clear thinking: "Better him than me."