COWBOY POETRY: A Grandson’s Loan

Cowboy poet Bryce Angell

My grandson sat down next to me. Said, “How about a loan?” I told him that my pocketbook was dang near skin and bone.

He prob’ly new I had a little money tucked away. I’d saved for those emergencies we call a rainy day.

I quizzed my grandson ‘bout the loan. “How much you got in mind?” He said, “I’d like five dollars please. I’m kinda in a bind.”

As grandpas do I told him, “I can float you extra cash. Let’s look in Grandma’s Bible. That is where I keep my stash.”

I slipped him five new dollar bills, plus five more Ones to boot. I told him I was cleaning out our Bible filled with loot.

My grandson’s smile was almost like he’d won the lottery. Or maybe like my silly mug when at the bakery.

But then I told my grandson. “Back when I was eight years old. We didn’t have much money but our life was rich as gold.”

“Each morning we were up at five and out to milk the cows. And some of us were sleepyheads, not easy to arouse.”

“We fed the horses, gathered eggs, then caught the bus to school. We always ate a breakfast. Even now it makes me drool.”

“We never had allowance but we had a horse to ride. And bullets for the .22 that father would provide.”

“So, no one gave us money. We all learned to do without.” That’s when I said, “Oh by the way, what is this loan about?”

He said, “You’re needing brand new socks. Your toes are sticking through. That’s why I needed money for a pair of socks or two.”

I gazed down at my grandson. Now his purpose came to light. Said, “Let’s head on down to Merckle’s. We’ll have ice cream floats tonight.”

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