Happy

I wasn’t planning another interview in Texas on this trip. Generally my rule is one interview per state. On my way to Amarillo though, I saw an exit for the town of Happy. And how could anyone turn that down. 

When I came through, a storm had just passed. The August summer air had dropped to a comfortable 80 degrees. The short respite from the scorching heat set the little town of Happy into a short burst of evening activity. People dropping mail, visiting friends, riding a bike. Happy is exactly the type of town I like best when I’m traveling like this. It’s the furthest from what I know. A town of less than 1000 people, with echoes of America’s pioneer and railroad eras. But not dead. Some buildings in disrepair, others almost sparkling new. With scars but new growth too. 

I walked the town for a moment shooting pictures, distractingly excited by the aesthetic of the town. Soon I wandered past two young guys practice-roping a cattle dummy next to an idling pickup truck. Jayton Walden and Utah Eicke looked right out of a training camp for cowboys. They wore custom spurs on riding boots and carried themselves with a physical competence not found in the second year business majors who would be their peers in a city.

This was the first two person interview of the trip too, a conversation with confirmation and double-checking that always makes for an interesting new depth. 

Jayton was first to open up, on the topic of respect.

“As a cowboy really I think the biggest sign of respect is someone says you’re good help. That generally means you’re a good person. That’s one of the biggest things, and your reputation will carry from there. 

One thing I don’t like is when people don’t look nice, don’t keep themselves nice. They’ve got trash in their lawn. That frustrates me. They represent the community when they do that and it makes us all look bad. That’s a way to un-earn my respect real fast.”

Utah nodded with an approving half smile. The thread I recognized in rural southern communities was becoming clearer. When a community is small enough, morals can be communal, not individual. The entire town functions as a single social organism in a way totally foreign to the groups-of-friends style that I know from my life in cities. 

I pressed on about what makes a life good. Jayton tipped his eyes down bashfully, revealing for the first time some of his youth.

“Well I’ve got a girlfriend I love, you know a good wife is important for a good life. Good friends, you know Utah here is my best friend, for example. I left my lights on all night last night and he came in from 12 miles out of town where he lives to bring me some jumper cables just now. Little stuff like that, support from your friends. That makes life good. Family too, obviously. I don’t know, I’m trying not to just come up with cliche stuff. We had football interviews back in high school and I always wanted to say something not cliche but it never quite came to me.”

Utah chimed in: “A good job, a job you like. And we take care of cattle so good horses are important.”

Excited by the new avenue, Jayton added

“That’s a good point. Utah does a bunch of day work. I want to do more of that. I was going to school for agribusiness. That kinda job you’d maybe work in a feed yard in the office and help manage all the goings on there. But it’s not for me. I’m going to finish up my associates there and go take more day work like Utah does.”

The importance of work was a centerpoint for much of the value in both their lives. I asked about dignity and met an immediate response from Utah.

“Don’t steal. Just don’t steal. That a real big one. The cowboy world is maybe 10,000 of us here. It’s a real small community and a surefire way to lose your standing there is to steal.”

He presented this so matter of factly it almost felt odd to even ask what people might steal, or why this is such a problem.

“We’re caring for cattle and riding horses all day, the equipment we use is expensive. The good stuff is all custom made too. It’s $3000 saddles, or you know these boots are $800. Look over at Jayton’s spurs, those were $650. It gets really expensive, and the custom stuff holds its value for a long time. So people get greedy. There are a lot of wannabes in the cowboy world, and some of them don’t even realize how valuable this stuff is. Others are just no good people. And word gets around on that. If you’re a douche, everyone knows.”

Jayton expanded:

“People around here generally trust each other. Like I never lock my door or my car or anything. If people wanted to steal from me they could.”

I unpacked a bit with them. It seemed that the community can only function with mutual trust, and a sense of a shared moral code. Unlike in bigger towns where there’s just too many people to trust each other that much, towns like Happy can operate like a sort of family, with mutual trust in each other. The same for small communities like cowboys in a region. Especially in a place where community is this important, your dignity comes from the community opinion.

Jayton agreed and offered:

“Right, back in the day at that gas station around the corner, all the old guys in town would sit and drink coffee at 6 am every day. And they’d talk about which kids got into trouble, which kids got caught drinking and that set their reputation for a long time. Same with people who did something bad at work.”

“On the other hand,” Utah explained:

“...if you’re working hard, people are really in your corner. Even if you suck, if you’re trying hard and people can see that, they’ll help you. They’ll give you work, give you supplies, even give you a horse.”

Jayton got a horse for his birthday recently. His dad named him Pockets, cause he’s handy, like pockets on a shirt.”

Jayton laughed and protested a bit, saying the name wasn’t his first choice but it would work.

“That’s the toughest thing, naming a horse. Especially when you’ve got yourself a really great horse name but you don’t know the horse. Worst thing is to waste a badass name on a lousy horse.”

We all laughed together. I’d never named a horse but this felt universal somehow. The sun started to cook a bit more intensely as it burned off the post-storm comfort. Utah started to pack up his truck. I asked a final question, phrased this time as, “what do you want in life that you don’t have.”

Jayton was ready with an answer that Utah nodded vigorously along with.

“I’d like to win some rodeos or roping competitions. Not for the money or the trophies or anything. Just I’d like people to look at me and say, “yeah he’s good at roping.” Have people recognize me for that. That I’m good at what I do. That’d lead to more work too. No complaints there. 

There are a bunch of competitions for this, professional ones especially but the ones that matter more to me are the local ranch rodeos. These are big for making a name for yourself in the community and establishing your reputation as a good cowboy to have working on a ranch. Coming up there’s one here called Happy Days that we’re thinking of competing as a team.”

Utah added one more thing before he left

“I’d like to figure out where to live. I’m all over, still have to find a good place with good work. Somewhere to plant some roots for a moment.”

I asked if he’d ever move north. They both protested incredulously.

“No way. The whole way they cowboy up there is different. They call us cow punchers or buckeroos down here. It’s a whole different style up there, roping is totally different, culture is different. I’d have to learn from scratch.”

I was surprised to find it this divided.

“Oh yeah, even though the cowboy world is tight, it’s cliquey too. Can’t stray too far from what you know. It’s all good natured, like they’re all good cowboys but it’s not easy to make a transition like that once it becomes second nature. I say they’re all good cowboys but what I mean is all of them except the guys from East Texas. If you’re from East Texas, you’re a goober.”

We laughed again. That community respect only goes so far I suppose.