Working Along the Green
In the mid 1960’s they were in a transition, moving from Los Angeles to a ranch outside of Pinedale, Wyoming, on the upper Green River, looking for a life that fulfilled them as a couple and as a family. Three sons were growing and almost out the door, but at the same time big and strong enough to provide some of the summer labor required to manage and run a cattle ranch in northwestern Wyoming. A manager and a few summer hands rounded out the work force. With the snow-capped Wind River Range looking down from the northeast and the Hoback Mountains peeking up beyond the beaver damns and forest to the northwest, the high desert sage beneath was watered by the Green River flowing from its nearby source, the Green River Lakes.
The young men and women who worked as ranch hands spent the summers fixing fence, moving cattle and stacking hay on the 3,000 acre spread. The eastern hands who came west across the Mississippi experienced, for the first time, the wide open spaces, high mountains, treeless plains, sage and dry air. The work was hard and healthy. The real value, however, of the summers working on the Ranch was the challenge of thought, an education not experienced in class or at home. There wasn’t a common theme of discussion at dinner each night in the ranch house, or in the field during haying season. Nonetheless, lessons of life valuable to all came through from the two ranchers.
One of the ranchers would stress a belief that was an essential part of his own approach to life. He shared the need to always be growing into a world inspired by one’s own talents and not by the dictates of others or by a singular quest for security. He left in those young hands the joy of pursuing greater knowledge of self, while always challenging them to reshape life around that knowledge, as acquired. The rancher’s wisdom has guided at least one of those ranch hands to this day.
He started out in Wyoming, on a ranch along the Green.
In Sublette County, where folks were few and far between.
While he was pushing cows through sage brush, fixing fence, and stacking hay,
He was paying heed to the ranchers, and all they had to say,
For he was looking to see, what kind of man he wanted to be;
Yes, he was looking for the key, the key to who he ought to be.
He soon put up all his ranching gear, his old boots and jeans,
Drove to Virginia, joined the Marines.
He did his hitch without a glitch,
Then yearning for some rest,
He took the songs he knew and joke or two and headed back out West,
Where he went, looking to the left and looking to the right while looking for a life in between.
He was looking at the black and looking at the white, but working day and night for some green.
He was living in the middle of the riddle of it all, searching for the rhythm within,
And when he looked at life, life looked back with a grin,
For It’s not just an endeavor, life is a work of art,
You’ve got to use your brains, but follow your heart,
Be kind in heart and mind, and always do your part,
And if you can’t put all you’ve got to give in it;
DON’T EVEN START!
He wintered in Alaska, working for the Daily News.
Got so cold that year, even sled dogs were wearing shoes.
He lived in Anchorage, but spent some time in Nome.
A beautiful place,
But he just couldn’t face calling Alaska home.
So he went looking to the left and looking to the right while looking for a life in between.
He was looking at the black and looking at the white, but working day and night for some green.
He was living in the middle of the riddle of it all, searching for the rhythm within,
And when he looked at life, life looked back with a grin,
For It’s not just an endeavor, Life is a work of art,
You’ve got to use your brains, but follow your heart,
Be kind in heart and mind, and always do your part,
And if you can’t put all you’ve got to give in it;
DON’T EVEN START!
He may not be that different from every other ordinary Joe,
Living life day to day, going with the flow,
Finding beauty in simple things that come his way, like a pretty smile or a sunset,
Or a perfect summer day.
But he’s still looking for the key,
The key to who he ought to be.
Yes He’s still looking; He’ll keep on looking;
Looking for the Key.*
*”Looking for the Key” by Ledyard Campbell