My history . . .

To say that my love for cattle is in my blood could be an understatement. I was born into a family with a long history in the cattle business. It dates back to at least my great great grandfather Ambrose Merry, who in the early 1900s, is credited with bringing the first Polled Herefords to Wisconsin. The breed was very new and we can get into the reasons why some other time when you need some good reading material before bed and you want to learn about dominant recessives and things like that . . .
Ambrose and his son, William or Bill as he went by, were partners in the cattle business for many years and caught the registered "bug" early on.   Sixty years ago, in February of 1953 at the Park Hotel in good old, Richland Center, Wisconsin, William became a charter member and the first president of the Wisconsin Polled Hereford Association. 
Bill and his wife, Ruby had 6 children who were all involved in the breed and showed extensively. Their oldest child, Durward, my grandfather, inherited the love for the registered business quickly as did his brother, Gordon who is still raising Hereford to this day.  Durward, Gordon and their growing families made many trips in a Buick car or an International pick-up to buy bulls in the west.  Mode of transportation for their purchases was often in the box of that International pick-up with the side racks on.  Just imagine what that felt like to have a 1200 lb (or heavier) yearling bull in the back of your truck?!  My dad tells a story that I love to hear about a bull (an Ox bull for you Hereford pedigree buffs) they bought who would stand up as the truck slowed for every little town they came to along their journey.  As if to get up and say, "are we there yet?!"  And as the truck would accelerate, they could feel him turn a time or two, like a dog does when they lay down, and with a thud; he would lie down and ride quietly until they decelerated again.  

Me . . . about the same age my son is now.

My dad, Richard, and my Auntie Rube shared many memories of trips to sales, state fair and several other shows with their prize winning Herefords.  Local fairs were with their cousins who lived close and were also showing Herefords and the state shows were with Gordon's children, as they made their home in Sun Prairie.  Although my dad's recollection of his childhood of showing cattle involved more work than, "Sissy's"(Auntie Rube), I know he enjoyed it or he wouldn't have signed me up for the project or so willingly gave me the bug to show either.
Growing up, most every memory I have as a family, with the exception of Christmas mornings, involves the farm.  My grandpa, Durward, was killed in a farming accident 30 years ago but my grandma, Alvina, loved those Herefords too and kept right on farming.  With help from my dad and Auntie Rube taking care of the book work, my Gram cared for orphaned calves and baby lambs, fed the bulls, chased cows, hatched chicks, cut thistles, watched my brother and I AND cared for her disabled daughter (another of my dad's sisters) until my Gram was in her 70s!  She is STILL, at 96 years young, sharp as a tack and lives on the farm.  Alone.  With daily visits from Dad.  And she will stay there, she tells us, until she is called home.  I wouldn't argue that point with her.  You won't win.  :)
As a kid, we just showed what we had.  We didn't spend any money on show calves because we didn't have it to spend.  I think I was 13 before I showed steers at the county fair because I couldn’t bare the thought of not taking them home from the show.  My daddy's solution was for me to take TWO steers to the fair then . . . I'd have one to bring home then.  I had breeding stock that I took too and for being a pretty  much bull bred herd, we did okay.   Never had a grand champion heifer or a grand champion steer at the county fair and I think the only time I was reserve was at the carcass contest!  I don't remember what my dad said but he made me feel like winning that trophy with my steer's carcass was so much better than winning on the hoof! 
I did do alright in showmanship as my dad always told me in the end, this was what mattered.  Sure it was about the calf and how well they were presented but it was a lot about you.  How you prepared for the show; both yourself and your animal and how you presented yourself.  It was the one thing I had control of and it didn't matter if I was showing the grand champion or if the calf I was showing DFL'd its class.  
In retrospect, I don't know what it was exactly that made the winning or loosing not really matter . . . was it all that "bonding" we had as a family while we were pitching the manure out of the show barn by hand or the unconditional love I had (and still have) for my cattle and the show ring or my dad's talks that I'll always remember in the truck every night on the way home from the county fair or if there is something more than that.  I hope I can find a way to teach my kids the value of all this history and preparation and patience.  They are gifts that are generations in the making…