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    <title>Watch Yore Topknot</title>
    <category>Watch Yore Topknot</category>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/i-was-supposed-to/</link>
        <title>I was supposed to…?</title>
        <description>When I think about living in a home that’s eight feet wide and twenty feet long there don’t seem to be that many places I could misplace anything. But I do. This whole dynamic of not being able to remember...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 15 Oct 2018 09:03:06 -0600</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[It seems like I spend a lot of time trying to remember what it is that I was supposed to do. I’ve tried writing things down in a little “tally book,” which helps, as long as I can remember where I put it. When I think about living in a home that’s eight feet wide and twenty feet long there don’t seem to be that many places I could misplace anything. But I do. This whole dynamic of not being able to remember has been creepin’ up on me for some years now. In the beginning, it was just forgetfulness; everyone does that now and then. Then it became the fault of all the knocks I’ve taken to the area my hat sits on, and now, with the passing of one more year, it’s become age. Thank goodness there’s a bright spot along with all this gray hair – it’s age’s fault that I can’t remember so well anymore. As long as I’m blamin’ my memory (or lack of one) on age, I’ll add on a few things. Age is to blame for me not being able to work as fast as I used to, and for not looking quite as graceful gettin’ on a horse. And thank heavens, age is to blame for me landin’ like a sack of flour when I fall off. I’m not to blame. The only thing I’ve done is not die yet, but the day is young. It’s ironic, I think, that with age I’ve lost some of the things that were dear to me in my youth, but having gained judgement from experience, maybe they weren’t really as essential as I thought back then. One thing is for sure: gettin’ old ain’t for the weak hearted. There are adjustments that have to be made in all areas of living. While I consider myself a young old guy, the numbers don’t have a cushion; they just are what they are. Talkin’ with the ex wife the other day I said, “I never thought I’d live this long” and she replied, “Yeah, and you almost didn’t.” I guess I’m gonna have to go with being grateful to still be “above ground” regardless of the challenges age brings. I’d better get to work. Now, if I could just remember what I was supposed to do ...? Watch yore topknot. Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com. The topknot, by the way, is the last knot tied on a pack saddle.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-keep-forging-ahead/</link>
        <title>James: Keep forging ahead</title>
        <description>du1-i-syn The New Mexico Cutting Horse Association held two cuttings in July at the Sky Ute Fairgrounds, and I think it would be fair to say that everyone had a blast. As for me, anytime you combine cows, good horses...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 20 Aug 2018 01:30:00 -0600</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[du1-i-syn Seems like we’ve had our share of “tribulation” – winter drought followed by summer fire – but through it all,with the help of dedicated firefighters and a slightly more generous weather pattern, the community has held together and forged ahead. Just like always. The New Mexico Cutting Horse Association held two cuttings in July at the Sky Ute Fairgrounds, and I think it would be fair to say that everyone had a blast. As for me, anytime you combine cows, good horses and pretty girls, I’m gonna call it a success. I took my dun horse and one of the colts I’m ridin’ and helped move cattle in and out and around. It’s great for the ponies and always sets my soul at ease. Like any sport, there’s a level of intensity with the trainers and owners, all wanting each and every horse to have the trip of a lifetime each time they show. Since this is not always the case, it was great to see how well everyone took it, one cow at a time. Some of the horses had outstanding showings, while others had “off days.” From my vantage point, it seemed as though everyone took it like our community has our tribulations, banding together with help and support and moving forward. I met a man who was a retired racehorse jockey, a big time jockey, rode more than once in the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, millions in career earnings, and just as nice and easy to be around as anyone I ever met. A couple of years ago, about this time of year, with summer easing out and fall and winter on the horizon, a woman from the horse community asked me, “What are you going to do now?” The meaning being, getting ready for winter. Not the biggest fan of winter, I’ve taken her kind words to heart and have started getting ready to have a warm place at night and in the morning. I guess there may be something to the saying, “you can’t be too prepared.” There are lots of “doins” before the big snow falls. I think I may ease around and take a look-see. Remember, just because my boots are dirty doesn’t mean they need a shine. And smile when you can, which is always. Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/on-ice-aka-la-migra/</link>
        <title>On ICE, aka ‘La Migra’</title>
        <description>Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn ICE, of course, stands for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It seems like these boys and girls have been really busy lately, ridding the country of people who pose a threat to our national security. Hogwash. In my...</description>
        <pubDate>Sun, 29 Jul 2018 21:20:29 -0600</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn ICE is handy if you want a cold drink, not so much if you’re driving on the highway or if you are from another country. ICE, of course, stands for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It seems like these boys and girls have been really busy lately, ridding the country of people who pose a threat to our national security. Hogwash. In my time, we just called them “La Migra,” and they didn’t dress like soldiers and carry automatic weapons. I have had the wonderful opportunity over the years to work with many people who may or may not have been “legal” residents. They were all hard-working, dependable men and women who were here because there was no way for them to make a living in their home countries. They came to the U.S. and gladly took jobs digging ditches or mowing grass or washing dishes, all jobs that are hard to fill with American workers. I look back with great pleasure at the number of times we outran, outmaneuvered or just flat out outsmarted La Migra. One time, I had seven men with me in a four-door truck – two in the front seat, three in the backseat and two in the bed of the pickup – and I was pulling a ditching machine. We were headed toward Arlington, Texas, on Interstate 30. I spotted a “puke green” car ahead of us and slowed down. The car slowed down, too. Pretty quickly, we were the only two rigs on the highway goin’ 30 miles per hour. I knew I couldn’t outrun them, but I wanted to give the guys a chance. I eased toward an exit ramp and La Migra took the bait. The car made a giant move to cut me off, so I just eased right around him and pulled over. Before I got stopped, the guy ridin’ shotgun already had the door open and was dragging his feet, looking toward the rear of the truck. For a second or two, it was like making Jiffy Pop popcorn, as all the boys made a run for it in every direction. La Migra agents were hot on their heels. There I was, on the side of highway with every door on the pickup but mine open and men runnin’ everywhere. They didn’t catch a one of them! An agent in a corduroy sports coat slipped on the grass and rolled down the hill like the top scoop of ice cream falling off a cone. He started cussing at me before he got all the way back up and came straight to the pickup and leaned in the passenger side door. Damn he was mad, but as he said, it was too much of a pain in the rear to arrest me. With some parting obscenities, the agents left. It took me four hours to find the guys, and none of us knew where the hell we were. I just looked for places that I’d hide in if I was in their shoes. Back on the road, we all had a great laugh! ICE can melt in hell. Meanwhile, watch yore topknot. Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-here-we-are-back-where-we-started/</link>
        <title>James: Here we are, back where we started</title>
        <description>The first hat I ever bought for myself was in 1966 and I was 8 years old. There was an “Army Navy” store in downtown Austin, Texas, and I figured they would have one. I had been scrapin’ change around...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 30 Apr 2018 05:05:06 -0600</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Hats, specifically Cowboy hats, been wearin’ ’em all my life. Started out with the little black, flat-crowned, flat-laced brim kids hat with a stampede string. I wore it proudly through my infant years. The first hat I ever bought for myself was in 1966 and I was 8 years old. There was an “Army Navy” store in downtown Austin, Texas, and I figured they would have one. I had been scrapin’ change around and rat-holin’ every dollar I could get my hands on and had $7. I figured that ought to do it. Bein’ just a touch on the independent side, I managed to get it bought. Cost me 6 of my $7. It was great, straw with a 4-inch brim and a RCA crease in the crown. The hat fit, but I looked like a really skinny standup lamp with a “huge” lampshade on it, but it didn’t matter to me, I was coool! I’ve owned hundreds over the years, straw and felt. Most of them store-bought but a couple custom-made. I heard early on that a cowboy decides pretty quick what kind of crease he’s gonna wear and sticks with it through his lifetime. I tried really hard to be one of those guys but just couldn’t make it happen; sometimes I just felt like something different. Once I learned how to crease one with steam, the “horse was out of the barn.” I’ve tried just about everything imaginable crease-wise, and at this stage of my life, I’ve gone for “simplicity.” Flat-crowned and flat-brimmed, with a stampede string. Sounds kinda familiar, don’t it? All those hats and all of those creases and here we are, back where we started. The “circle of life” perhaps? Perhaps. As David Allen Coe sang, “Drifter, can you make folks feel what you feel inside ’cause if you’re big-star bound, let me tell you, it’s a long hard ride.” Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com. The topknot, by the way, is the last knot tied on a pack saddle.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-being-good-just-like-you-are/</link>
        <title>James: Being good just like you are</title>
        <description>Tom James I’ve been draggin’ her around for years just ‘bong chinginin’ away whenever I could find somebody to tune her for me. I call her Bonnie, after Bonnie Parker of Bonnie &amp; Clyde infamy, mostly because Thelma and Louise...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 26 Mar 2018 05:03:57 -0600</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom James I have an old Gibson Epiphone guitar my second wife bought me because she didn’t want me breakin’ her Alvarez. I’ve been draggin’ her around for years just ‘bong chinginin’ away whenever I could find somebody to tune her for me. I call her Bonnie, after Bonnie Parker of Bonnie & Clyde infamy, mostly because Thelma and Louise are already taken by my pickup and car. My friend Burt Baldwin put a tunin’ on her a while back and I’ve been jammin’ my little hiney off. Havin’ more fun than a dog rollin’ in a dead skunk. Music, art and literature, amazing huh? I have to be honest and say I never paid much attention to them before now. The folks at the Herald and you folks readin’ have blown the barn door plumb off of my mind and opened it up to some really cool stuff and I’d like to say thanks. I have discovered that my thoughts, and all the stuff that rolls around in my head in a day, is unique, and it’s supposed to be. It’s what makes me, me. That bein’ said, then the same thing must be so for you. Instead of tryin’ real hard to fit in to the mold society has pre-arranged for us, how cool is it to just say “ Naw, I’m good just like I am.” It makes bein’ less judgmental easier. We’re all just cruisin’ along life’s highway tryin’ to do the best we can each day. Some days better than others, but it seems to even itself out if we stay the course. Life is big, and it’s supposed to be, each one unique to the owner. Read a book by an author you don’t know today, try a new type of food, listen to some music that’s new to you and if you get the chance, introduce yourself to someone that doesn’t look like you. All change isn’t bad, it’s just change. Thanks to you all for enlarging my mind and my world. Woody Guthrie sang it best; “This land is your land, this land is my land.” Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com. The topknot, by the way, is the last knot tied on a pack saddle.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-when-luck-is-just-luck/</link>
        <title>James: When luck is just luck</title>
        <description>Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn Good luck, bad luck, lot’s of luck, no luck, it seems there is no end. After as careful a review of my life up to now, as a brain-damaged old cowboy can make, I’ve come to terms with...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 05 Mar 2018 05:03:19 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn Do you ever think about luck? Man I do. It’s always there, mashed somewhere between love, snuff, horses and coffee. Good luck, bad luck, lot’s of luck, no luck, it seems there is no end. After as careful a review of my life up to now, as a brain-damaged old cowboy can make, I’ve come to terms with bein’ damned lucky. I’ve heard it said “you make your own luck” and I won’t argue that, but there are those times when luck is just luck. Like when the horse falls over on ya’ and the saddle horn unbuttons your shirt instead of crushing your chest or when the car in front of ya’ loses it on the ice and spins around to face you and at just the moment of impact it slides out of the way. Luck! Many years ago I did a pull in the “Nervous Hospital” (I’ve softened it up a little because a friend told me “Insane Asylum” made him uncomfortable) and while there, I met some folks who had not been quite as lucky as me. For whatever reason the universe sees fit, it had dealt these folks a mighty poor hand. Mental illness is a terrible thing, it robs those affected of life at its fullest, it robs the families of those affected many times of the love and companionship of a family member. The people affected don’t choose it, it’s just bad luck. My diagnosis was not mental illness but rampant stupidity. Treatable by a lifestyle change. That’s pretty damned lucky. I try to keep my life as simple as I can but life is still life, ups and downs. At those times when I’m feelin’ a little “short changed” I’ve learned to look back at just how lucky I really am and be grateful for it. As David Gilmour sings, “We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here.” Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com. The topknot, by the way, is the last knot tied on a pack saddle.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/riding-along-in-the-litter/</link>
        <title>Riding along in the litter</title>
        <description>Tom James Empty snuff cans. Cigarette butts. Old wire from replaced fence lines and an occasional tire. This day I saw something that just tickled the heck out of me. Two big paper coffee cups from one of the “fancy”...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 05 Feb 2018 05:05:35 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom James I was working my dun horse the other day, just easin’ along down the county road. You would be amazed at all that you can see on the ground from the back of a horse. Empty snuff cans. Cigarette butts. Old wire from replaced fence lines and an occasional tire. This day I saw something that just tickled the heck out of me. Two big paper coffee cups from one of the “fancy” coffee houses. There they were, in all their “made from 100% recycled paper from Indonesia” glory, on the roadside as trash. I’ll leave the coffee house nameless because it’s not their fault that some of their customers are hillbillies. And I don’t want to be the guy that sets off the three-day media frenzy about “Stardoodle’s” or “Delaware Jacks’” involvement in a litter scandal. I can see it though – the county road lined with news vans from all the alphabet networks and the one named after the animal. Men and women all dressed in Eddie Bauer dungarees​ with serious looks on their faces, interviewing locals and “experts” on litter. Statements read by well-dressed, serious looking spokespeople for the companies,stating that while “shareholders are proud of the steady profit increases, as one, they abhor and say no to wanton littering of any kind.” Yep, I can see it. Then three days later they’re all gone off to the next catastrophe, leaving behind all their three-day trash for old Dunny and me to look at as we ride. As Sheryl Crow sings,“If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad ...” Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-strong-words-and-actions/</link>
        <title>James: Strong words and actions</title>
        <description>Tom James They could and would no longer conform to tyranny and were willing to risk all for change. “We The People” are past the polite orderly chance for change. I hear people everywhere talk about all that needs changed,...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 15 Jan 2018 05:03:55 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom James Tyranny, conformity, risk and change are strong words. I imagine the men with powdered ponytails and short pants understood them all too well. They could and would no longer conform to tyranny and were willing to risk all for change. “We The People” are past the polite orderly chance for change. I hear people everywhere talk about all that needs changed, and I agree. But talk is cheap. Are you going to conform to the tyranny or are you willing to risk your home, car, smart phone, cable TV and 401-K plan to challenge it? We can’t have it both ways. Kind of scary huh? Too bad. We let it get this way, and if it’s going to change it may well cost us all everything we have. At the federal level, there are 327,127,513 (plus or minus) of us and just 537 of them, counting the president and the vice president. That breaks down to 601,721 to 1. I’d say we have them outnumbered. If the rules and standards are wrong, don’t abide them. Just because the politicians have found a use for them doesn’t mean they are in our best interest. And if each one of us does one thing a day to ignore government, it won’t take too long to get something reasonable back. They ain’t gonna like it, and there will be lots of strong talk – and possibly action – but we here now deserve it, and those coming along certainly do. Closer to home, La Plata county has a “land use” plan in the works, and it’s outrageously oppressive. The time for disobedience is upon us. This is not happening in Washington D.C., it’s happening here, where your homes, farms and ranches are. I urge you all to get involved and say no to oppressive county government. If they want a fight, let them bring it. We’ll all gather at your gate and wait for them. And they better pack a lunch. Together we can repel the tide of tyranny. Watch yore topknot ... Tom James of Ignacio was riding horses before he could walk. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/going-round-in-circles/</link>
        <title>Going ‘round in circles</title>
        <description>Tom James Buzz and I are loping great big one-eighth mile circles. He has his head down and just enough round in his back to make it comfortable for us both. I have the reins thrown to him and get...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 2018 05:03:21 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom James The sky is a beautiful blue, and there’s just enough chill in the air to make it fresh. Buzz and I are loping great big one-eighth mile circles. He has his head down and just enough round in his back to make it comfortable for us both. I have the reins thrown to him and get to thinking about culture. Culture. It’s a person, place or thing. A particular for or stage of civilization, as that of a certain nation or period. The United States of America has been around 241 years. Most of the other countries in the world have stuff in the back of their fridge older than that. It strikes me that we’re the youngsters, and as it so often is with youngsters, we seem to have a lot of great big ideas and ideals with all of 241 years to back them up. Have you ever run into someone that just learned something new and wanted to tell you about it? At length? Gets kind of tiring doesn’t it. Seems to me that’s where we are. Doing our dead level best to sell the rest of the world on the “two Cs” of Christianity and capitalism. We may be just a tad “wet behind the ears” to be pushing so hard. I wonder if that’s why the rest of the world seems to have their teeth bared at us? They may be tired of listening. But hell, what do I know? I’m just a guy going around in circles on the back of the most majestic beast on earth (mentioned in at least two of the top ten religion books). Do yourself a favor and color outside the lines today ... Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-gettin-all-wound-up/</link>
        <title>James: Gettin’ all wound up</title>
        <description>There’s a great Lynyrd Skynyrd song titled “Things going on.” It asks, “Have you ever lived down in the ghetto? Have you ever felt that cold wind blow? If you don’t know what I mean you better stand up and...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 25 Dec 2017 05:03:21 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[I just finished a great Zane Grey book, Riders of the Purple Sage, and am halfway through another titled Tonto Basin. They’re both great stories, and the main characters’ lives are influenced and directly affected by those in power. There’s a great Lynyrd Skynyrd song titled “Things going on.” It asks, “Have you ever lived down in the ghetto? Have you ever felt that cold wind blow? If you don’t know what I mean you better stand up and scream, ’cause there’s some things going on that you don’t know.” It was written 44 years ago. There are still things going on that we don’t know. Christmas is here, the heart of the “Holiday Season.” Lot’s of food and family and warmth. Just not for everyone. There are children in our country who go to bed hungry on a regular basis, who sleep in the cold when it’s cold. These children know more about life than any of our politicians with their one-liners and well-paid speechwriters. I’m not liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat. I’m just a man who’s sick and tired of all the political nonsense. When I see and talk to you guys and gals, it seems that you are, too. What are we gonna do? We the people don’t have to subserviently ask our government for anything. We can roar like a grizzly and demand it. We pay their bills. Before Washington spends a penny anywhere else, every child in our country should have a full belly and a warm place to live. On a regular basis. Well. Got kinda wound up, didn’t I? Must be time to get horseback. Keep the sun on whichever side of you sticks out the most ... Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-the-solar-eclipse-blues/</link>
        <title>James: The Solar Eclipse Blues</title>
        <description>Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn I had an event happen during the eclipse that inspired some thought and word. Music, too. I thought I’d share it with you, but it helps if you get a little bluesey beat going in your head. There,...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 04 Dec 2017 05:03:19 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn How about the solar eclipse? Quite the event; it always makes me smile when nature does something that makes mankind stand on its toes and say wow! I had an event happen during the eclipse that inspired some thought and word. Music, too. I thought I’d share it with you, but it helps if you get a little bluesey beat going in your head. There, you got it now: I got a bloody spot on my elbow, There’s another on my hand. When l look down at my boots, There’s blood drippin’ on the sand. Refrain: I don’t remember, I don’t remember, It appears things may have gone wrong. I just don’t remember ... There’s a filly in the round corral, And judging by my dress I must be a bronc rider, But it’s anybody’s guess. Refrain That filly’s lookin’ right at me With a bad look in her eye, I guess I should be grateful That I didn’t die. Refrain Well, I finally got my breath back, Thought about it hard and long. The only thing I remember is I got to get back on! That I remember, though It appears that things have gone wrong. That, I remember, I just have to get right back on. Philosophically, I think it speaks to not giving up when life gets hard (which it does at times). On a slightly grittier note, it speaks to not riding colts during the apex of a solar eclipse. The energy gets pretty wild. I still don’t remember, but my wounds have healed. I love what I do ... Ignacio’s Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-humility-a-life-lesson/</link>
        <title>James: Humility – a life lesson</title>
        <description>Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn One of the greatest things about doing what I do now is that I don’t have to keep up with the calendar. The down side is that I seldom have any idea of what day of the week...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 20 Nov 2017 05:03:45 -0700</pubDate>
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        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn Back when I worked for other people, it seemed really important to know what day of the week it was. How close are we to Friday and the weekend? One of the greatest things about doing what I do now is that I don’t have to keep up with the calendar. The down side is that I seldom have any idea of what day of the week it is. In my younger days, I could just get up and go in the morning. These days, not so much. Gotta have a little wake up time with coffee. Feed the dog and horses, brush my teeth, comb my hair. The last thing I do is take my meds. Aspirin used to be enough; not anymore. There’s one of the “don’t kill me” pills, one of the “don’t kill you” pills and a big handful of the “don’t flop on the floor like a fish out of water.” I don’t know how I got here other than just bein’ hard to kill. Thank goodness someone invented the seven-day pill dispenser with S-M-T-W-T-F-S on the compartment lids. At least now I get some kind of an idea what day of the week it is. Now that I know about what day it is, it’s been great. Horses are all making progress, clients are happy, weather has been perfect and there was a semi-flirtatious conversation with the waitress at the cafe. “Nirvana” life is good. When I get home, I see that my zipper is down or I’m dragging a footlong piece of toilet paper off a boot heel or I have one of those “ flapper” boogers stuck in my nose that comes out every time I breathe. Humility; one of life’s more entertaining lessons. The horses are gonna be here 60 days, so I’m bound to see the clients again. It’s 20 miles to the next town that has a cafe. Nothing left to do but just suck it up and face them all again. Like I tell me, “don’t get greedy.” And be sure to check your zipper, heel and nose ... Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/heroes-idols-mentors/</link>
        <title>Heroes, idols, mentors</title>
        <description>du1-i-syn As the song says, my heroes have always been cowboys. Mine were a bunch of horse trader, beer-drinkin’ “ne’r-do-wells”. Probably not quite as criminal as Martha Stewart, but running a close second. Their favorite activity was to buy or...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2017 09:03:30 -0700</pubDate>
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        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=47653C58-A037-4CFD-962B-57EB065B1338&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[du1-i-syn Did you ever have an idol as a kid? Someone that looked and acted just like you hoped you would? I did, and I have the scars to prove it. As the song says, my heroes have always been cowboys. Mine were a bunch of horse trader, beer-drinkin’ “ne’r-do-wells”. Probably not quite as criminal as Martha Stewart, but running a close second. Their favorite activity was to buy or trade for one of those cross-eyed, tip-of-one-ear-gone-from-frostbite horses with the social skills of an alligator with a sore tooth and bring it for me to ride. It was a time when “men” didn’t shrink from a challenge. I wanted to be one, so I didn’t either. It was great! They’d get the horse blindfolded or maybe a leg kinda tied up, or just mugged down. All I had to do was get on. They would turn loose and start looking for a safer place to be. Sometimes the party would get started pretty quick. You would be amazed at how much you can see in a short period of time – horse, ground, sky, horse, ground, sky – all the while trying to make it look natural and pretty so they’d think I knew what I was doing. There were some that just bucked me off, others that fell over backwards and some whose front legs would fold up and sent me flyin’ like a “breaker marble” out of a bear-killing slingshot. Thankfully, there were those that didn’t buck me off, fall over backwards or try to bite my shirt off. When it got time to get off of one of these, it would be to thunderous applause from a group of men who, with the help of Adolph Coors, could no longer pronounce their own names. Today they call it mentoring: a group of selfless people from all walks of life trying to show young people that it is possible to succeed in life. And by doing that, they are helping not only the young people but humanity as a whole. While I wouldn’t trade for mine, neither would I recommend it. Always check your cinch before you get on .... Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/james-on-conflict-resolution/</link>
        <title>James: On conflict resolution</title>
        <description>du1-i-syn I was raised the only boy in families that numbered ten sisters. There were some “steps” and “halfs” in the count, but still it was ten to one. I had my own mom and two step moms. I’ve been...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 23 Oct 2017 05:03:36 -0600</pubDate>
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        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=A337205D-06EF-47BB-9E26-700E2440AC11&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[du1-i-syn Women. My favorite kind of people. I like the way they look, the way they talk, the way they think and, if memory serves me, the way they feel. I was raised the only boy in families that numbered ten sisters. There were some “steps” and “halfs” in the count, but still it was ten to one. I had my own mom and two step moms. I’ve been married twice and had a hand (be it small) in raising three daughters. Ladies, I love you all. Which brings me to conflict resolution, because the two greatest acts of conflict resolution I have ever witnessed involved women. Wikipedia defines it as such: “Conflict resolution is conceptualized as the methods and processes involved in facilitating the peaceful ending of conflict and retribution.” Two five syllable words in one sentence. Imagine that. Both of these acts were back in the “drinkin’ days.”The first came as I was “resting” in the pickup in the bar parking lot. Two women came out by themselves. said some really unflattering things to each other and then “got after it.” There was hair pulling and eye gouging and a couple of shots below the belt. It took a while but finally a victor emerged. She pulled her shirt back down,fluffed her hair, checked her makeup in the car window and strolled back into the bar. Conflict resolved. The second was in Silver City, N.M. after the rodeo. In the bar a small skirmish escalated to twenty men brawling on the dance floor. Quite a sight to see. Things had just gotten kind of settled down when one of the “town” women came in screaming and hollering, worried about her man. One of the “rodeo” women took about ten steps and met the “screamer” with a hard right hand. She went down like a bag of oats. Conflict resolved. I doubt that any of those four wonderful women remember those “facilitations of conflict and retribution,” but they have been bright spots in my memory for decades now. Many thanks ladies. Until the next solar eclipse... Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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        <link>https://www.durangoherald.com/articles/columnists/whos-got-room-for-hate/</link>
        <title>Who’s got room for hate?</title>
        <description>Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn I began to see that I was processing information I was being given and having an emotional response to it. The catch was that the information I was being given was erroneous. I was being played. Man, that...</description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 02 Oct 2017 05:03:24 -0600</pubDate>
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        <media:thumbnail url="https://imengine.public.prod.dur.navigacloud.com/?uuid=0EF8F10A-64A4-4892-A619-CF05EF783D4F&#038;function=thumbnail&#038;type=preview&#038;source=false&#038;width=600&#038;height=400" />
        <content:encoded><![CDATA[Tom Jamesdu1-i-syn Back when I was a “citizen,” I had some pretty strong opinions about things. As time passed, I started questioning my own opinions. Where did they come from and why? I began to see that I was processing information I was being given and having an emotional response to it. The catch was that the information I was being given was erroneous. I was being played. Man, that was a relief. I realized that I really didn’t have to care if English was the national language or if there was a wall at the Mexican or Canadian borders or that George W. Bush got to be president because his daddy had been director of the CIA and had “boogers” on everyone in the world. It was all like a Saturday morning cartoon. I saw an article about some real ugly racial stuff that happened not long ago and it made me wonder: How can a person function with a brain so small that it tells him or her to hate others for the color of their skin or the language they speak, who they sleep with or what prophet of god they follow? It’s a wonder to me that they can get their zippers down before they pee. Hard to imagine, ain’t it? I don’t have much room for hate, although I do have a strong dislike for weak coffee, stirrups that are too short or wearing socks a second day on different feet. For the “haters,” best of luck shrinking life down small enough for your brains to savvy. In the words of Bob Dylan, “Every distance is not near ...” Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at outlivedthemallsofar@gmail.com.]]></content:encoded>
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