Thursday, April 10, 2014

15 Passenger

So, for those of you who don't know me, I have a confession: I am a scrap booker! I mean, I keep everything from movie tickets to banquet booklets to newspapers. Today, I was catching up on some scrap booking from last fall, and I came across a few pictures that really made me tear up.

 After spending a few minutes pasting pictures, I sat back and relished the memories I've made over the past four years. (I had to pick up my cap and gown yesterday, and that was super depressing. Ever since then I've been thinking back to my years of college and how FAST they go).

Of all the memories I have, some of the sweetest are from the inside of a 15 passenger van, cruising the country with self-proclaimed livestock enthusiasts, not really knowing if we were searching for a trophy or just wanting to see history in the makings.
I found a picture I have on my phone of pitch black darkness. At first, I couldn't remember why it was still on my phone. Then, I remembered the night I took it - intentionally. We were driving to Austin, Minnesota, it was awfully late at night and my team was singing 1970's country songs in the van, as we were driving through the open fields of Iowa. I remember thinking how blessed I was and that nothing in the world could have been better than sharing the inside of that 15 passenger van that smelled like hog poop. 

To some, it's a big white van with a school logo on the outside. To livestock judgers, it's signing to Elvira, sharing a prayer, wiping a tear, and filling blank pages with the words of your heart. It's learning about each others passions, while discovering your own.

I know for those in junior college, your season is over. My one word of advice would be to continue onward. Don't stop after junior college, judge on into senior college if your heart pulls you that way.

Finally, here's a poem one of my teammates wrote about another "odd" object that means more to judgers, the steno. Happy Thursday!

The Steno
By: Bo Hutto

The steno, a 99 cent purchase from a local store,
A 99 cent investment, worth so much more.

The steno, comes in different sizes, shapes and hues,
It doesn't know it, but it'll soon be abused.

It'll get wrinkled, crinkled, weathered and smushed,
It'll be dropped in the mud and stuck in your tush.

The steno, use a clip so your pages don't flap,
You'd be lost without it, but you still treat it like crap.

It's use is unrestricted, it's use for more than just notes,
It can stir ewes, drive hogs, and straighten up stantion fighting goats.

The steno, a judgers best tool,
Used for evaluating critters with hide, hair, and wool.

The steno, can't blame it for a loss, but it's vital for a win,
It's infinitesimal wisdom relies on who holds the pen.

The steno, from all over the country, it's seen some stock,
Yet, it travels in your suitcase next to a dirty sock!

It's traveled many of hours down i-10,
And stayed many of nights at the Holiday Inn.

When you work up your set, it'll keep you honest and true,
It'll get you strange looks from a stranger or two.

Moral of the story, treat the steno with class.
Keep it close to your heart, even when stuck in your....tush.

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