From Within So Without Part 2. What is a Cow Shower?

Meanwhile, at the house, my family frantically packed their bags and loaded the car with whatever they might need for who knows how long? Leaving my cousin, Roger, behind to watch the dogs, my husband and my parents loaded into my mom's car and sped to Augusta, a 2 and 1/2 hour drive away. Well, if you drive the way my dad drives, it's faster. My husband offered to drive, but my dad, who is usually happy to let Tom drive (there are 5 Tom's in my family, so it gets confusing to just say Tom) said, "I'm driving."

My husband, Tom, has been in farming his whole life, he raised and showed cattle from childhood, and he is also an excellent horseman. We have known eachother since we were children, became friends in our 20's, and in our 40's thought, "Maybe we should date". Within months of dating we were engaged, and months after that, married. While we were still dating, we went to the National Stock and Western in Denver for the annual cattle show. Their farm was competing, and I was excited to finally understand what Tom did, and how the business worked. He would never explain it. He always said "You have to see it." And I am telling you, you have to see it. No matter what walk of life you are from, it is fascinating. You have to see it. His mom's farms showed mainly Angus cattle, Tom showed Angus and some Red Angus, and Tom's father still shows Shorthorns.

We arrived in Denver under dreary January skies that menaced snow, but it was too warm to snow. We took a cab to our hotel and checked in, changed and headed out for dinner. The next morning, I was riddled with anticipation, having no idea what on earth I would see, learn and do that day. I was like a kid going to Disney, and as this is before pot, like a child going to Disney, I was full of questions. He kept patiently saying "You have to see it. You just have to see it." As usual, he was right.

First off, we got these cool exhibitor pins at the check in window. Then as you walked up the stairs in the old exhibitor hall, it was huge, with rows and rows of booths with people selling everything from massage chairs to frogs, to belts and clothing to house decor. If you had come to Denver and forgotten an item for your RV, you could find it and the National Western! Heck, you could decorate the whole RV there, and buy the RV, and a trailer for your cattle to boot! You could even fill the closets with new wardrobes! You could even buy the cattle both there, and at the baseball stadium! This thing is a lifetime must see! It is not your typical trade show, where people are selling business card holders when business cards are going digital. It is useful items for an industry that is still useful.

We then walked over to the competition ring, It's kind of a cross between a barn and an arena. The main arena is set up in "barn decor" is the best I can describe, but there are concrete bleachers with chairs, or benches, like you would find in a high school baseball stadium, but inside. The show is kind of like a dog show. The owners or handlers parade the animals around the ring, the judges judge, and badda boom badda bing, we have a winner! Except, I never really could see the difference between the winner and the loser, even Libby (Tom's mom), who kept her husbandry skills until she could not speak, could never call who they would pick. There's science to it. There's weight, parentage, have they had a baby, what kind of mother were/are they, do they produce milk, etc. All that should be its own score and the judges should be a small factor in that. In the years we went, it became more obvious how much of a rigged game it was. Even my husband saw how rigged it was in the end. Kind of like our elections, it just became too obvious.

Next we headed to what I would call the staging area. This is where each farm has stalls and they house their animals there throughout the competition. The space is a ginormous warehouse with a lowish roof, about 1 story, full of cows! The floor is covered in straw, but you need to have on boots that can be cleaned to walk around in here! Each farm, is set up into their own area/sort of an open air pen, with "walk ways" between them, so you can walk up and down the stalls and inspect all the competition if you want to, These open pens house the cows waiting to compete. In the pens, each farm has teams of people, busy blow drying a heifer or two, while someone else is hairspraying a tail, another person is licking their fingers to flatten a cowlick, on a cow! This is serious business!

Speaking of cows, do you know the difference between a heifer and a cow? A heifer is childless up until the age of two, after that she's a cow (kind of the old maid for heifers I guess). Saying she is a cow, though, could also mean she has had a baby, before the age of two.

After the staging area, we walked down a long huge hallway, bigger than one you would see in a stadium, but instead of people, it was full of people walking cows, or heifers, or whatever they were. There's no way to tell, you just have to know. As we are walking down the cow hallway, I look to my left and there is this huge room, covered in white tile, kind of like a gang shower, but LOTS bigger and for heifers/cows. The people were scrubbing the cows/heifers, getting them ready for teams in the next room that we had just seen. I said, "Oh look, a cow shower!" and my now husband, then boyfriend, wryly said, "it's called a wash rack."

...

Kyle was right, I don't remember the flight or much else about that night. I remember being escorted to a large white tiled, shower room. It was brightly lit, and as I stood there naked in that big shower room, I was scrubbed with hard brushes. It was prickly and uncomfortable enough to rouse me from my daze, but not painful in memory. They told me they had to get the dead skin off as quickly as possible after a burn accident. All I could think was, "This really is a cow shower!"

There are so many "Thank God's" in all of this. Thank God, I changed clothes; the people at the burn unit told me the sleeves, and high neck on my cover up would have melted into my skin causing further damage. Thank God for my black inflammable house dress; anything made today, would have caught fire and melted to my skin. Thank God, I had my mother follow me out there, so I was in flames for mere seconds rather than longer. Thank God my mom was quick on her feet and hoisted my dress over my head. Thank God she did not go first and try to light the grill; I could not have lived with the guilt. Thank God, I had taken a breath before I lit the grill; had I gasped rather than screamed, I would have sucked fire into my mouth and down my throat and into my lungs. Thank God! Thank God for Augusta Burn Center...