I don't remember when I started to watch cowboy movies on television. Channel 26 carries all of the old westerns, on Saturday, and my son John teases me about having seen them at least a dozen times, or even more. He is right, I have seen some of them but every now and then one surprises me and I have not seen it, like, "The Man From the Alamo" with Glenn Ford. It was a great story and I enjoyed it.
I think my love of cowboy tales goes back to when I was much younger and fell in love with the handsome cowboy who was always gentle and saved the day. The fact that he kissed his horse and not the girl never dawned on me that he was just shy, but then he walked hand in hand with the girl at the end of the movie so there was hope for him.
Living in Nevada close to the little town of Genoa, pictured above, was as close as I got to the real thing. Nevada is filled with open ranches, long roads leading to the Sierra mountains where you can still follow the old wagon train trails. It is hot, dry and rugged still, yet filled with beauty that takes your breath away. Maybe that is why I loved living there. I was a part of a western movie.
I hope you join me for an occasional western and find excitement and contentment in the history of the west. Via Condeous.
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