There Aren't Many Cowboys Left

My Grandpa, Lee Foster Brimhall, was one of them.

And he was a poet, gardner, contractor...

I remember when my family and I lived in Boston, and he came to visit, along with Grandma.
He was 77 years old then.
He built me a swing in my 'fort' and was doing chin-ups to make sure it was secure and safe.
Even a week and a half ago, all he wanted was 'a damn Whataburger'.
Pretty much the coolest old dude the world has ever met.

He passed away yesterday, early in the morning.  

Steven and I were, I believe, the last people in this life to say good bye.
It have never felt so much love in my life.

I kept saying, "Go, Grandpa.  We are all okay here."

I also told him that I would tell my children (when they get here) how awesome he was.  

Along with my sister Emily (her blog) my cousin, Autumn (her blog), I am going to post one of his poems.

Cowboy Contractor

Lee Brimhall

One time I was mauled by a big dehorned bull

And he broke me up pretty bad.

My pelvis was shattered and knocked out of place

And eighteen cracked ribs, then, I had.

The bones knitted up together again

And pain was the usual thing.

It was hard to work.  Quite often it hurt.

A new kind of life it did bring.

But I kept on working in the building trade.

It was hard to keep up my end.

When we had to lift and raise a wall

It hurt to stoop over and bend.

So I just kept going as well as I could

I surely could not lift much weight.

I’d bend over slow and not lift up quick

The boss it sure did agitate.

He’d yak at me some like I was a big boob

And not giving it a good try.

If I didn’t shape up I‘d get a pink slip

And then would tell me good bye.

So I told the boss, “I know what you think,

I’m lazy, my load I won’t pull.

You’d understand if you’d been hit in the butt

By a fifteen hundred pound bull.”

So that’s when I studied and passed the test

A contractor, then, I became.

I’d run my own job and also a crew,

Work got done though, my back was lame.

I built spec houses for a living, then,

And moon-lighted cows on Burro Creek

To do something useful along with some fun

Is the main thing I did seek.

That’s how I got started making houses to sell

And trying to do cowboying, too.

With this kind of program there’s not much slack time

And usually there’s plenty to do.

So I’ll just keep plugging and struggling along

Looks like I will work till I die.

I guess I’ll retire about six feet down

When I’ve said my last goodbye.

He was the most hard-working, loyal man I have ever met (besides my own father who inherrited this quality). 
I love you Grandpa. 
I will miss you.
I will tell EVERYONE how awesome you were!

Lee Foster Brimhall
1919-2011