More and more I keep seeing and hearing people referring to people they disagree with or who are doing things they think are crazy as mentally ill. I do it myself. But mostly they aren't mentally ill and we do a real disservice to those that are mentally ill when we use that label indiscriminately. But I don't know what else to call them. The things they do are "crazy" in my eyes and I can't for the life of me figure out why any sane person would do or say those things. I honestly don't know what else to call them. Bully, jerk, stupid, etc just don't work. Those words don't cover the degree of what I think of as crazy or worse.

I was a kid in the 50s. The TV Cow Boys of that era taught me everything I needed to know about responsibility, bravery, good citizenship, community, leaderships, and, I suspect a whole lot more. From Lash Larue to Sky King, from The Lawman to Cheyenne, from The Big Valley to the Ponderosa, from Wagon Train to Rawhide I was taught to trust The Hat to take care of whatever was needed to be done (except for the bad guys, of course, life was simpler then.)

Then life happened and that trust began to have a few dents. Nothing serious, but over the years a few nicks and chips. Walker, Texas Ranger was probably the first time I allowed true, deep distrust to creep into my faith in the hat. Ammon Bundy and his crew did a pretty good job of making me think twice about the myths, but still, I could persist in holding onto the basics.

I seriously needed those beliefs that churned around The Cow Boy Hat. They were foundational philosophy. Everything sort of sat on top of them.

Those hats are shot full of holes now. The philosophy and beliefs that went with them are like like horse shit on a dusty dirt street. Just something to step around.

How I will fill those empty spaces I'm not sure. They are very old and very deep in my psyche as they are for many, many others.

The children killed I will mourn today and tomorrow and beyond. The Cow Boy Hat myths I will probably still be mourning on my death bed. Deep in my psyche there are some very large, empty holes.

I hate growing up, but I hate it even more when I'm in my mid 70s. I will need to fill in those empty holes. I just know it won't be with cow boy hats.

I know I'm not the only one. Over the years I've found myself time and again being the voice of ordinary people. So I'll suck it up once again and speak about what I fear are unpopular topics. These feelings need a voice.