My parents moved us all to Idaho when I was about eight-years-old. I think they wanted us to be surrounded by people with strong roots, strong foundations, strong faith. And we were. It was a time when kids could not only walk to the park alone, but spend the whole day there playing, swimming, roaming, just enjoying the sun and the freedom. It was a time when we weren't bogged down by homework or 80-hour work weeks, but we learned to work by using our hands--planting gardens, moving irrigation pipe, sorting potatoes. It was a time when we had Christmas pageants and the Lord's Prayer and the Star Spangled Banner--all at school. The agenda of the teachers was to teach. To teach the kids about who they were and who they could become. And they were examples of goodness themselves. Our US government teacher, Robert Andrus, (Cowboy Bob) was one of these teachers.
He was known as "Uncle Bob" to many, but we also called him Cowboy Bob because he wore cowboy boots and a cowboy shirt and bolo tie every day. And of course he sported his fantastic belt buckle, nearly the size of a license plate--we used to say that was the reason he wore boots each day, because there was no way he could bend over that buckle to tie shoes. That was his daily look (except the two days of the year when he wore what could only be described as his autumn hippy tunic--the only time he wore short sleeves, too) finished off with a big grin. We thoroughly enjoyed his class. And not necessarily because of the subject matter, although he made that interesting enough for a bunch of teen-agers. But it was his unbelievable mastery of the English language from his own perspective.
Yes, we actually wrote down his words (not as in note-taking) and phrases, along with definitions either gained from context or from just asking him what in the world "cut the water off at the pass" meant. It means to stop talking, by the way. Of course, we had to preserve his language, not only for the fascinating linguistic experience that it was, but for future government students, as well. So, we put it together in a hand book and sold it for two dollars a piece at lunch time.
Well, Cowboy Bob passed away this week. He was one of those men my parents meant for us to be surrounded by--solid, strong, and faithful. And there's nothing like a funeral to bring old friends back together with old memories. Cowboy Bob, as people gather in their "Sunday go to meeting clothes" to pay you tribute one more time, this is dedicated to you--for the many hours of entertainment you gave us then and rekindled now.
Cowboy Bob's "Bob-Lingo" Handbook (1985)
