Michael,

Last Friday I was invited to a 60th birthday party of one of my climbing buddies, Fred T.  Fred and I climbed together at Great Falls (in VA) and Seneca Rocks (WV) for many years.  Then he went west to Boulder, and started climbing the big stuff.  I visited him several times, and we climbed all manner of cliffs and mountains.  Then Fred had a sudden change of lifestyle. He wrangled at a dude ranch with a few 100 horses for some years, and started “horse whispering”. He could get a “raw” horse to be ride-able without any beating or pain.  Now he has that as a side business in addition to his LEED consulting work.

Fred’s party was cowboy dress-up, and after scarfing down the grub, we were supposed to read “Cowboy Poetry”.  So I read a cowboy poem, which I had written up the previous day. There were lots of smiles on Fred & Sandy’s faces, so I guess it worked.

(Greg is Fred’s son, and Sandy is his horseback-riding wife.)

For Fred on his 60th

Young Fred in the ’80s was a honcho of stone and the ropes
When I met him ascending Great Falls’ steepest slopes.

Soon he was leading me up Seneca’s hard limestone routes
And I followed him, sure, but I quaked in my boots.

All too soon Fred moved out West where mountains are high,
Both summer and winter he soloed right into the sky.

He invited me out and we scaled Crestone Peak,
The cliffs were so sheer my “Up Rope” was a squeak.

We simul-climbed Spearhead with Greg’s expert help,
Then we shimmied up Sharkstooth, which we topped with a yelp.

He led me up peaks with black ice and Big Air;
I reckon that’s why I’ve lost most of my hair.

While I worked to retire and settle into the west,
Cowboy Fred took up horses with vim, vigor and zest.

Sandy his sweetheart has softened Fred’s edges,
Riding into his life, she lured him down from the ledges.

At last I reached Boulder with freedom to potter
And Fred borrowed some horses for me and my daughter.

Our horses liked trotting but enjoyed a good lope,
My trotting is spotty, but with lopes I can’t cope.

Of old there were moments I’d match Fred’s moves on the rocks,
But his moves on a horse really knocked off my socks.

And now that old Fred’s reached late middle age,
Let’s doff him our hats as he rides off in the sage.

9/23/07