Spirit renewed in a land where "One nation under God" meant something.
Old Glory rippled proudly in the evening wind, sun on her face, mountains behind beckoning those from distance lands to join and witness a sport that some may argue defines America.
As if trained to be in unison hats were removed and heads were bowed as the historical anthem was sweetly sung by a local rising voice.
An excited crowd waited in anticipation knowing that momentarily man and animal would seemingly become one as they race around the ring to showcase skills that seem to be innate.
It was a time where generations were defined by moments of greatness.
Around the outskirts of the ring banners of local supporters hung on peripheral rails as a sign of traditional acknowledgement.
A seasoned voice introduced each rider like a father proudly sharing the accomplishments of his young son.
With unwavering determination cowboys and cowgirls displayed skills that intoxicated the crowd for hours that seemed to pass by as minutes.
Each proudly wearing worn Wranglers, secured with a silver belt buckle, starched shirt, leather boots, and a hat.
One stood out, a simple man, face weathered, muscles cloaked by plaid, and the name of Jesus Christ embroidered on the collar.
As the sun set, events rounded up, winners were recognized, patriotic hymns filled the air space, and as if on cue, "Spacious skies" were illuminated by bursts of color.
Familiar words were then sung and eyes filled with tears. "Proud to be an American" took on a new meaning... Indelible images of our country's forefathers chilled the skin of young and old confirming what was meant by "Liberty and Justice for all."
