On the ranch, being a good neighbor means so much
Out here on the ranch there are millions of tasks that require the proper attire. When I was growing up I don't think I ever saw our neighbor out of his Carhart bibs during the winter months. He would come in for a visit and sit at the kitchen table for an hour or so looking prepared to get up and go at any moment. Which he is — prepared, reliable and fearless. We know, because we've tested him.
Neighbor Kelly was the go-to guy to call when Dad wasn't home for emergencies like a loose horses, broken appliances and keys locked in cars when you're late for a meeting. Just a mile away, Kelly is quick on response time, too, there in a flash with a coat hanger and a plan. And depending on the season, his Carharts and wool cap.
Oh, Kelly's collected hundreds of rescues like this throughout the years because when you live in the middle of nowhere, being a good neighbor means wearing a dozen different hats.
So Kelly is a locksmith, yes, but he also earned his exterminator badge that time he tackled the suspected pack rat problem by camping out on the living room floor with Dad, pellet guns pointed at the cabinet under the sink waiting for the signal.
And when Mom found herself a snapping turtle in the garage, Kelly was there to assist in a plan to wrangle it back to the dam.
Kittens stuck behind the refrigerator? Call Kelly — he's more agile and can fit back there.
Seating for hundreds needs to be built for your daughter's wedding in your cow pasture? Kelly's got a hammer and a case of beer.
Cows need to be moved? Kelly'll be there early with a horse and maybe his bullwhip just for kicks 'cause he might get a chance to climb that big butte and snap it like the Man from Snowy River.
Because Kelly's the guy who's entertaining like that. He's the sweetest harmony in the band, the best dressed and the only one who can yodel.
He's the guy you call if you want an epic sledding party because he's got an unmatched dedication to fun that sends him out there for hours with a shovel clearing a fast course, complete with a jump at the bottom and a campfire at the top and a new snowboard waiting to send him to the emergency room.
Most notably though, he's the Lefty to the Poncho that is my father. When Dad called us in the middle of the night, unknowingly staring death in the face, we called the ambulance and then we called Kelly.
And when they airlifted Dad to Bismarck for an emergency surgery during an ice storm, Kelly drove the three hours on those roads behind us to sit with us in the waiting room. Recently, when Dad was in the hospital in Minneapolis, Kelly made that trip too, and a trip almost every day now down the road a mile to see his friend as he recovers.
And I can't imagine this place without Kelly up the road.
I'm just hoping it warms up so he can take those Carharts off soon.