B.O.L.O.G.N.A.

I figured that I would post this story I wrote about my grandpa a few years ago as a freshman in college...

B.O.L.O.G.N.A.

            I open my fridge and grab the bologna and mayo. Carry it over to the counter in my dorm and set it down next to the two slices of white bread. As I spread the mayo onto a slice of bread I can almost taste the sandwich in my mouth. I slip a slice of bologna on the bread and put the other slice on top, creating almost the perfect sandwich. I take a bite and all the hunger and stresses fall away as I picture myself a five year old little girl in Emery County.

“Jayden, Tanesha, wake up!” my grandmother calls from the kitchen. Tanesha and I walk into the kitchen still groggy and more like zombies than like actual mortal human beings. My grandma stands over the stove as she fries two eggs. Toast pops up from the toaster next to her; she quickly grabs the toast and lightly butters it as if to be in a race against the cooling toast. She then opens the cupboard and grabs two plates, slaps a piece of toast and an egg on each of them, and slides them across the table towards us; just as my grandpa walks in the back door. “What time is it?” Tanesha asks. “4.a.m.” my grandpa answers in an almost chipper voice. “The horses are saddled and into the trailer” he says. “So you better hurry and eat breakfast cause were burning daylight” as if to be imitating his favorite actor John Wayne.

My grandmother walks to the fridge and pulls out the mayo and bologna. She spreads the mayonnaise across two slices of bread and then puts a piece of bologna on top followed by the other pieces of bread. My grandpa grabs some soda and water and puts them in a cooler full of ice. Me and Tanesha quickly finish our breakfast and run to our room to get dressed. We walk back into the kitchen, the sound of our spurs strapped to our boots clank and chime together echoing throughout the house, just as my grandma throws six bologna sandwiches into the cooler full of ice and pop. “Were ready!” we both yell as we walk towards the front door. “Alright lets go” my grandpa yells back at us. We run out the door with our grandparents shortly behind us carrying the cooler. We jump in the truck and head towards Cedar Mountain.

            As we arrive, multiple familiar faces great us. Trucks and trailers line the side of the dusty path. Horses stomp the ground as if to say let’s go we’re ready, just as my grandparents un- hook the trailer from the truck. An hour later the sound of cows mooing and whooping and hollering from the riders fill the chill morning air, just as the sun peaks over the mountain. Tanesha and I riding side by side are a few steps behind our grandpa, and being followed by our grandma in the truck. As the day progresses the sun continues to get hotter and hotter and the dust begins to pick up. Tanesha and I do our best in our part of keeping the herd together. Every so often little calves stray from the herd and we would take it upon ourselves to drive them back.

Noon hits and we have a little less than 2 miles to go before we get to the spot we will eat lunch. As Tanesha and I look ahead we notice that we are about to walk down what seems to be the steepest, and most jagged hill, if you could call it that, on the mountain. As start down the narrow steep hill my grandpa looks back and says “Loosen up and let the horse go, he knows what he is doing he can see the rocks, don’t worry.” “Okay whatever you say,” Tanesha and I hesitantly answer. Just when it seems like the trail will never end we slowly get to level ground and where we are going to stop and eat lunch. My grandma taking the long way around with the truck slowly pulls up, and the dust settles right as she steps out of the truck. My grandpa helps her lift the cooler full of drinks, ice, and bologna sandwiches out of the back of the truck. They set it down right as Tanesha and I quickly run over and attack the cooler. We tear into the sandwich bags as if we hadn’t eaten in days. As I take that first bite, all the hard work and dust of the day seem to fade away and my hunger disappears.

Just then I seem to wake up from my day dream and realize that I’m sitting in a dorm room in Logan, Utah. My math homework lies on the desk half-finished as I sit and think about the day dream I just had and about those many bologna sandwiches, day long cattle drives, and life lessons. I realize just how they influenced my life, let me discover my passion for agriculture, and ultimately how they brought me to Utah State in order for me to chase my dream of being an Agricultural Educator; and to pass the passion I have for Agriculture on to my future students’.   

I sure miss you grandpa!!