As we sat curled up on the sofa watching Cowboys and Aliens on the laptop, I commented that I just didn’t think I’d cut it back in the Wild West days.
In the movie, there is the hero dude walking across the middle of nowhere carrying the heroine who’s got to weigh at least 120 pounds and he seems to know where he’s going, he’s not acting concerned about the lack of water, food or shelter. He’s just steadfastly moving alone with an aura of confidence in his mission. Of course, he does get worn out and she doesn’t fare so well, but still…I don’t know if I’d have been able to pull that off.
I can’t help but imagine myself in the same setting. I’d be concerned about how heavy she was. About water. Food. And getting wet. I don’t want to be sopping wet and then cold later on while sleeping. AND, what about bullets. Everybody is busy shooting their guns. Where the heck do they get more bullets.
I just don’t think I’d make it in the setting I was watching.
My husband put a hand around my arm and said, “It’s just a movie, honey”.
But the funny thing is – I still feel like there are people out there who are THAT tough – lots of them. And I don’t think they include me.
My hands get cold. I get bad coughs that I can’t shake. I get really concerned about clean drinking water. I’m not terribly strong. And I don’t like having cold feet.
The even funnier thing is, is that I have this faint suspicion that some of my friends and relatives might describe me as tough. There are a few things I’ve done that might possibly qualify, but because they are part of my path, they just don’t seem so tough – more just my kind of normal.
But I still don’t think I have what it takes to be a real frontiersman.
Or maybe I do. I can’t help but think that if I lived back then, I might just be one of the people that leaves my home to check out some new adventure – like a gold mining town. I’m not super rugged, but I imagine there might be a place for me. What would I be?
Maybe a cobbler or an ironsmith, except that I’d probably have to be stronger than I am.
Certainly I wouldn’t want to be a sheriff or deputy. But a mayor?
Maybe I’d run a brothel. Or a hotel.
I think I just have to avoid the long unplanned stints in the desert where people are shooting and fighting every which way. Other than that (well, and the aliens), I think there might be a place for me. It’s a bit exciting.