Invited by a friend from the dance community to a Shriner’s Cowboy Ball about a month ago, I and a few other friends said, “Sure- what the heck! Sounds like fun!” Day of the event, we were encouraged to dress up in a vintage cowboy outfit, if we had it. I had nothing really cowboyish except some black boots, so day of, I picked up a navy-colored cowboy shirt and join it with some rancher black rancher’s slacks, and after a cleanup and a shave, I said to myself, I hope I am not overdressing for this thing. Two hours later, during an award break in the evening’s schedule, I am stuffing a piece of pizza in my mouth when I hear my name called.

While I was honored to be considered something tough and tumble, a desperado of sorts, I didn’t have anything remotely resembling a gun and holster with me while attending the dance. I guess I was a conceal-and-carry cowboy.

A good time was had by all.