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String strands and bucked buds used to be a part of my everyday life. Rodeo clowns were constant companions and lamb hunting became one of my favorite things. For a year, I spent days, nights, and weekends on the PRCA trail with top ropers and riders from all over.

Originating in Pecos, Texas years ago, the rodeo has become synonymous with America’s Wild West heritage and the reputation has been well earned. The competition includes unpaid athletes who need those prize dollars to keep going.

As the national spokesperson for the Adolph Coors Company, I lived on the road and attended one event a week. Peter Coors signed my check and his new passion was rodeo so I saddled up. For forty-six straight weeks, I rode horses in professional rodeos all over the country, from Albany, New York to Poway, California.

Twelve cases of beer, Coors of course, were delivered to my hotel room each day for me to give away out of “good will.” Host hotels often reserved their best rooms for me and renamed them the “Bridle Suite”. I conducted press interviews from my living room many times.

One day, we were lined up at a rodeo in Rock Springs, Wyoming, to ride “circle 8.” Clay or Jake leaned in and said, “Lane’s in Cheyenne.” By the time we finished the opening routine, Lane was dead.

Lane Frost had been my friend at the rodeo. His last interview was with me in Santa Maria, California and I saw clips of that interview on the news over and over again. Then they made the movie “8 Seconds” and tried to do justice to his life.

The movie didn’t touch how deep the friendship between Lane and Tuff Hedeman ran. I was with Tuff at the next rodeo in Fort Madison, Iowa, and he showed up, ready to ride and do the press tour. Tuff and I were auctioned off at a charity event. We both had to dance with someone who had made an offer for us. “How are you here?” Asked.

One month out of the year, I went on an alcohol awareness trip. The goal was to balance promoting the beer with fair warning of its dangerousness. No press was hired and I was sent to Indian reservations, mainly in New Mexico and Arizona. One visit to the Navajo reservation in Window Rock, Arizona, was enough to get the full impact of the disadvantages of drinking among Native Americans.

So the lives of Native Americans have been wiped out by ethanol alcohol due to their inherent trait of never having consumed ‘fire water’ before the white man brought it from Europe. We brought the potent drinks with us when we developed and settled in the territories that would later become the fifty states. The evidence of alcoholic damage is clear and far-reaching when one visits reservations.

In an age when family events are rare, the rodeo still draws attention from all ages. There are two types of competitors, jockeys and ropers, and it is exciting to see a horse and rider compete as one in the arena. I will never forget the year I spent “riding the trail” with all those proud horsemen and my brief exposure to the damage caused by ethanol infusions to our Native American population.

For now, Sherry D.

Formerly Miss Coors Rodeo

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