Blue Moon Christmas

Jimmie’s dad was bent and wise, a man that life had rode by— But Jim still recalled his words when he would laugh and half cry: “Life’s a fragile balance between honor and what’s true— A rare, livin’ miracle like a winter moon that’s blue.” Jimmie started busting sheep when he was only six— His dad taught him to ride and shoot, and do those fancy tricks. He grew long and lean on that ranch and helped with the chores— And rode the broncs and young bulls then, keeping track of his scores. His name was Jimmie Moon, but his friends just called “Blue”— ‘Cause kids like him were few and far and his heart was strong and true. He had wisdom beyond his years – he had seen the light— He never did the easy thing; he did the thing that’s right. It came as no surprise; he married a girl named Liz Folks knew was large with child that was another man’s, not his. But that was fine with Blue and he still followed his star— Ranching now part-time and riding bulls in the PBR. “It’s not like the ol’ days,” smiled his dad, not being funny— “Then bull ridin’ was for buckles – now you’re talkin’ money!” But just as Jimmie Blue Moon was on the edge of fame— September 11th happened and stirred within a flame. Though his family begged him not to sign and go away— He enlisted in the Army just the very next day. Sure enough, his service to a cause became a fact And he was sent far off to war in a place called Iraq. Then months and years rolled by as Blue only rode iron tanks— Never forgetting his wife and child, for which he gave thanks. Then came a Christmas season when Blue’s ranch was deep with snow— A knock on the door brought news Blue’s wife did not want to know. (continued)