“Would you mind getting the gate?” said Ted Rindahl. In his late 70s he and a neighbor had been riding through steep sided ravines and draws in western North Dakota. They were cattle. checking on cattle. The end of a long day was nearing. You probably know some people in their late 70s. Some get along well walking on pavement. Others need a walker. After a lifetime of ranch work and farming Ted was still strong and full of vigor.
A few years earlier one of Ted’s grandsons had stayed with him for a year. The kid was 25 and normally a city dweller. Early in his stay they’d gone out for a similar type of ride. They rode for hours through the mostly open range. The next morning Ted was feeling energetic and chuckled as the grandson stiffly shuffled through the house. He was 72 when he rode his grandson, nearly 50 years his junior, into the ground.
Ted continued, “When the horses bunched up early on and your’s kicked out he caught me in the leg. I think it might be broken and if I get off I don’t think I’ll be able to get back on.”
For quite some time he’d been riding rough terrain on a possibly broken leg. He didn’t voice any complaints. Just did the day’s work. Now he’s politely asking the other younger rider if he’d open the gate.
When I called my mom to verify the details she asked “the first or second time his leg was broken?” In his mid 30s during mid winter Ted was out working. The horse he was on skittered on a patch of ice and slid sideways into an embankment. Snap. Ted was alone and town was a couple of miles away. He rode through the midwinter frozen lands. He stopped at a neighbor’s house and asked for a bit of help with the horse. He was ever polite and ever strong.
Last weekend I fell from a ladder and broke my leg. I didn’t politely ask for anything. “Phil, have Jennifer call 9-1-1.” I didn’t ride a horse with the broken leg. I sat on my butt until the EMTs arrived. Fortunately they were fast. The shock was wearing off and the pain levels were climbing.
During the next few hours in the ER room I thought of my grandfather’s second broken leg. I’d always admired the man. During those hours the admiration grew more than I could have imagined.
