I think my jacket was red and I had a great cowboy/girl hat which usually hung down my back from that string you see looped around my neck. I was packing heat and meant business.
My mom put up with a lot. She lived to be 89, so I had her with me for a good long while. She's only been gone a couple of years. But guess what: I still miss her. I always will.
Back then, I wanted to grow up to be a cowgirl, but in Manhattan, the chances were slim. I loved cowboy shows and movies and had this whole notion of moving west with Rowdy Yates and Gil Favor and Cheyenne and The Rifleman and The Lawman...never missed an episode. Hey, even then I knew a good looking man when I saw one. Ha!
So, to all you Mamas out there, pistol-packing or otherwise - cowgirls or otherwise - Have A Wonderful Mother's Day.