The Summer Days of Boyhood
By Bruce H. Beane, Nashua, NH

My story is a simple remembrance of Helldorado Days, 1962. I was the 8-year-old son of an enlisted Air Force staff sergeant at Nellis Air Force Base. We lived on Miekle Lane near the base.

That year my father and I went to one of the Helldorado rodeo events with a friend of the family and his son. What sticks out in my memory was the pageantry of the parade that opened the rodeo. All the horses were decked out in highly decorated silver harnesses and saddles.

Somehow the rodeo riders made less impression on me than the clowns. My 8-year-old brain wondered, "How could anyone be so brave as to run around in front of those bulls, taunt them over and over again, then jump into a barrel and hold on for a ride?" Only the clowns were that brave.

I left the rodeo that day with a small rubber toy -- a horse and rider. I'd press a small plunger and the horse would buck repeatedly. I wore that toy out, yet that horse never did throw that rubber rider.

My father retired from the USAF in 1971, and I followed his lead and retired from the USAF in 1994. My family and I now live in New Hampshire. But I'm bringing my wife to Las Vegas in September to see the town where I spent part of my youth.

Las Vegas will always hold a special place in my memory--the glorious summer days and us kids running barefoot, shirtless, and shoeless under the relentless summer sun; pulling the occasional sticker out of our bare feet; impervious to sunburn; tirelessly chasing the occasional horned toad or lizard, and always amazed that the lizard's tail kept wiggling while the rest of its body scampered into the brush.

Ahhhh, good times. . . .
Posted 7/15/04