OF COWBOYS AND MARHARAJAS
The Paul Ackerman Story
by
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One day in autumn, I was invited to watch a branding/cutting event. It was almost like a rodeo, and I was entranced. A calf was released from a chute into a round, fenced corral. That calf was then chased by a cowboy on horseback who has a lariat hanging from his hand. With beautiful precision, he spurred his horse to follow that calf and come parallel to it, so he could slip the noose over its head. (No lariat twirling above the head of the cowboy, Western fans.) When the noose was tightened the cowboy looped the rope around his saddle horn and backed towards the corral fence. The calf balked and tried backing the other way, and the result was a taut rope between the calf and the cowboy’s horse. Then, another cowboy ran over to the rope, followed it down to the calf, put his arms around the calf’s neck, and threw both the calf and the rope-runner onto the ground, where other cowboys came and tied the legs of the calf together. When the calf was thus immobile, lying on the ground with the rope runner, the iron brand was pulled out of the fire and applied to the shank of the calf. Much squealing and sweating. Then, for some steers (male cattle), a quick swoosh of a very sharp blade removed the calves’ opportunities for manhood. The resultant meat was put on the branding fire to provide delicious snacks later on. It soon became obvious why my father was asked to bring me. My initiation. I was to be the rope runner. My dad was laughing with the cowboys when I looked at him. I knew I had to do it—for his entertainment. I entered the corral. Out of the chute, whoosh with the lariat, and there I was, pushed to the middle. The first time I grabbed the calf, I got the legs instead of the neck, and a trampled toe. The second time, I did not get all the way around the neck and the calf butted me to the ground. The third time I got around the neck, but despite my pretty good strength, could not throw him. I did not know how to balance him or me. I stood up, spitting out dust, wiping my crusted eyes and tried to drown out the laughter of the spectators. I looked that calf in the eye, grabbed him around the neck, and threw myself down on the ground. And, hey, that calf came with me, kicking and bawling. I held him like a vice, my muscles quivering. The cowboys came and tied his legs. I smelled the burning hair and flesh as he was branded and saw the drip of blood when he was cut. But I smiled. I may not have been stronger than the calf, but I sure weighed more. Before I went home, I sampled those “mountain oysters.” I was feeling like Salome eating the head of John the Baptist. In 1952, I graduated from Jordan Valley High School. That was our last year in the desert. My father found an administrator’s job in Western OR. He became the principal of an elementary school in Boring, OR. (Time out for some homemade jokes about the name.)
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About the Book
This book, in the form of a memoir, is not a compilation of good deeds and recollections. There is nostalgia within, old pictures of family life, and diverse anecdotes. It leads the reader to the “why’s” of major decisions and actions. It reveals a secret I held as a child and disguised as an adult. I am bisexual. It demonstrates the harm of being stigmatized by a large number of colleagues—and my parents-- who cannot discuss their perception of my sexuality with me but can only treat it negatively and passively. This story shows how my acceptance of the whole me and a determined reform of my interactions changed my life—and creativity. I could be a cowboy. I could dream of meeting a Maharaja.
About the Author
Dr. Paul Ackerman lived a life of many accomplishments. Talented in piano, writing, and creativity, he was able to adapt himself to many diverse situations and achieve success in his work beyond imagining. He was a pioneer in developing the field of special education, benefitting practitioners, children, adults and families. He stimulated research and change at a global level. He wrote three commercial books with a co-author on the subject of responsible parenting. He entertained and enlightened himself and others with his music. He was supported by his loving siblings, his talented children, some extraordinary friends and a nurturing husband during low periods. As a victim of personal stigma throughout most of his life, his writings reveal the “real” Paul Ackerman.