Wildfires were a fact of life growing up, especially out West. I’d see bulletins come across the news – 50,000 acres, 100,000 acres, gone. I’d shake my head, think “That’s too bad” and go about my day. I think, from now on, I will view these events with a little more compassion.

It’s county fair week, or at least it is at the time of me writing this (the first week of August) it is. When I was younger it was my favorite time of year. It was like Christmas morning. The one where you just can’t wait. You’re excited, jittery with anticipation.

Curious George. Yes, the little monkey from children’s books who was rescued by “The Man in the Yellow Hat.” That is what kids at school liked to call me – and no, it wasn’t because I was always getting into trouble but because when your last name is George that is where the creativity of kindergartners ends.

While the expressed purpose of hosting a weekly auction is buying and selling livestock, we all know that a good portion of the folks making themselves comfortable in those worn-out bleachers show up with no intention of letting go of a single penny.

Is anyone else wondering how it’s May already? Because I am! They say time moves faster as you get older and, at the ripe age of 25, I can attest to that. All jokes aside, May marks my 10th month here at Progressive Cattle. But I’m no stranger to this publication.

I am a firm believer that attending these events are crucial for the success and improvement of the cattle industry, but the loveliest thing to me is the fact that nobody has to do it.

In an exchange parroted ad nauseam with my buddies with every charming ounce of teenage wit available to us in the mid-2000s, two movie pirates discuss their Plan B should Plan A go awry: “What if the worst should happen?” “Keep to the Code.”