CowboyBootStories.Com

I was a big fan the President Reagan. Not only because of what he did to turn our country around after Jimmy Carter, but because he seemed like a regular, happy guy.
I remember as a teen, watching press shots of Reagan working on his Ranch in California. Those images were America, and they inspired me to want to be a cowboy. Not the herd the herd, rope the calf cowboy, but I man who lived the values of the west. I wanted to be as happy as President Reagan looked when he was riding his horse on his ranch.
I couldn’t afford the ranch or the horse, but I was able to save up to buy my first pair of boots. They were Tony Lama, they were inexpensive and they were mine.
Now, as an adult I can afford any pair of boots I like and I have little place to ride and I often think back to how the Gipper inspired me to be a happy American and how he inspired me to buy my first pair of boots.

My first pair of boots - Frye Boots. Delivered on my doorstep in a neatly packed brown box. As I approached my stoop I could hear the anxious boots dancing their way out to my feet! I hurridly ripped open the neatly packaged brown box and strapped the boots on one foot at a time. My very first pair of cowboy boots - and they places they’ve traveled: Walnut Creek to hear Kenny, Alan, George, and Martina; to school where my students admire my style; State Football Games; the grocery store; in summer and winter, with a dress or with jeans, shorts or a skirt; my brother’s minor league baseball games; spring training; and…the goat shows.

Yes, I wore my $350 brand new Frye boots to the NC State Fair Goat Show. My first Goat Show, State Fair 2007. I won first place and Best in Show with my lovely Boer Goat Rose. I owe it all to my cowboy boots. I didn’t grow up on a farm, I grew up in town. I didn’t grow up around animals, not even a pet dog. I grew up playing tennis at the country club, and watching my brother play ball - and still do. I grew up prim and proper, never wore a pair of wranglers or boots - till the Goat Show. “Where’d you find her”, they asked. “She’s a natural!” “Bring her back!” I did, go back that is, to the 2008 NC State Fair Goat Show - in my not so new cowboy boots. By then, the leather on the bottom was coming off and the smell of goat - well, stuff - kicked up every once in a while. Rose didn’t do as well this year, maybe she was worn out like my boots. But, I owe my confidence in the ring and my new nickname, “Goat Girl” to my brand new Frye Boots!

After I’d had my boots for 6 months or so and they were good and broken in, the star actor and principle dancer in a community theater production of “Oklahoma” spotted them, and said, “Wow, I wish I had boots like that to wear in this show. The boots they gave me just clomp on the floor and slip and slide and hurt my feet when I dance. Those look really comfortable.”
I said, “They really are, but I’ve never tried to dance in them. What size are your feet?” It turned out we were the same size, and, since “the show must go on”, I lent them to him for the run of the show. He tap danced, walzed, and two-stepped through 6 shows and many rehearsals, all the while saying that they felt as good as any shoes he’d ever owned. When he gave them back, they were none the worse for wear. A little leather protector and polish, and they looked just as good as the day I bought them. And I’d made a friend who now knows what it’s like to be in my shoes.

I finally found the boots that met all my expectations!! They fit great, were comfortable and were made in America. I paid $249.00 for them and got to wear them a total of 5 days- when my dog decided that they also met all his expectations- The greatest chew toy ever-needless to say I lost my job the same week as my boots were destroyed and I am unable to replace them so I am now wearing a pair of boots with the toe chewed off one and the whole top chewed off the other.

well, it all started when we went to visit my sister-in-law in austin texas, in august. they were taking us to all the “big sights”……….of course, the alamo. then we went to a boot store, (because i am a shoe lover from way back!).

since both my husband’s and brother-in-law’s eyes started to roll back in their heads, we lead them to chairs to recover, and kathy and i started to look at rows and rows of beautiful boots!!

i of course, tired everything on they had in my size, when we both at the same time spied a pair of pink and green boots! “that’s them! i gotta have them!”

they were of the softest leather that i had ever felt in boots. they fit perfectly, they looked great, and the i LOVED them!

we showed them to “coma” and “tose” sitting in the chairs, and got the usual husband response. “yes, very nice dear”, until he actually looked and listened to what i was saying…….. “what are you going to do with those in CHICAGO?”

long story short, guess who didn’t get the pretty pink and green boots? yup.

needless to say, i pouted all the way to christmas, (that’s a good 4 months of pouting) until, there under the tree were my pink and green boots!

i guess, he’s not so bad after all.

I am 12 years old and I started riding western when I was 9 years old. My first pair of boots were bought at a yard sale, they were another girls boots that looked like they were 10 years old. I thought they were the best thing ever. I am still wearing them. When I first got my boots they were 3 sizes to big, but that didn’t seem to matter to me. I am now 12 years old and the boots don’t quite fit but they are all I have and I don’t think that I will ever get rid of them. They make me feel like a real cowgirl.

Congratulations Tim J Hanzlik, of Kansas

This is our first week of sponsoring the Cowboy Boot Story project. We have had some great stories posted this week.

Our first week allowed us to work the bugs out of our new system and allowed some of the Boot City customers to get a chance to win the first Free pair of boots before we opened to the public.

The winner of the $200 prize towards the cowboy boots of their choice is… Tim J Hanzlik, of Kansas for his story “The little boot that could”

Tim will be allowed to pick out a new pair of boots and put his old boots to rest for awhile.

Congratulation Tim, look for an email about how to claim your boots.

I have always loved cowboy boots. I only had one pair my whole childhood. Secondhand roughouts. At five years of age, by best friend Tommy had two pair. One pair for everyday wear and another we called, “dress up boots”. I would go to his house, and those boots were just sitting there, in the almost empty room, with the sun reflecting off the near perfect polish of new boots, mocking my tennis shoe enclosed feet. I never saw them worn, as we rarely went anywhere to “dress up”. I asked and asked for my next birthday for a new pair of boots. I would go to sleep at night, dreaming of a new pair of tall polished boots. It was not meant to be.
By middle school I finally got a pair of hand me downs from some unknown stranger and proudly wore them to school, only to be mocked by girls in the P.E. locker room that girls weren’t supposed to wear boots. They weren’t tall boots anyway, so I stopped wearing them.
In high school a Western store owner took a charitable outlook to my large family and let us come in and pick out brand new clothes and boots. I found the perfect tall Tony Lamas and wore them home. By now, I wouldn’t wear them to school but would keep them safe at home, like Tommy’s dress up boots. Of course, my horseman mother couldn’t stand to see a pair of boots not covered in manure and wore them every day into the corral. Soon my perfect boots were not fit to wear, except in the corral. It was years before I bought another pair of boots. They are navy blue tall Tony Lamas ands they sit in the corner with rolled up magazines in them, so they will be straight and perfect for the “dress up” occasions I love wearing them to. I even wear them with dresses, a practice horsewomen of my childhood would have never done. Only people from big cities and Santa Fe would do that.

I had just added a new pair of boots to my “collection” as my dad would have said, about six months prior to this big event. He and I were in competion of a different sort. We didn’t team rope, or anything. We had a friendly rivalry going on about who could wear there boots the longest without taking them off for any reason. That meant not even a good ole shower !
I decided that I could easily do this in the 30 days that I had spoke for. He decided that was a fair guess of the amount of days that he could go as well. Well “It was ON!!” so to speak.
I absolutely LOVE my boots, well I put a new meaning to the word LOVE by the time this was all over and done with. He decided that the ideal month for us to do this was in June. June when the weather is nice and hot and you would rather be swimming and wearing flip flops. I work outside all summer long. He is retired and sat in the air conditioning. I kind of forgot some of the down sides to letting him decide the when and where etc.
But my boots got a workout from the outside in and the inside out literally.
My boots showed me why I “LOVED” them so much. Not only did we win our little bet with my dad, but I never realized how versitle they could be. They are truly fashion wear and work wear.
My Twisted X boots and I did it all in 30 days. We went swimming in the lake, the river, did some boating (boots and a swim suit how cute), we went to the county fair through the sunshine and the rain. Managed to enter a open class with my daughter and her horse and WIN. Drove the tractor, planted the garden. We even mowed the grass on the rider and got the beautiful tan lines mid way up the leg-boy did I look funny after that 30 days. We even attended a wedding and a Harley Rally.
Well I still have that pair of boots that I wore for the “competition” but now they sit on the window sile with flower pots in them I can’t bring myself to let them go, they got me through that June, the rest of summer, through the fall and winter hospital visits and even a funeral. I decided that when my dad got sick and passed away that no matter how ridiculous they looked I knew that he would smile down and know that those were my “competition” boots. So it was only fitting that they went to his farwell with me.
My mother understood but I did get a few funny looks. But I figured the guy that we were there to celebrate would know the reason why so that was all that mattered. My dad and I loved our boots.He was buried in his, so I guess in the end sad but true he actually “won” the competition.

“You know that blonde from Texas”, was the description he used. Piper replied, “do you mean Kath?” He did not know my name, but I had become the blonde from Texas…It was a laugh out loud moment when my friend Piper realized it was me, Kath, that he spoke of. Born and bred in New England, as a sailor, always on the water, the vision of me being “the girl from Texas” really struck her funny bone.
Cowboy boots have always been part of me. At 3 walking down the catwalk of my parents sailboat; I had to have my cowboy boots with me. In high school trudging through the New England winter, my cowboy boots were still with me….even in college in Maine, my cowboy boots came along with me. I had different kinds and different colors, but no shoes felt as good and embraced my spirit as much. When all my friends embraced clogs as the comfort/fashion shoe…I stuck with my cowboy boots; but until recently I never really knew how utilitarian my boots could be!!
A great day this summer out on a northern New England beach…a long day of swimming, sunning and kicking the soccer ball around with my sons and a host of friends was coming to a close, but we just didn’t want the day to end. So, we stayed a bit too long and the tide was out a bit too far for us to return the boat by engine to our mooring. We reside a small way in from the ocean and are lucky enough to have a river which pulls into our neighborhood. As we approached the cree where our mooring is located, we had to make the decision to hop off the boat and pull it the rest of the way as the tide was out too far….everyone put on their shoes and allie-ooped over the side. I however, had my cowboy boots…the comments started flying…her and her crazy boots!!!! Well, as we walked across the creek toward home, the marsh mud was like quick sand and folks started loosing their shoes. Feet in sneakers were pulled down a foot into the mud only to return to the surface without the sneaker. Flip-flops, forget it. They were long gone! I, however, with my cowboy boots was the only one to make it back to shore with both shoes, never having been pulled over into the smelly, slimy mud. As the remaining eight crew members worked their way toward shore, many without shoes at this point, they began to call out to me to toss my cowboy boots to them so they could make it through the clam infested mud without cutting their feet. Being a cowboy boot spirited person, I was only too happy to hurl my boots to them one at a time while they made it to shore with safe feet. Finally, with the whole crew safe on shore, smelling like the undeniable stink of low tide in the marsh, we had a good laugh at the fact that my cowboy boots, the same boots that they think I’m crazy for wearing in New England on a boat were the savior of the day!!
I rinsed them off that night when we returned home and although they’ve never smelled quite the same, they still are a big part of me!! Not a Texan, but a New Englander!!!