A Puzzle Piece

I learned last week of the untimely passing of a bright, compelling, and spirited woman. She had an incredible story. A bright, compelling and spirited story. The thing about this gal is that she was fantastic at telling it, and she did so often. You couldn’t know her without knowing her convictions, where she stood, or what she believed in. I always admired that about her: She wasn’t afraid to tell her story because she knew it was one worth passing on.

In the last week I’ve thought often about her passing and considered the void it has left in a family, community and frankly, world that needed more like her. Who would now tell her story? She was so active in a multitude of community organizations; an important piece to a lot of different puzzles.

Puzzles are interesting things. John Spilsbury, an engraver and mapmaker, is said to have invented the first jigsaw puzzle in 1767. I don’t know who wrote down that information in 1767 but they sure made my Google search more efficient. Spilsbury, not to be confused with the dough boy, first created a puzzle that was a map, used as an educational toy.

We had puzzles growing up. They were somewhat educational; they were Cabbage Patch. 

I asked Momma to find an old puzzle for me to use as a visual for this blog. It took her two minutes and a trip upstairs. 

Any photos of me between 1984 - 1987?: She's still searching. 

Corner pieces were always the easiest to place. Faces were usually an early victory, too. Water was tough and skies were close to impossible. But not quite.

Every puzzle is comprised of several pieces, different components, varying purposes, but all important. No puzzle is impossible if all the pieces are accounted for. But if one piece missing, the puzzle will forever be incomplete.

If you think of your life as a puzzle, it’s easier to understand the value each of us brings. The important part that no one can play, but us. The unique individuality that creates our distinctive puzzle. There are so many pieces:

Obligations

Passions

Schedules

Ideas

Promises

Locations

Beliefs

Relationships

Convictions

Each piece bringing something unique to the end result. We are one piece, but such an important one! The puzzle, once completed, creates the story of us.

Your family.

The place you call home.

Your classroom.

Your farm.

The place you go to work every day.
Your circle of friends, large or small.

Your hometown.

Your new hometown.

The business you’ve built.

Your dream.

Your future.

We each have a puzzle. Maybe even a few of them. The thing about these puzzles – 25 or 250 pieces – is none are complete without us.

You can’t be absent and expect things to move along without you.  

You can’t sit out and expect things to get better.

You can’t expect people to see things your way without sharing your story.

You can’t think that you're insignificantly small when you're so very important.

Don't ever discount the value you bring to the puzzle. Don't ever question it's scale, validity, or significance.  Your playing small does not serve the world. 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marrianne Williamson

Now I charge you to think of your puzzle(s). Your value.  Your great, big, value. The piece you bring to that particular family, team, group, event, business, organization or scene that no one else can.

Don't hide that piece. 

Show up. 

Be active. 

Be present. 

Be the irreplaceable piece to that puzzle that you were perfectly designed to be. 

And maybe, tell someone else how happy you are to be a part - corner part, middle part or sky part - of their puzzle. 

While you're at it, be on the look out for a cardboard piece of hay. We've had this puzzle for 32 years and it takes a two-year-old named Oscar to forever misplace the forage. 

Grandkids bring an interesting element to a family puzzle, 

don't they?

You Are Enough

Earlier this week I was asked to attend a career fair at my alma mater and recruit the best and brightest from Purdue's College of Agriculture. 
No pressure. 
Nearly 1/3 of our awesome employees will retire in the next 10 years. 
No pressure. 
At all. 

The long day spent standing on the wood floors of the Union took me back to place in my life - not too terribly long ago (like yesterday and 100 years ago all at the same time) when internships were something only upperclassmen were charged with and I only attended a career fair because I thought it included ferris wheels and carmel apples. 
I hate it when you show up to an event looking for cotton candy and walk away with 17 pencils, 4 business cards and a mouse pad. 
Darn. 
It. 
Reality. 
And growing up. 
That was my freshman year. 
I had so much to learn. 
And I did. 
And I want to share that with ag kids trying to find a professional place in the industry - after their 5:00 mornings on the family farm have passed. 

Be Confident

You have done so much up to this moment - the vulnerable moment when it seems you're throwing yourself out to the entire, mature world. 

Only you know what it's like to make the dreaded walk up to the barn to tell your Dad that you've mown the rock that has stood in the same field for 1,000 years. 

Only you have called your Momma to tell her that everyone is OK, but your truck isn't. 

Only you have cared for animals you've lost, rode in the buddy seat and seen your Dad's heart break and watched your Grandma's arthritic hands pray for rain that never came. 

Only you have juggled FFA, 4-H, BPA, Student Government, cheerleading and studies. 

You've survived. 

Beautifully. 

You've done so much up to this moment. 

Be confident in all that you are and all that you are yet to be. Stand up straight. Look them in the eye. Be proud that - during this 3-minute flash interview - you're representing your Dad's farm and your Momma's dream. 

That's you. 

Firm Handshakes Are Still Better Than Fist Bumps

I don't know or care what's in style (I still love 80's hair and wear high-wasited jeans to the office every Friday), but I do know with certainty that a weak handshake is the first point of differentiation in agriculture. 

It wasn't long ago that handshakes were as telling as the wax seal on the exterior of a formal proposal letter. 

It wasn't long ago that we didn't need legal counsel; a man's word and handshake was enough. 

It wasn't long ago that prenuptial agreements didn't exist. 

And though we're far past those days, a firm handshake still outweighs a dead fish. 

I don't care if you're asking to mow the neighbor's yard or looking for corporate experience - may your handshake be firm. Let the recipient know your intentions are sincere. 

Get your hair out of your face and tuck in your shirt.

This is just really fundamental guidance that your mother probably wore out during your formative  years, but darn it - it still matters today. 

I can't count on my hands the number of young men who needed their hair cut, the young ladies who wore ill-fitting clothes or the number of square toe boots that needed polish. 

Any other day you may wear your hair so the professor doesn't know when you fall asleep.
Any other day you may wear whatever you'd like (don't be an idiot) to the social event on Saturday night. 

Any other day you may wear your favorite boots to 27 farms/ranches to look at stock. 

But when it comes to the career fair - pull that deal together. 

You have one chance! 

Get the hair cut; show us those pretty, honest eyes. 

Wear the flattering suit; we need not know what color underwear you wear, but we'd like to know your gender. 

Polish your boots. A boot cleaning kit is an awesome gift. It will last years! 

Consider this: You can't get into Canada with boots in that condition - what makes you think you'll get the job?

You Are Not Here to Land Your Dream Job

Understand this: Your first job won't be your dream job. 

The toughest job you'll have to land is your first job. You can always use connections to look for a second opportunity. 

The career fair - the networking in college - is about exploration and learning corporate culture and people and positions. It's not about landing a job in your home county or making more money than your roommate right out of the gate. 

Your dream job comes after a few years - maybe even decades? - of experience. 

Your dream job comes after years of dangerous learning curves and fear that you're fixin' to derail. 

Your dream job comes after you've skipped nights on the town with friends to go back to your empty apartment and eat generic Cheerios, topped with honey from home.

It gets better!

I promise you that. No toes crossed. 

You Are Enough

You have carried a load, at only 18, 21, 23 years old.
Life has been good in agriculture, but things are changing. 
You have a family at home as passionate as you - with expectations ever greater. 
You have a Dad that made it through the 1980's in agriculture and absolutely expects you to do the same, when someday asked. 
You have a mother that set the bar extremely high. A college degree. An admirable job. She still packed your lunch everyday before school. She still looks 10 years younger than her classmates, despite years in the sun. 
You have been able to watch your Granddad and Dad work side-by-side and make the family farm what it is today. And after schooling, you're silently expected to take it to the next level.

But you. 
Yes, you, with - what seems like - the weight of the world and the future on your shoulders:
You are enough. 
Did you hear me?
Yes, I'm talking to you. 
Take out your ear buds and read that line again:
You. Are. Enough. 
You have so much work to do. You have so very much to learn. And that is OK.
You are smart and loved and make folks proud. 
Sure, you have pressure on your shoulders - it is good for you. 
That pressure on your shoulders is sure to keep you grounded. 
So when you interview for the internship off the farm or the first job, remember that years of day-to-day experience have landed you here. 
Don't be consumed with the idea that you're inadequate in front of 35-year-old professionals who seems to have it together. 
Because those professionals - in their pressed slacks and perfectly starched oxford - wish that someone would have stood in front of them at 21, shook their nervous, clammy hands and simply said: This is just the beginning. You are enough. 

My day at Purdue was a good one; it was a mini reunion, seeing so many folks I went to school with, working to recruit the same kids. 
We're on the other side of the fence now, as 35-year-old professionals - in pressed slacks and perfectly starched oxfords - who seem to have it together. 

We were staring right into the bright and shining faces of the next generation of ag kids. 
Granted, the shining may have been beads of sweat.
But Dan Seals said it best: Not all that glitters is gold. 
Sometimes, it's just nerves. 

You are enough. 
Young or old. 
In agriculture or not. 
Now go change the world. 

Daddy's Store

The passing of time makes room for the birth of change.

From the time I met Cody's paternal grandmother Melva Jean, she has talked about her Daddy's store. This store she often speaks of cultivated her own path in Kansas and now the memories of it saturate her mind. 

It was announced this week that Shepler's Western Wear in Wichita, Kansas is being sold to Boot Barn Holdings and will in turn lose the Shepler name. Another day in Kansas business news to thousands, but a sad day for Melva Jean. 

You see, her Daddy, Harry Shepler, started that store as Harry Shepler Saddles and Leather on February 16, 1946. 

Then

Daddy's store is, in fact, now Shepler's.

(They are having a huge online sale at the time of this blog, by the way)

Now

In the spirit of reminiscing, preservation and heritage, I reached out to Melva and asked questions about the original Shepler’s store. She admitted she’s quite sad about the transition. Though she married years ago and took the Sankey name, there is still a connection for Melva on Kellog Street in Wichita.

From here I’ll let Melva’s answers tell the story of a historic western store and her Daddy's vision.

Harry Shepler

“You asked how Daddy acquired the store...

When he was in his late twenties and early thirties he found that he had Parkinson Disease. At that time he was the youngest person they knew who had it. Anyway, he knew before long he would be disabled so he had to find something to do. He sold the ranch at Piedmont, KS and bought the J W Gibson Harness Shop. He carried $40,000.00 cash in a paper sack to pay Mr. Gibson. He then renamed it Harry Shepler Saddles and Leather. That was February 16, 1946. 

A Harry Shepler Saddle 

Note the signature latigo holder

Then he expanded in 1949 to include clothing, boots, etc. This was called "The Westerner". Then in 1961 he built a 10,000 square foot building and moved west out on West Kellogg Street. This is where Shepler’s is today (the original store on Kellogg Street is still standing, but is now the warehouse). Everyone told him he was making a big big mistake but he believed it was the right thing to do...and, it was. Thats how the store got started.

You asked what was my favorite part of Daddy’s store…

You know I loved it all. I loved the people that came in; I loved visiting with them. I loved - and still do - the western life.  Of course I really loved having all the new fashions as they came into the store! My mother and I always got the new things because Daddy thought it was good advertisement. But that also could be dangerous...I remember one time we had a new hat that was a different color than any others and I got it! Daddy produced rodeos every summer and we had more people at our place than in the whole town of Piedmont! Anyway, I wore that hat to one of Daddy’s Wichita rodeos and was really proud of that hat when a cowboy went over and asked Daddy if there were anymore…and of course there wasn't. So Daddy called me over and had this man try it on; it fit him so Daddy sold the hat off my head. I was a little upset, but then I asked him what if it had been my shirt? My mother quickly assured me he would never take the shirt off my back!

Not long ago a lady said she always liked to go to the rodeos and horse shows to see what my mother was wearing cause she always looked so great. Didn't say anything about me!

You asked what was my least favorite thing about working at Daddy’s store...

In fact there were two things. One: I had to wrap all packages and to this day I hate to wrap packages. I was stuck in the back room where I could not see or talk to anyone. I hated it. 

Then when Daddy moved the store out west and I had married and left home he put a wrapping table out in front where people could visit and pick out the paper they wanted etc. I asked him how come he didn't do that when I was home. He just grinned and said "Sis, you liked to visit too much and it would take you twice as long to get the work done.”

The second thing I didn't like was "Inventory".  All the ladies working in the store were older than me so I got to do all the counting down under the counters where I could not see anyone. I did not like that...especially if the customers were the cute young men!

You asked about my fondest memories…

I think that would be the people. I so enjoyed visiting with all that came in. So many times today I will read about some rancher, cattleman, farmer, etc. in today’s papers and magazines I think I know him and remember visiting with him.

Another thing was Daddy’s generosity. He was always trying to help someone. Cowboys would come into the store and need something for a big rodeo but did not have the money at the time so Daddy would say take what you need and pay when you can. I remember one year about Christmas time I was in this store buying gifts and this gentleman came up and said aren't you the Shepler girl? When I said yes he proceeded to tell me about what Daddy did to help him. Made me very proud. 

Then the one story that is dear to my heart...There was a little boy who lived north of the store and he was always walking the street and he would come by the store and look longingly at the boots and other things in the window. There was a toy holster set that he drooled over. I had gotten acquainted with him and learned a little bout his background. We had a  holster set in the back room we were sending back because it had  something wrong with it and I asked Daddy if we could give it to him. Daddy said “Sis don't give him a broken one...”. When the little boy left he had the gun holster set, plus boots, shirt, jeans, and I think a hat. Now that was Christmas Eve years and years ago and I have never forgotten how happy that little boy was. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it. 

You asked about any notable people who came to the store… 

Yes there were quite a few who came to the rodeos that Daddy sponsored. I remember Smiley Burnett (I still come across the picture of him and I every once in a while), Rex Allen, Tex Ritter, Hank Williams and Ben Johnson.  Then if I saw them on a show or something I would always remember them being here. There were lots more but I can't remember their name. There have been a lot of today’s country stars but that would be after Daddy's time. 

Smiley

       Rex

Tex

Hank

Ben

I guess I better get busy. I am going to make some TV Snack.

Hey, there is one thing I think people should know about Daddy.

With his Parkinson’s disease he shuffled when he walked and sometimes fell down; we were told in no uncertain terms we were not to help him up "he would do it himself".  If he fell off a horse you did not help him; he did it on his own. People would criticize us but if they offered to help he always turned them down. Daddy was a very determined man. He was also told he would be in a wheelchair but he said no; and he wasn't till they retired and I started taking them on trips. They always wanted to take Hal to Texas to the big Six Flags Over Texas so we went. I told daddy he had to be in a wheelchair cause there was too much walking and he agreed. Well we were always taken straight up to the front of the line because of his wheelchair and I told him then and there from now on whenever and wherever we went his chair went with us!! He laughingly agreed.

Remember if you have more questions just let me know. I love remembering.  But probably boring you to death!

Melva and (almost all of) her grandkids

Luv u, 

Melva Jean"

Harry succumbed to Parkinson's at age 61. Today you can get on the internet and search Shepler's and find modern "western" wear and stores nationwide. If you continue to search deep enough, and make some phone calls, you can still find the heart and soul of the original shop - Harry's leather goods - spread throughout North America. It is those pieces that will remain true to the Shepler brand and weather the generations far past the sparkle jeans and graphic t-shirts. 

Melva continues to energetically tell her story to the next generation and pass her Daddy's legacy on. Even in her eighties she still takes great pride in wearing good cowboys boots and is always - always - wearing turquoise. What more could I ask for in a grandmother-in-law? Just a couple months ago while cleaning out things at her home she found the original contract between her Daddy and JW Gibson. She is a historian and passer of stories, no doubt. 

Every family - every single one - has a story worth telling. One of love, regret, adventure, heroism, mischief, integrity or more. Are you asking the oldest living generation those questions that will tell your family's story? 

Ask them. Call them. Email them. Visit them. 

Then write it down - with pen and paper - write it down.

It's a lot less expensive, far more entertaining and much more accurate than a membership to  Ancestry.com.  

Side Note: I'm in search of an authentic Harry Shepler saddle. Do you know of anyone who might have one?