Above my desk hang two medicine bags. One is Indian beaded brain-tanned buckskin that contains little treasures collected over a lifetime--things like an arrowhead I found, baby teeth from horses I've owned, that sort of thing. The other one is really special to me.
When my best pard--Roger Miller--knew he was dying, he commissioned someone to make several little medicine bags. They are made of elk skin and fasten with one of Roger's logo cowboy conchos, Each bag contains some sweet grass tied with a ribbon and a pellet of Roger's ashes.
I received my medicine bag a couple of weeks after Roger crossed over the Great Divide. There was no message, but I understood the significance: He wasn't really gone and would be hanging around if you needed him. For many years after when we had some shindig, I would always pass it around for all the pretty gals to admire. That way my old cowboy pard Roger was at the party, held by each pretty cowgal.