Butch called to me across the street. I went over and sat on the sidewalk in the midday sun while he regaled me with a miscellany of disjointed though entertaining stories about Neligh and small town life. At times, Butch’s comments set me on edge with what seemed like casual ethnic and gender stereotyping, yet as our conversation developed and matured Butch spoke with more nuance and warmth, busting his own stereotypes. He also spoke about a life hard lived, racing horses down Main Street, working in a pig slaughterhouse, being kicked in the mouth by a horse at a young age and now being wheelchair bound.

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