Back In The Dust
Two years ago, I stood in the dust of Linden Valley Arena with a camera in hand and a heart full of awe. I thought I was documenting a one-of-a-kind event—a rodeo without horses, powered entirely by the grit and giggles of local kids. Turns out, I was witnessing the beginning of a tradition.
This year, I returned. Same arena. Same taste of dust on the tongue. But something had shifted—not in the event itself, which still featured barrel races, dummy roping, and the infamous grocery dash—but in me. I wasn’t just photographing a charity rodeo. I was photographing resilience, ritual, and the kind of small-town magic that doesn’t fade—it multiplies.
Linden Elementary still faces uphill battles. The teachers still stretch every dollar like taffy. But the community? It’s doubled down. Volunteers didn’t just show up—they brought reinforcements. Kids didn’t just race—they remembered how it felt last time and passed that joy forward. And me? I didn’t just shoot the event—I felt lucky to be invited back into the story.
There were new faces this year, and familiar ones too. Melissa Perkins, who tirelessly helped orchestrate every moving part, was the quiet engine behind the scenes. Alongside her, a battalion of parent volunteers kept the day humming—setting up courses, wrangling kids, and cheering louder than anyone.
And then there were the grown-ups who leaned all the way in—like Katie Mae Waite in bright pink plaid and clown makeup, galloping through the obstacle course with a hobby horse and zero hesitation. It was a reminder that in Linden, adults don’t just supervise childhood—they participate in it. They model joy, silliness, and wholehearted effort. They show kids that growing up doesn’t mean growing out of fun.
The rescue race? Still hilarious. Still heartwarming. Still a reminder that parenting is part rodeo, part improv comedy.
What struck me most wasn’t the spectacle—it was the continuity. The way kids cheered for each other like it was second nature. The way buckles were handed out not just for winning, but for showing up, trying hard, and lifting others. The way Linden, Arizona—quiet, unincorporated, tucked into the White Mountains—keeps proving that the size of your town has nothing to do with the size of your heart.
I’ve photographed a lot of events. But this one? Twice now, it’s reminded me that the best stories aren’t the ones you chase. They’re the ones that welcome you back.
