Bear Grease - Ep. 273: This Country Life - NYC

Episode Date: November 22, 2024

The phrase "country's come to town" has never been more true or descriptive of Brent's latest trip. The consummate country boy spent three days in the middle of New York City with his family. His expectations for discomfort were high but what he found was just the opposite, and even though he was far from Arkansas, it felt very close to home. Brent's in the Big Apple this week on MeatEater's "This Country Life" podcast. Hurricane Relief: https://www.redcross.org/donate/cm/onxmeateater-pub.html/ Subscribe to the MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube Connect with Brent and MeatEater MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube Shop This Country Life Merch Shop Bear Grease MerchSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

First Lights fieldwear collection is made for the work that happens long before opening day and continues when the season ends. Products built for early mornings, full days in real use. Hard wearing where they need to be versatile where it matters. No shortcuts. Just gear designed for the work that earns the season. Built to perform, built to last. Check out. First Light's new fieldwear gear at firstlight.com.

Welcome to this country life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From coon hunting to trotlining and just general country living, I want you to stay a while as I share my experiences and life lessons. This country life is presented by Case Nives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcasts the Airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share.

New York City. I, along with Alexis and Bailey, and her best pals and dance team members, along with their parents, who've become just like family, traveled to New York City for three days. And we all made it back home alive, none the worst for where? There's so much to talk about that the story this week is going to be the whole show. Everything from start to finish and all the goodies in between. Its country comes to town, and I'm fixing. to tell you all about it.

It was an easy decision six months ago when my wife Alexis told me that she and some of the other competition dance moms were kicking around the idea of taking the girls to New York City to see the Rockettes at the Radio City Music Hall. Stay two or three nights and come home. Well, even I've heard of the Rockettes

and Radio City Music Hall. I've been watching them dance on my television on Thanksgiving Day in front of the Macy's department store. my whole life. I'm also not one to sit back and miss an opportunity to watch one of my young ones experience the biggest trip of her life so far without me. Plus, they were going to New York City, and I wasn't about to let them go without me going for protection. They planned for six months and broke the news to me the day before we left that we weren't checking any bags. Everything we'd be taken with us had to fit into two

carry-ons. Now, the idea was good. Less luggage, less items to keep up with, and the amount of stuff that Alexis and Bailey take with them on a daily basis would be the less room they'd have to bring stuff back with them. That's going to save yours truly some money in the long run. And I like the idea. But with anything, there's giving take, and giving up checked baggage came at a personal cost for me. That meant for three days I'd be without either of my pocket knives, and I can't tell you how many times I patted my pockets on that trip looking for the knives that weren't there just out of habit. My brother Tim quit smoking, and I still see him reach for the pack of smokes that hasn't

been in the bib pocket of his overalls for over 20 years. I'm sure that seems silly to some or the majority of you listening, but to me, giving up those pocket knives was giving up a part of who I am. Also, it seemed like I needed a knife 47 times before we got back home. And when we walked through the door last night at 8.30, I put them both in my breeches before I took off my boots. I am a toddler, and those case knives, they are my blanket. But before we left, I could see the excitement building as we made our way to the airport an hour before daylight and Bailey realizing that we were actually going to go.

We boarded the plane with eight adults and nine kids, ranging in age from 18 to 8 plus an infant, and we brought the same number back. The experience was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. I've been jaded by the news and by reputation and by the stigma of what everyone else's opinion was about New York City. Even the people I know from the state of New York told me not to judge the rest of the state by what I saw an experience there. I prepared myself to be disappointed, mad, and uneasy for the next three days.

Head on a swivel, ever vigilant and ready for anything, which is how I live my life regardless where I am. So transitioning from Arkansas to New York was really only a matter of geography. And after a fog delay in Little Rock, we flew to Charlotte, North Carolina, and caught our connecting flight with plenty of time to spare, and stepped off the plane in New York, right on schedule. We'd arranged for two large passenger vans to pick us up at LaGuardia Airport, and they were there waiting on us when we walked outside. The eight-mile trip to the hotel took 45 minutes.

In that span of time, my life flashed before my eyes a half a dozen times, as our driver negotiated through traffic that was bumper to bumper and filled with a cacophony of blowing horns and motor noise. I can't remember the last time I used the horn on my truck for anything other than to scare Alexis or Bailey when they'd walk in front of me. Folks in New York, they have mastered the art. Before I went to bed that night, I could speak the language of the New York City home. Some are even like a polite excuse me.

I'm changing lands. or look out, I need to back this truck up. Or go ahead, it's your turn. And the easily understandable, if you don't move, I'm going to show you the VIN number on my transmission as I run you over. I'm pretty sure I heard that horn the most. But we made our way into the city.

We drove through a tunnel under the Hudson River. There were no leaks detected. Trust me, I look. We entered the business district and passed a man who was talking to himself while peeing in a planter on the sidewalk in front of the store. People walked past him like he wasn't even there. And he continued his business as if they weren't either.

That was interesting. Before the trip was over, I'd find out how that cat got in that predicament. You don't just walk in a store and ask to use a bathroom. And being a customer won't automatically qualify you for the outhouse privileges either. Some of the fast food and mom and pop places had codes on the receipts to a common nation lock on the bathroom doors and some folks wouldn't let you use the bathroom for any reason. That was new. New to me anyway.

But I get it. You don't want your business turned into a sanctuary for bathroom breaks, but here's a New York City life hack for you. Find a Starbucks and you'll find a bathroom you can use without making a purchase. New York City Life hack number two. Make sure your tetan shot is up to date before you go in any public bathroom. That evening after checking in, we left the Intercontinental Hotel and walked over to Times Square, which, by the way, ain't square. I'd always assumed it was, and like most things you assume, I'd always been wrong.

It wasn't as big as I thought it'd be, and there was way more going on there than I could have ever imagined. Alexis had been there with their parents for the New Year's Eve celebration back when she was in high school. She told me stories about what she saw there, and I knew in my heart she was trying to prepare me for what I was about to see, and she did a pretty good job. The sights were a little overwhelming, but not bad, but what I wasn't ready for was the noise. It was relentless and unending, and not in a terrible way. I mean, I wasn't laying down on the sidewalk, rolling around and holding my ears, mainly because I didn't want to get stepped on by the mass of folks walking around just like me looking up at the tall building. instead of where they were stepping. Also, I wasn't sure where the mad pier was going to strike next.

The sounds were unending, and they lasted 24-7. The smell is a pretty unique, a combination of exhaust fumes and street vendor food and whatever was steaming up from those manhole covers out in the street, just like you see on the TV. Rockefeller Center was our next stop after walking through Times Square, and everyone except for a couple of us strapped on a pair of ice skates and started making laughs. I abstained and chose to remain ambulatory

while those who didn't risk injury and ridiculed. I confess it did it look like fun for those in our group who moved about on the ice the majority of the time on their skates. But for someone whose grace has been described as being like Ray Charles trying to walk through a punk and patch, I believe I chose wisely by remaining in the gallery. Last spring, Clay Newcomb and I collaborated with Jason Phelps at Phelps game calls

in building each of our own favorite turkey diaphragms called prime cuts. Now, I'm going to tell you, I love mine because it's easy to use. I'm not going to go, I'm not going to win a turkey calling contest. It's just not going to happen. But when I run this call, I get the sounds that gobblers are looking for. I have a great turkey hunting track record. If you go listen to real turkeys out in the woods, they're not going to win calling contests, right? That's who I listen to.

I can make those sounds on my cut. I also hunt with Phelps's cut, and I hunt with Clay's cut because they're all three great cuts. Check out Prime Cuts at Phelpsgamecalls.com. I think you'll be glad you did, and you'll find out that the Steve Ronella cut is an easy-to-use cut for beginning callers who just want to start making good turkey noises and getting action.

After a while, I walked in a fancy store next to the skating rink. There were shoes and purses and jewelry and clothes spaced out in there. And a lady welcomed me with a big smile and saying, Welcome to New York. Now, how did she know I wasn't from there? She was nice. And we visited for quite a while. She had a real customer come up,

and I stepped aside and eventually back out the door. That night for supper, we dined on authentic New York pizza at a place called John's Pizzeria of Times Square. It was recommended to me but my good friend, colleague, and show enough born-bred and highly decorated veteran of all things New York City, Corinne Schneider. Corinne's bona fides read like a laundry list of requirements to even apply for the title of Native New Yorker.

That food was good. And if you order a small pizza, be prepared to tote some home because that joker, It's as big as a wagon wheel. Thank you, Corinne. We lay down that night on the 10th floor of the hotel and watched out the window as all the lights and the cars and the sirens and the racket continued non-stop. It wasn't loud, you know, by any means. It was just a constant music bed, if you will, for the live episode we were all starring in as visitors to that strange world.

I asked Alexis to pull the curtains before. before we cut the light out. She said, we ought to leave them open to be able to see the skyline and all the pretty lights. Negative. There might be a sniper out there. She rolled her eyes at me.

She said, you're crazy. There's no sniper out there. And I said, oh, yeah. You know who else said that? She said, who? I told her everyone that's ever left the curtains open and gotten shot by a sniper. That's who.

The next morning I was on the street early, and we slipped over to a place and had some breakfast. Not a lot of folks on the street. Street early in the mornings. That was something I wasn't expecting. Traffic was light and the noise was still there, but just at lesser decibels. The big signs on Times Square still lit up, but there was only a few people caulking at them. This was the day that we'd come for, the day that the big show at Radio City Music Hall. The day we would get a behind-the-scenes tour and our

young dancers would meet a real dancer from the Rockets. We toured through the back hall, and stairways with a guide who went into intricate details about the building in its history that I found very interesting, and our girls saw as just one more hurdle to get to the whole point of the trip, to meet a real rocket. Then the appointed time arrived. We waited in a small room with a decorated wall that would serve as the backdrop when picture-taking time arrived. The girls were all giggling.

watching the door that had a big gold star hanging on it. And the tour guy to ask the girls if they were ready. And I said, yes, ma'am, at the same time most of them did. She knocked on the door, and a painstakingly few seconds later out walked a real live rocket. She asked the girls who stared at her grinning like jack-o-lanterns if they had any questions. And I thought, here it is. the moment I figured they'd all started once, just machine gunning questions, faster than she could hear, much less answered. And not one child uttered the sound. They just stood there looking at her and smiling.

It was worth every penny in every moment of that trip to just see them seeing her. We got the pictures, took, said our goodbyes, and eventually found our seats where we'd watch the Christmas spectacular, starring the Radio City Rockets, a show that has segments performed the same way since it opened on December 21st, 19 to 33. Now, I'm not sure who enjoyed it more, the kids or the adults, but I'd go tonight and I'd watch it all again. We saw a lot of things, and we did a lot of things while we were there.

We rode a subway, and I can check that off the list. it was my least enjoyable experience of the entire trip, and the patience of those folks that do that every day is beyond my comprehension. I kept expecting people to be rude and obnoxious and act like the way they're portrayed in the old black and white movies that Alexis and I watch all the time. I didn't find that to be the case at all. If I'd been them and had some joker that talked like me

who was oblivious to every protocol known to them as being, second nature, I couldn't say I wouldn't behave like the old movies, but they didn't. The last morning we were there, I got up early and I went out by myself. The girls were still sound asleep and there was no agenda for the group. I picked a diner for coffee from Google and I headed down the street, just me and an early Tuesday morning in New York. I turned west away from Times Square and walked a half a block away, turned the corner, and a man welcomed me to the West Way diner.

A lady with a beautiful accent named Bianca showed me to a table and brought me some coffee. There weren't many people in there yet, and folks were walking past the big front window that had a Thanksgiving turkey painted on it like they were on a mission. Most of them dressed for work and kids dressed for school. Two blocks away from Times Square was a different world that seemed far removed from the hustle and bustle of the endless sea of. people. Sitting across from me was a young man and his grandmother. Two tables away, she was tiny and spryd. She watched him with pride while he told her about his latest adventures. It made me miss my grandmother. And the way she looked at me when I told her a story about something

I'd done playing football or a deer or a turkey that I'd killed and she'd just brag on me to me. Telling me how good I'd done while actually understanding. a fraction of what I was telling her, but you'd never known it. That was the look that she gave him, that look that I had seen from my own grandmother, and I took their picture without them seeing. I didn't really have to. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment while I sat there alone and joined my breakfast and a cup of coffee in a city.

I never dreamed I'd visit and watching what could have taken place in my grandmother's house or at any grandmother's house, anywhere in the world. That's what I learned from this trip and something that I preach constantly how in spite of all our differences we really are a whole lot more alike than we think and certainly more than I thought. The 911 Memorial was something every American should see and experience. It was a very humbling and moving place. And the events and the sacrifices of that day should never be forgotten. softened by time or relegated as a footnote in history. It was the only place in the city where I didn't hear the noises I heard everywhere else.

At least I didn't notice them. The area where the tower stood was smaller than I imagined it would be. I'd walked away from our group, lost in thought, and I talked with a young man who worked there. And he just out of the blue asked me if I was a policeman. And I said, yes? He used to be. And he smiled and he said, thank you.

And he caught me off guard for the first time since I got there. I wasn't expecting that. I shook his hand and I suddenly found it very hard to talk. It's hard for me to tell the story now. But I just nodded to him and I had to walk away. I'm sitting here today less than 24 hours from getting back home thinking about all I did there and the silence is deafening, and my ears are still either ringing from the den of the city or the sound of silence is a real thing.

I ran into Caleb Hubbard on the streets in New York City who was traveling with his wife from Southern California on vacation. Caleb listens to this country life, and he got my attention by saying, Brent, is that you? Yep, that's me. We had a good visit, and I appreciated him saying something to me. The reach of this show was beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and all the credit goes to y'all who listen and share it with your friends and family

and anyone you think would enjoy it. Now, if that wasn't enough, while waiting on our flight home, I see a meat eater logo T-shirt walking toward me in the LaGuardia Airport. Randy Ballard is a native of Pester, Texas. and of this country life listener himself. We had a good conversation, and believe it or not, a lady in our group, Miss Cassie Burns, graduated from the same high school that Randy did in Northeast Texas.

Get off that phone and look around you. We're missing no telling how many opportunities a day to make a connection with someone. Randy sent me a message today and said his pals didn't believe him when he told him that he ran into me at the airport. Well, Randy's friends, if Randy tells you a rooster dip snuff, you don't have to wait until he spits to believe what he says. You know, that grandmother and her grandson and Caleb and Randy, they're all examples of how folks from different parts of this great country of ours all have common interest and things that should bring us closer together rather than push us further apart. We're really not that different.

some of y'all just talk that way. Thank y'all so much for listening to me and Claybow here on the Bear Grease channel. And until next week, this is Brent Reeves, signing off. Y'all be careful. First Lights fieldwear collection is made for the work that happens long before opening day and continues when the season ends. Products built for early mornings, full days in real use. Hard wearing where they need to be versatile where it matters.

No shortcuts. Just gear designed for the work that earns the season. Built to perform, built to last. Check out. First Light's new fieldware gear at firstlight.com.