While I’ve lived in WNY for almost a decade, I was born in Arizona and spent a good deal of my childhood in Nevada. I’ve chased lizards, rode horses through sagebrush, been bowled-over by more than one tumbleweed and my father wore cowboy boots.
Walther is a character that hangs out in my head. He’s the sum of a motley lineup of hard-working, ornery men that have passed through my life.
He’s the kind of guy who works through a problem with rough, calloused hands and grit. He’s as weathered and worn as a herdsman’s saddle.
His job is to pop up and let me know when something smells like bullshit – he always does it in a western drawl and occasionally with a wink and a nod.