I never saw a purple cow.
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow
I’d rather see than be one.
Gelett Burgess, 1866-1951
A funny way to begin a blog, I know. But I’ve been thinking about Grandma Myrtle. She introduced me to the purple cow in Tillamook, Oregon, circa 1970s. For many of my little girl years, a feed store along the main drag from her house featured a large purple cow in the window. We spotted that purple cow in the window EVERY time we drove by.
I know now, thanks to Wikipedia and elsewhere, the history of the purple cow. A purple cow is different. It stands out. It doesn’t follow the crowd. It thinks for itself, and it’s what I want for myself. It’s what I want for my kids.
Of course, that can backfire, can’t it? Standing out from the crowd is sometimes the last thing I want to do. Here’s the author’s response poem to his original work:
Ah, yes! I wrote the Purple Cow
I’m Sorry, now, I Wrote it,
But I can Tell you Anyhow
I’ll Kill you if you Quote it.
Gelett BURGESS 1866-1951
I didn’t choose “purplepraise” because of a purple cow, though it did trigger a memory. The reason I chose “purplepraise” is because I am a daughter of the the King. Even though most days I don’t feel like it, I am royalty.
1 Peter 2:9 says it skillfully, “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light…”