The rodeo is coming to town!

I always seem to reminisce about my childhood when the rodeo comes to town.  I always think about my Daddy and how horses became a part of my life.  When I was about 10 years old my friend Mike Castle had a bicycle.  I wanted a bicycle.  I just had to have a bicycle.

So picture it, Christmas morning 1953.  I found a large box with Schwinn on the side, under the tree with my name on the tag.  It was a huge box, just the right size for the bicycle I had been dreaming about.  When I unwrapped the gift and opened the box, it didn’t take me long to come to the realization that there wasn’t a bicycle in the box.  After removing a mound of newspaper, there at the bottom of the box were long leather straps with metal pieces attached and a note that read “The rest is in the barn”.  Still hopeful to find that bicycle, I ran down to the barn to have my worst fear confirmed. Yes, you guessed it.  It had 4 legs and a tail, not two wheels and handlebars.

While pretending to be as excited as the rest of my family, I’ll admit I was a little disappointed.  His name was Smokey.  He was the most cantankerous, ornery, high-spirited horse you can imagine and I was now his owner.

A few years earlier, a boy in town was hit by a car while riding his bicycle and was seriously injured.  My parents determined bicycles to be too dangerous.  So, (pause for dramatic effect) they bought me a horse.  Not a kid-friendly type, but a cantankerous, ornery, high-spirited…you get the picture, right?

Now, before you all start feeling sorry for me.  I had a friend named Jim Arthur.  Jim had a horse and his Dad happened to be T.L. Arthur, Lindale High School’s Agriculture teacher.  Mr. Arthur was Mr. Agriculture.  He knew everything about farming and animals, and with his help and my Daddy’s too, I began to enjoy Smokey and riding horses.  Jim and I would ride our horses all over town.  We would ride in the country, down Boyd Street, over to Perryman Road, and out Woodsprings Road.  We spent many summers riding, just because it was fun.

Over the years, our family has had several horses, and mules and donkeys.   We had Beauty, and Dusty, Squaw and Pepper, Dot and Ace and I can’t leave out “Larsie the “Harsie”.   We’ve rode in parades, saddle club events, raised colts and even had “Pasture Ornaments” or in other words big ole pets.  I’ve been acquainted with almost every kind of “Horse People”, from barrel racers to historical re-enactors and from trail riders to English dressage riders.  I have come to understand that horses are like music.   There are numerous different genres and styles, some fast and some slow.  Some are therapeutic and some you don’t understand at all.  I have also come to understand that “Horse People” are like musicians.  Some favor certain genres, and some like a certain rhythm.  Some are better with instruments than others, while some just appreciate God’s creation.  A true music lover respects the music. True “Horse people” respect the horse.

Isn’t it funny how as a child something that seems like a disappointment turns out to make some of your fondest memories?  I sometimes wonder what if there would have been a bicycle in that box and where my Dad got an empty Schwinn box?