Oh, Bill.

 

He was an impetuous youth in the wrong year born.

 

Where others saw books and boards from a desk,

He saw

An open plain from his saddle on a horse.

Feet made for boots,

Hands made for ropes.

In a different time, another place, my brother

Would have been a cowboy.

  This photo is Bill with his horse, Sonny, a 2 yr. old quarter horse. Fast, I was lucky to be alive after riding it one time only.

The bold underlined words were prompts from Delores who gifted us with enigmatic phrases that fit well with my thoughts and mood.  
Thank you, Delores.

Delores set up a great series "Wednesday Words", encouraging writers. She 

handed off the baton to other bloggers to submit other crazy words. Please check these sites:

River  and Elephant's Child

I encourage you to join in.  
Please.  
Share your own mood and thoughts.

  This was written but not posted in 2022.

Sweetheart and Katie

 

These are 2 horses from Dr. J. Smith Thomas stable - that are buried in the southwest corner of Crescent Heights Cemetery in Pleasant Hill, IL in what is known as the Thomas Addition lies a little bit of unusual history. 

 

A one-of-a-kind marker, with faintly readable script that reads "Sweetheart" and "Katie." Altho it is not known when they died or how, Thomas purchased the memorial in November of 1905, although he owned several horses Sweetheart and Katie were his favorites. Story has it they never missed a house call with the doctor.

Crescent Heights Cemetery, Pleasant, IL

From The Pike Press April 21, 1993 - These are 2 horses from J. Smith Thomas stable - that are buried in the southwest corner of Crescent Heights Cemetery in Pleasant Hill in what is known as the Thomas Addition lies a little bit of unusual history. 

 

A one-of-a-kind marker, with faintly readable script that reads "Sweetheart" and "Katie". Although it is not known when they died or how, Thomas purchased the memorial in November of 1905, although he owned several horses Sweetheart and Katie were his favorites. Story has it they never missed a house call with the doctor.

Grandma said that these horses had the routes memorized. If Dr. Thomas fell asleep after a late night house visit, they took him home.

 

A doctor in a small rural county is a gift.  Not every town had a doctor, or even access to one.

Sunshine and Fate

Source: kodakgold

It was fate, down-right fate.  Taking Sunshine to this Consignment Store where bling and style lined each rack and each shelf, was fate.

Grandma told Sunshine they were looking at purses and cool clothes while they waited for Bright Eyes to
finish her dance class.  With only ten minutes to go, this seemed a safe option.

Entering the door that rang with an old fashioned bell over the door, they found that bling did exist and in great quantities.  But there was something else.

In a place of honor was a pair of women cowboy boots.  Of course, boots are made of leather (if they are true cowboy boots).  These boots sported the hide that once decorated a rust and white cow.  These boots were soft and pretty.

Sunshine cried, “OH, NO!” and ran to embrace the boots. 

“Oh, Grandma!  Please tell me these boots are not made from a horse!  ‘Cause Spirit’s girlfriend horse had fur JUST LIKE THIS!”  She cradled the boots.  She gazed at Grandma, with wide blue eyes glistening with tears.

Per Wikipedia, God bless 'em

Then she looked accusingly at the two women who ran the store.  “I am an animal lover, and horses are almost human!  Are these made from a horse?!”

The two women were horrified at the very thought.  They reassured Sunshine that those boots were made from a cow; boots would NEVER be made from horses.  EVER!

Grandma distracted Sunshine with a blingey purse, but the seven year old gave the women an evil look that said, “You’d better be telling the truth.”

They nodded silently.

G-H post: part 1, Galloping--Spirit of the Horse

source

The G-H posts veer  away from my tilted writing.  These two posts will actually be an attempt at a serious appreciation of the horse.  I-J posts return with my turn-it-over-and-shake-it approach to writing.

The concept of beauty conjures many images, as beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder.  At any given time, beauty appears as a flower, child, landscape, art object—endless possibilities.

source

Casting my own net about in the sea of beauty, the image of a galloping horse was drawn up.  It was not a random catch.  Horses are one of the most spectacular creatures on God’s earth.

I made a random choice while shopping with a three-year old granddaughter, Sunshine.  She was restrained in the shopping cart (for good reason) and there was a video with the word Spirit as its title.  Sunshine clutched it to her little chest and gave me that pleading piercing gaze only a  3 yr. old child can give. 

  

                                 

Since then, Spirit has been shown innumerable times—so many that even my husband knows the dialogue.  Each time, Sunshine ‘gallops’ around the house, tossing her hair and neighing in unison with the herd of galloping horses.

Tomorrow's post will continue the G-H post about horses.  How did the natives populations view the horse?  

...Then he met Samuel: Cowboy Bob

Dreams

When Robert Lewis Sherman was a child with wide-open eyes, he knew this: He would be a cowboy named “Cheyenne”, spit whenever he felt like it, and wear a Stetson low on his brow.  He would gnaw on a tooth-pick, kick doors open, and drink strong bitter coffee.

When he turned 21, his eyes were mere slits and he trusted no one, believed in no one, and growled at everyone.  Robert “Bad Man” graduated from Berkeley with great expectations.

Now Robert “Loner” Sherman worked at a Wal-Mart at the Optical department where he was an optometrist, a surprise to his family and especially to himself.  

The only connection he had now to his cowboy dream was a pony named “Shaggy” he had adopted and kept stabled at a nearby ranch.  

 His Saturdays were spent in two ways:  grooming Shaggy, and/or making extra cash at kids’ birthday parties as “Cowboy Bob” with his wily pony whose stage name was “Thunder”. 

Oddly, those were the happiest hours of his endlessly mind-numbing days.

Then came Samuel and his damned third birthday…

My Secret Desire

My brother Bill with 'Sonny'

I have always been a secret cowboy, yes.  In my mind, I am riding a white Andalusia horse across the golden hills of Santa Barbara.  I would be young again, with long chestnut hair; my horse would fly across the golden land, and we would never stop.  Yes, that is my dream.

In reality, the only ‘horses’ I have ridden with any success are on the carousel at the fair or the ponies who miserably plod around in a circle. 

My brother Bill was a real cowboy; he bought a two year old quarter horse when he was in high school. When he became an adult (well, he grew to adult size, anyway), he lived in Texas and had several horses.  He even talked like a Texan.

My brother, Bill, in 1992

I came home from college one weekend after Bill had gotten ‘Sonny’.  He asked, “Wanta ride ‘im?” Sensing no subterfuge, I eagerly climbed up, and held the reins the way I remembered from my pony-riding days.  I even make that click-click sound, the one I’d heard in all the cowboy shows ever made.

Sonny took off, and I mean he took off like a rocket.  As he headed up the road, Bill’s laughter filled the air.  I was hanging on for my very life, and he was laughing. 

When Sonny finally stopped after going a quarter mile (I swear), I jumped down, and lead the blasted animal back home.  I didn’t sit for two days. 

My red boots next to my spinning wheel, things I have collected

I will never ever ride a horse again, I think.  I don’t want to hurt something that may not heal.  So instead, I bought something that will have to substitute: red cowboy boots.

Yup, pardner.  I may never fly across the plains on my white horse, but I will strut like nobody’s business in my red cowboy boots.