Horses

My first horse was a rocking horse. It was set upon springs attached to a metal frame. The horse was made out of some kind of plastic stuff-- a golden painted coat with blond mane and tail. It had reins too, leather ones attached to c-rings round the sides of its head. The rocking horse was set up in the kitchen off to one side and I spent quite some time "riding" it and repeating words like "Hi ho Silver" while I was at it.

My parents had an old black-and-white Dodge with a red interior. I didn't mind sitting in the back because there was a handle from a broom back there. I would straddle it and balance on the armrest and "ride" while [usually it was] my mother drove. I remember "riding" my makeshift horse as my mother was speeding up a hill in Jersey City. Nowadays I suppose she would get pulled over because I was quite the obstruction in her rearview mirror.

When I was in junior high school, my dad bought two horses. His was a wild black thing named Domino. My horse was named Spain. She was brown and very easy to ride. She responded to voice commands and knee commands as well as to the reins. Spain and I spent many pleasant hours in the [reservation] woods behind Turtle Back Zoo. There was a gaggle of kids around the stables and I became friends with at least one or two of them. Off we would go on the horses down the road to the trails. After a good ride to the waterfalls, we took the horses to MacDonald's. One of us would run in and the horses were treated to those high-sodium fried burgers which I am quite sure were no better for them than they are for us.

After a few years of bliss, the horses were traded in for downhill ski equipment. I had several wild winters on the slopes of New Jersey, New York, and Vermont. I got lessons but was a bit of a reckless one screaming, "To your left," or "To your right," as I went bombing down some mountain or other out of control and somewhat stoned. Some ski bum in Vernon Valley taught me how to ski backwards down the mountain. The ski patrol let us be. I don't know why. Skiing backwards is very similar to ice skating backwards, only on a downhill slant. I was able to jump moguls by time I moved down south.

Once I moved back north, it was cross-country skiing in the same woods that I hiked in the summers that stole my heart away. The only money involved was gas to get there and back. The added advantage was that I could take whatever dog or dogs owned me at the time. I have two sets of xc skis. Now I also have snowshoes and much prefer them because I get to break through really deep snow.

These years later, I still remember Spain with a fondness. I had many drunken and high times on the slopes but it is that gentle brown horse that shines in my memory.

sapphoq on life