When I was fourteen years old I sat on my bed dazed at the realization that there was no way that my knees were going to allow me to play baseball much longer. If I was not a baseball player then who would I be? Not what would I be, but who would I be? My self identity at the time was that I was the person who absolutely spattered anyone who tried to reach home plate. I was a catcher/goalie/gatekeeper/bouncer/mine field. The most exciting moments in my life were when someone would try to run over me in order to score. That was a pleasure that could not last.
Music and horses last. This is a shot from the day after Thanksgiving when we gathered at the Little House and I was teaching some of my little riders a few ancient songs with meaning. Look closely at the back of the head that you see in the picture. That is Daddy. He is about 73 or 74. He started working plow horses in the field before he was old enough to go to school. He started playing guitar a few years later. He still plays guitar, rides, trains, and helps with all of the physical work involved in keeping everything going.
When my little riders are grown they will put aside childish things but they will carry with them a knowledge and love of horses that will last life long.
1 comment:
One of the side effects of military service is that the longer a person is in, the more they tend to wrap themselves in their rank and job specialty, it becomes a major portion of their personality...which can lead to some big issues upon retirement or discharge.
Some things cannot last. therein lies a rather profound rub.
perhaps if I had found horses earlier, it would have been a little different.
It is nice to have something to wrap oneself in that will last..there is nothing like when world time slows down to horse time..breathing and moving with the horse..much better place to be. -Lloyd
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