You Know You're Getting Old When -------> and Star, the Welsh Pony Short Story

You have your stove timer set to remind you to turn on "The Wheel."  (rimshot)


Well, I've got some good and bad news.  Let's start with the good.


1.  JOB: I talked to Brit, Paul, and Kev today.  OMG!  I've mentioned names - AGAIN!  Only cause I love you, and it was too great to "talk" to each of you.  We chatted on FB.  We chatted about job related stuff, really.  Thanks for the link, Kev.


2.  WEIGHT:  I'm on my second LARGE, yellow "cup" of water with lemon.  Thanks for the personal trainer hook-up, Brit.


3.  CHEERING UP:  I'm definitely happier than I was this morning.  Thanks for the cheering up, Paul.


4.  SMOKING:  The cigarettes are starting to annoy me.  Yeah, I know - All Y'all Can't Wait.  OO LA LA.  :(  all right, chin up.  :)  :D


The bad?  Ah, come on.  You don't want to hear the bad, do you?  I can keep it to myself, really.  It should go without saying, right?


Yeah.


I think today might be the day for "Star, The Welsh Pony."


When Lyons and West Elementary Schools merged in (fill in the year - oh classmates of mine - I dare you!) - Gretchen and I discovered that we'd lived one block from each other for years!  This was disconcerting, but we decided to make the best of it; a very good decision.  Oh the many, many stories of fun that I've told over the years about Gretchen and her wonderful family.  I practically lived at her house.  This was a very good decision, too.


Gretchen had horses.  Debbie across the street had ponies.  I had none.


Most days we would hang at Debbie's 'cause she had seven ponies.  There were enough for everyone to ride, technically. 


"Oh, and you get Star," Debbie told me, "You're new, so if you want to ride; you get Star."


"Debbie!" Gretchen interjected, "That's not Fair!  She doesn't have a horse.  Nobody can ride Star."


"You wanna give her Misty?"  Debbie retorted.


Gretchen looked at me, shook her head, and looked down.


"That's OK," I said, "I'll give him a go."


"All right," said Debbie, and she turned to grab another rope, "You've got to catch him."


"I'll help," Gretchen whispered to me.


Star was standing way down at the end of the pasture.  His sorel coat caught the sun.  When he turned his head to look at us his white blaze shown like a star.  I fell in love.


He was bigger than all the other Shetland ponies.  He was leaner.  I would learn that he was meaner.


Gretchen and I finally coaxed him closer to the barn with a carrot.  Gretchen showed me how to clip on the lead line and tie it to the other ring on the halter; then, she showed me how to grab a good fistful of mane and the rope rein in one hand and gently run my hand up his side to the middle of his back.  All the while she was telling me how to do everything, she was talking in the most calming voice to Star. 


"Yeah, and you just nonchalantly ..." 


(I'm sorry, but I do have to interject here that Gretchen not only knew the meaning of nonchalant, but so did I.  We would soon fall in love with antidisestablishmentarianism, http://encyclopedia.kids.net.au/page/an/Antidisestablishmentarianism .  It was the Fall of Fourth Grade.)


"... run the rope around your neck, huh.  You're not such a bad guy, are you.  ... and you tie it like this.  That's right.  You want another carrot?  You like apples, too?"


On and on she went; yet it was a flash.  Star was happy to take as many carrots as she'd give him with arrogant snorts fully conveying that he'd do just as much as he pleased to get what he wanted.  I heard.  I had no idea how serious he was.


She went over to Misty and showed me how to mount by first jumping and putting a bit of weight on her right arm to see if Misty would stay still.  Gretchen knew that Misty would stay still.  She figured that Star wouldn't.  She was right.


It came to the point where I told Gretchen to go ride Misty with the others and let Star and me figure things out.  She left, but she constantly rode by the pen at a trot or gallop looking at me while Star did everything but buck to keep me from getting on his back.  I walked with him holding his halter for a long time between each failed attempt telling him that I really wanted to ride him and more.  I told him when kids rode by laughing that they were laughing at him, too.  Oh yeah.  He shook his head and snorted. 


We finally stopped, and he let me get on his back.  I sat very still.  I thanked him.  I watched his ears twitch and point back at me; then, the kids laughed and rode by.  He snorted, shook his head, cocked his ears forward and took off.


We rounded the corner of the barn and headed straight to the end of the pasture.  I gripped his sides and hung on for dear life to his mane and the rope.  I pulled back and said, "Whoa!"  I pulled back harder and yelled, "WHOA!"  He whoaed.


Damn bastard ...


(Sorry, again - no, I didn't know the word, "bastard" then, and that's yet another story; but if I had known the word then, well, it is a beautiful word that fits so well sometimes)


... made a 90 degree turn three feet from the barbed-wire fence and came to a complete halt.  I went flying.


I landed about six inches from the fence and about two inches from his horse manure.  He started to walk away.


"HEY!" I yelled springing to my feet, "Where do you think you're going?!"


He stopped and looked at me.  He stayed right where he was the whole time I cursed him out for being so mean.  I went up to his left side because Debbie had told me that he would only be mounted from the left and proceded to get on his back again.  He promptly lowered his head and bucked me off.  I went flying.  When I got up, he hadn't moved.  There he stood, looking over his shoulder at me shaking his head, snorting and now, yes now, pawing the ground.


"What?" I muttered, brushing the dirt and horse poop off me, "Oh that's it.  I'm riding you."


I calmed my tone and body as I approached him, "OK, let's try this again."


He let me mount him.  He let me sit there.  I lifted the rope to suggest we might walk, and he promptly bucked me off. 


"OK, let's get it all out.  I can only mount you from the left.  I can't sit too close to your neck, and I can't sit too far back on your butt.  That's it.  I'm getting on from the right."


He bucked me off.  I went to the left and sat too far forward.  He rolled me down his neck.  I mounted from the left and sat too far back.  He bounced me off.  I went to the right and got on him.  He bucked.  I flew.


I don't know how long this went on, nor do I know how many times I repeated the steps in a random order; but eventually, he bucked; and I stayed on. He bucked some more. I stayed on. He bucked and bucked and bucked. I STAYED ON! We relaxed for a while. He bucked me off.

I got up laughing, dusting myself off, limping a bit, went to his left side, mounted him perfectly placing myself in "the sweet spot" and sat.  It was sloppy.  It was filled with resolve, resignation, and respect.  He shook his head and pulled at the rope.  I let him go.  He nibbled on some grass.  I leaned back and layed on his butt and looked up at the sky.  He raised his head, whinnied a bit, and went back to eating.
 
Star and I came to some sort of agreement.  It happened in an instant.  It was a twitch and calm.  We did it.  We sat at the end of the pasture together; just the two of us.  We understood that we wouldn't tell; then, I sat up and looked at all the other kids and ponies.  Star raised his head.
 
"Whadda ya say, Star?  Should we?"


We took off!  Star galloped to the front of the pasture.  I gripped my legs and let him go.  I was riding Star, the Welsh Pony; the pony nobody could ride.


What a ride it was.  He was smooth and fast.  He made riding bareback for the first time so easy.  I adjusted my weight to make it as easy for him as I could.  I gripped my knees to his sides just enough to keep my balance.  We learned.


After we'd barreled up to the front, we wove in-between the other ponies and kids.  We scared them.  As they gained control of their mounts, I laughed and asked Star to stop with a gentle pull on the rope and loosening of my knees.  He responded perfectly.  We trotted up to the rest while they sat with their mouthes hanging open.  I swear the ponies were in shock, too.  It was my "Homecoming Queen" moment; riding by everybody, smiling on top of the prettiest and fastest pony in the pasture.  Just an instant of complete perfection.


It didn't take long for Gretchen and Misty to snap out of it and walk towards us.  Star and I switched to a canter.  Gretchen and Misty followed us.  The rest of the kids followed us.  We galloped.  We tore from one end of the pasture to the other.  We laid on our ponies and talked.  We hung out until we were called for dinner.  I left knowing that Star was mine, and I was his forever. 


On my short walk home, I skipped, laughed, jumped, and smiled so big my cheeks hurt.  I'd like to think that I told my parents about my day, or at least Alice or my brother; but I can't remember. 


I do remember so many happy days with Star and Gretchen.  So many, many happy days.  This was a very good time in my childhood.