June 2020 FRC Member Newsletter

Member Memories
large, rolling field of weeds and scrubby bushes. I remember Mr. Michael tacking up the GOR-
GEOUS mare and marching her to the top of the hill and lungeing her. She was wild! She was
beautiful! She was the prettiest horse I had ever seen! (I felt like Black Beauty the first time he set
eyes on Ginger!!) My Dad kept asking me if I liked her, what I thought about her, over and over. I
was raised a polite Southern girl and I had already told Mr. Michael countless times how lovely she
was and thanked him so much for letting me pet her, see her, brush her, etc. So, I was beginning to
get a little annoyed that my Dad kept pushing me to comment more and more. There we were, on a
windy November day, watching this wild, beauty gallop around on the lunge when my Dad said to
me “Happy Birthday, Kiddle, she’s yours”. (OK, tears are rolling down my cheeks as I type this just
like they did that day and every time I tell this story). You could have knocked me over with a blade
of grass. I cried and cried with every bit of joy you can possibly imagine. For $300 including saddle
and bridle, Choo Choo was mine. And thus, my life with horses began. Oh, the tales I could tell of
our years together. She was my very best friend on earth and always will be. I told her everything. I
sang to her. I cried into her shoulder. I laughed in delight as we galloped over fields and through
woods. We swam in ponds and crossed streams, and raced trains, and chased armadillos. We
lived in North Carolina, South Carolina, Texas, and California together. In the beginning, I knew
nothing and somehow, my parents just thought I would learn by osmosis. No helmet, tennis shoes,
no riding lessons. After Mr. Michael showed me how to put the saddle and bridle on, my Mom just
dropped me off at the barn every day and came back however many hours later to pick me up.
That first barn was out in the middle of no where and no one else rode there. There were a lot of
pastured horses with no interacting owners. The tack room had rats as large as cats. I fell off at
least every three days until I learned how to stay on. Ignorance is bliss. The ignorant are spared.
What you don’t know won’t kill you. Thank you for small blessings every day. I rode her through all
of her young years (and mine) on the trails and out on journeys together almost daily. There can be
nothing better than those times I spent exploring with her. We did some very stupid things. But we
had so much fun. She was as game as I was and we challenged the world together. She was twenty
nine years old when I had to say Good-bye. I had kept her with me for 25 years. She heard every
bit of my life’s stories and emotions as I grew from a twelve year old girl to a thirty seven year old
woman. When I started teaching lessons, Choo Choo taught many, many children and adults how
to ride. She was a sweet and gentle soul who shared herself so willingly. Choo Choo taught me
what real friendship is and that there is a love that lives forever.
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