My Dad and Horses

Throughout my life, my father was a big supporter of my love of horses. He glued countless china horses that had broken legs,

bought me my first Breyer and helped me give it the tongue in cheek name "Needles" (after the famous racehorse) when I had some dental work done,

and bought me my first horses. (Dad and me down by the Wabash with Flame while she gets a hoof trim.)

Recently I found a couple of old family pictures of him with horses that I had never seen before.

Oh Boy, the circus pony my grandfather bought him in the 1930s (my father is the tall boy in the middle.) 

My grandmother, Mimmy, with Dad around 1925.

The photo is dated Spring, 1926 so Dad would be almost three.

In the early part of the 20th century, photographers used to make money by hauling around taxidermied ponies and taking photos of kids on them. (Not my cuppa Vanilla Coke Zero!)

This is my dad on one of those monstrosities in Chicago when he was four.

I think my father supported my love of horses because he, too, had a fondness for them. Whenever he spoke about his pony Oh Boy, he would smile and his eyes would light up. He loved having our horses, too - one of my fondest memories of him is that when he would come home from work, he'd go down to the gate first and visit with them before coming into the house.

Did Dad pass that love down to me? Is that where my pony passion comes from? I'll never know for sure, but I am glad that he and I share that horsey trait.