Sunday, October 15, 2017
My High-Heel, Pointed Toe, Cowboy Boots...
By: Donovan Baldwin
I was once guilty of animal cruelty.
Sorry about that, but he started it.
Here's how it happened.
I used to go horseback riding in Pensacola, Florida. This would have been about 1966.
The area is car dealerships now. Back then, there were fields, pecan orchards, and a riding stable. I went riding every week for several months.
At first, I rode wearing tennis shoes, until one day they gave me an ill-tempered horse, who had a habit of turning his head and trying to bite your feet.
They warned me. Told me to just kick him in the mouth and he would stop.
Well, seems this horse didn't mind if you kicked him with tennis shoes. So, I rode him up to their store, went inside, and bought a pair of pointy-toed, high heeled, cowboy boots.
Got back in the saddle.
He tried to bite one more time.
I kicked him one more time.
Problem solved, resolution achieved.
Of course, in those days I had no more use for the boots, except when I went riding.
However, I thought they made me look cool.
When the army sent me to Germany, I found they had a certain appeal to some Germans...especially of the female persuasion.
A lot of times we do things that seem to make sense at the time.
Sometimes, when the real reason has passed, we find other reasons to keep on doing what we do. Sometimes it doesn't really matter.
I could have switched horses, I guess, and never bought my fancy, pointed toe, high heel, cowboy boots.
Although they generated interest, I really didn't pick up more chicks, and they hurt my feet.
The horse won in the long run, I guess.
Sorry about that, but he started it.
Here's how it happened.
I used to go horseback riding in Pensacola, Florida. This would have been about 1966.
The area is car dealerships now. Back then, there were fields, pecan orchards, and a riding stable. I went riding every week for several months.
At first, I rode wearing tennis shoes, until one day they gave me an ill-tempered horse, who had a habit of turning his head and trying to bite your feet.
They warned me. Told me to just kick him in the mouth and he would stop.
Well, seems this horse didn't mind if you kicked him with tennis shoes. So, I rode him up to their store, went inside, and bought a pair of pointy-toed, high heeled, cowboy boots.
Got back in the saddle.
He tried to bite one more time.
I kicked him one more time.
Problem solved, resolution achieved.
Of course, in those days I had no more use for the boots, except when I went riding.
However, I thought they made me look cool.
When the army sent me to Germany, I found they had a certain appeal to some Germans...especially of the female persuasion.
A lot of times we do things that seem to make sense at the time.
Sometimes, when the real reason has passed, we find other reasons to keep on doing what we do. Sometimes it doesn't really matter.
I could have switched horses, I guess, and never bought my fancy, pointed toe, high heel, cowboy boots.
Although they generated interest, I really didn't pick up more chicks, and they hurt my feet.
The horse won in the long run, I guess.
Labels: cowboy boots, donovan baldwin, Florida, horse, horseback riding, life lesson, Pensacola
Tuesday, May 09, 2017
Poem: Blackie And The Bear
By: Donovan Baldwin
The nurse said, "Mr. Owens,
It's time you were in bed."
The old man gave a gentle smile
And gravely bowed his head.
As she helped him from the wheelchair,
She thought she heard him say,
"Tonight I'll ride with Blackie,
And he and Bear can play."
It was sad to see the weak old thing
Lose the little sense he'd kept.
So, as she put his things away,
The young girl quietly wept.
Then she found the crumpled paper,
Almost tossed it in the trash.
Except for "Corporal Owens",
That her eyes caught in a flash.
As she read the yellowed pages
The walls moved out and back.
She saw a Mountie on a killer's trail
Out on a Yukon track.
It was the tale of Corporal Owens
Upon the page she read,
A hero of the Yukon,
Dressed in Mountie red.
She began to wonder of the sights
The dim old eyes could see...
The mountains and the meadows,
Rivers wild and free.
It saddened her that this fine man
Raved like a madman there
In his mind gone out to play
With Blackie and some bear.
"He's reverted to his childhood,
Or made up a place to play."
Then she saw the picture
As she began to turn away.
It was a tall young Mountie
On a horse as dark as dark,
And beside them sat a huskie,
As if about to bark.
On the back she saw the writing,
"Rick, his dog and horse."
Then in the dark of that quiet room,
Things went from bad to worse.
The breathing of the old man
Rasped out in the night,
And the nurse reached for the button,
In momentary fright.
She then pulled back her hand,
As the man began to smile.
She knew that he had saddled up,
To ride a last long mile.
Yes, tonight there'll be a rider
In the freezing Yukon air,
On a horse that he calls Blackie,
Beside the huskie he named Bear.
More poetry by Donovan Baldwin at http://ravensong.mysite.com/index.html.
It's time you were in bed."
The old man gave a gentle smile
And gravely bowed his head.
As she helped him from the wheelchair,
She thought she heard him say,
"Tonight I'll ride with Blackie,
And he and Bear can play."
It was sad to see the weak old thing
Lose the little sense he'd kept.
So, as she put his things away,
The young girl quietly wept.
Then she found the crumpled paper,
Almost tossed it in the trash.
Except for "Corporal Owens",
That her eyes caught in a flash.
As she read the yellowed pages
The walls moved out and back.
She saw a Mountie on a killer's trail
Out on a Yukon track.
It was the tale of Corporal Owens
Upon the page she read,
A hero of the Yukon,
Dressed in Mountie red.
She began to wonder of the sights
The dim old eyes could see...
The mountains and the meadows,
Rivers wild and free.
It saddened her that this fine man
Raved like a madman there
In his mind gone out to play
With Blackie and some bear.
"He's reverted to his childhood,
Or made up a place to play."
Then she saw the picture
As she began to turn away.
It was a tall young Mountie
On a horse as dark as dark,
And beside them sat a huskie,
As if about to bark.
On the back she saw the writing,
"Rick, his dog and horse."
Then in the dark of that quiet room,
Things went from bad to worse.
The breathing of the old man
Rasped out in the night,
And the nurse reached for the button,
In momentary fright.
She then pulled back her hand,
As the man began to smile.
She knew that he had saddled up,
To ride a last long mile.
Yes, tonight there'll be a rider
In the freezing Yukon air,
On a horse that he calls Blackie,
Beside the huskie he named Bear.
More poetry by Donovan Baldwin at http://ravensong.mysite.com/index.html.
Labels: Canada, dog, horse, Mounties, nurse, poem, poem about a Mountie, poem about a nurse, poetry, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Yukon
