if wishes were horses...

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride," my mother would say every time I begged for a pony. I don't know what that had to do with anything; my wishes were for horses. There wasn't a birthday or Christmas between ages 6 and 16 that I didn't jump out of bed in the morning and check the backyard for a pony. Backyard empty, I'd check the garage, just in case... For several years my birthday gift was a Breyer horse. I treasured them, and still have them, but it just wasn't the same. I longed for a horse with an unwavering passion. I pleaded my case, "but Becky and Barb had a horse!" Yes, they did. The mighty steed, Trigger, shown here with Barbara in the saddle. Sold when we moved from rural Pennsylvania to suburban Illinois, I remembered Trigger as the most majestic horse to grace the earth. I was too small to ride him before he was sold, but he was magnificent; tall and strong, handsome and brave. Roy Rogers would have been envious, probably would have wanted to trade his pitiful palomino for our princely paint. I lost my first tooth to Trigger. Well, almost. Actually, my sister Barbara was instructed by our mother to take a sack of fresh corn out to the barn yard to shuck. And she had to take me with her. Begrudgingly, she trudged out to the fence surrounding our state-of-the-art barn (think henhouse with a lean-to addition), me running behind to catch up. She gave me brief instructions: pull off the shuck, throw it over the fence, put the naked ear of corn in the basket. Trying to prove my usefulness, I pulled off the husk and held it up for her to see. She nodded, unimpressed. Then I tossed the ear of corn. Over the fence. I looked to my sister, she looked angry. After telling me what I already knew- that she didn't want to bring me and she knew I couldn't do it, etc., she told me to go through the rails and retrieve the ear of corn. O. K., I could do that. I slipped through the two lower fenceboards easily, grabbed the corn, and turned back. About that time, Trigger heard the commotion and the "food!?" lightbulb went on in his head. He trotted for the fence, leaving the two hens, Calico and Pinafore, who had been napping on his back, flapping in mid air. Panicked that the mighty stallion (overweight gelding) might trample me, I dove between the fence boards, whacking my head in the process. "Your mouth is bleeding," my sister said calmly. Immediately I began to cry. Howling, I was dragged back up to the house. After a brief inspection, my mother diagnosed the problem, "You lost a tooth! You can put it under your pillow tonight and the Tooth Fairy will come and leave you money!" "Where's the tooth?" she asked my sister. Door slamming behind us, my sister dragged me by the hand back down to the barn, where Trigger had his head through the fence rails, happily munching corn husks, the ones with the corn still inside.

"Now look what you did, this is all your fault and I'm the one that's going to get in trouble," my sister grumbled. "But look, there's my tooth!" I said happily, pointing to the corn husk covered ground between the pony's front hooves. "Well go get it," she commanded. I shook my head, no. "It's just a pony!", she said angrily. I shook my head, no. Really fuming now, Barbara ducked under the rail and retrieved the tiny tooth. Pushing the tooth into my hand, she instucted me to go back to the house. I skipped all the way; I'd lost my first tooth, and I didn't have to shuck any more corn.