As the daughter of a ranch foreman, I was given a horse by the owner of the ranch when I was about nine.
Let me re-state that. When I was about nine, my father selected a horse for me.
Tuesday night while driving to the basketball game, I had the chance to gather more details about how that horse was chosen.
Me: Daddy, how and why did you pick Regalito? (Regalito means little gift in Spanish )
My Father: Pause… Well , the other foreman had first pick for his kids.
Pause… And he picked all of the good mares.
Pause… I didn’t like the looks of the mares that were left.
Pause… So I picked a stud horse- a stallion.
Pause… The stud fees from your horse went into your savings account .
I used that money to buy my first car to take to college, when I graduated from Saint Mary’s Hall.
It was a used, red Opal Kadet.
What is the moral of this brief story?
I am not sure, other than it tickles me that while the other foreman was selecting gentle horses that were suitable for pleasure riding (and breeding of course), my father did things his way, on my behalf, and picked a stallion that I would never ride.
But ride I did, in fact, in my little red Opal Kadet, with a stick shift and a loud AM radio.