In Third Grade, Nothing Worth Mentioning Had Been Invented Yet

Today I had to google how to get the number “6” from appearing when pushing the letter “o” key on my Zagg/mate keypad for my Ipad.

Now this got me to thinking.  If my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Buoy, would have read the above sentence to us back in 1962, I would have thought she was speaking to us in another language. (If I would have been listening, that is.)

Turns Out Mrs. Buoy Was Not Full of Hooey

I guess I thought of Mrs. Buoy (whom I loved like a grandmother) because she was definitely a person ahead of her time. I’ll never forget her saying that most of us would  be working in careers some day that hadn’t even been invented yet.  And she was right!  Unfortunately, that’s about the only thing I can remember about third grade. Aside from the fact that I loved Mrs. Buoy.

That’s because third-grade was the year I became a Horseback Riding Junky.

My Spiral into Addiction

It all began innocently enough with an overnight stay at Ann Payne’s house where I experienced my first ride on a horse named Sweetie.  One time around the pasture and I was hooked. From that moment forward, I HAD to have a horse of my own, even if I had to beg borrow or steal. (In the end I chose the latter, but more on that in a minute.)

Anyway, after that my life was reduced to a series of horse-related activities including drawing horses, dreaming of horses, staring at horses and being jealous of kids who had horses.

This is a perfect example of the horses I drew in third grade. I say perfect example because, as you can see,  I don’t draw any better now than I did in third grade.

Festering Pestering

I began my quest to get a horse by suggesting to my parents that perhaps they should buy me one.  When that fell on deaf ears, I stepped it up to logical reasoning, followed by persistent pleading; until finally I was reduced to relentless begging.

Then, a Possible Breakthrough!

One evening, I thought I had my mother convinced.  I was begging for a horse, as usual, when she finally said, “Why don’t you go to bed, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow!

TALK ABOUT IT TOMORROW!! I couldn’t believe my ears!   Suddenly, I had gone from no chance at all to a legitimate snowball’s chance in hell. I was elated, and I went to bed that night dreaming of a 35-year-old nag named, Prince, who was for sale for fifty bucks.

A Bitter Setback

Sadly, the next day, when I found out that I merely was “over hoping,”  I packed my yellow shortie pajamas into a 45-record record case and threw it out the window in a short-lived plan to runaway from home. (I forgot about it until the following summer when my Dad found it in the bushes beneath my window while he was mowing the lawn.)

A Happy — Even Though It Took Long Enough! — Ending

Nevertheless, I am happy to report that my dream of horse ownership finally did come true! I finally got my horse!  Oh sure, it took from third grade until I was 50. But better late than never I always say.

And a beautiful treasure he is too!

Until next time . . . I love you