Apparently one of the things our mothers were told back in the Adopto-Classical Period (Baby Scoop Era) was that if they only gave us up, our new parents would provide us with a swimming pool and/or….
A PONY. A real live freakin pony!!!
I’ll admit it: up through age 15 or so I would willingly have given up my heritage, all of my parents, my friends, Abraham Lincoln, Jesus, my immortal soul–anything, anything, if I could only have a horse.
What changed at age 15? I got one. And, by golly, I am not entirely unsure that little red bastard did not save my life. He taught me responsibility. He was my one true friend. It was obvious to everyone around me what a difference he had made in my attitude, my grades, everything.
A few years later, I was given the “choice” between keeping him in my life and going to college. I type “choice” with quotation marks because I don’t remember a single conversation about my future from age old-enough-to-understand-English on up that didn’t include my attending college. So I sold him. Below is one of the last photos taken of us together.
Click to enlarge the image and see how happy I was to relinquish him to more worthy owners. I “chose” my parents’ love over what I loved, just like my first mother did.
Who else actually got a pony? How did that work out?