Child's Play

            It’s the season to reminisce about family… 

I’m a product of polar opposites, opposites who survived fifty years of marriage. Both taught school: one math, physics, chemistry; the other English, literature, drama.

Dad, with great bravado, would whistle walking down the street.  He’d converse with total strangers.  This would embarrass Mom because she felt communicative only with a select circle of friends.

It was an era when we were responsible for our own entertainment. Dad provided it splendidly, or at least the opportunity. He gave me and my bro bikes with gears, the first on the block. He bought an inlaid game table for checkers or chess. He bought us a piano, ice skates, a chemistry set, a crystal set radio, so on.

Dad would also take us out on the town. Bro and I saw the Royal Canadian Mounted Police perform with their Lipizzaners.  Once, after a trip to the circus, Dad purchased a Shetland pony from them they were retiring.  We called her Mable.

We lived in town and stabled our new pony on a farm at the outskirts.  One summer day we brought Mable into town to let the kids in the neighborhood ride. Each child took a turn around the block. There weren’t cars to worry about, but Mable did have a handicap. Her hooves weren't shod and the pavement on our street wasn’t smooth. 

My turn came.  It was fun… for a minute!  I’d barely gone a couple of paces when Mable stumbled and I went flying – down, not out. I landed beneath her. Mable, a circus pony, was so well trained she stayed motionless on her front knees until she saw I was up and okay. Then she got up.

The permanent scars on Mable’s knees reminded me ever after of her gentle spirit.

With all of his bluster and bravado, my Dad had a playful and gentle spirit too.