Writing Back to Elmer: Falling Off Of Ponies! (AKA getting dumped)

In the early 1900s, a young boy named Elmer won a pony named Sonny. Here is an excerpt from his letter:

I went to the depot to meet my pony the day he came. I could hear him whinnying but I could not see him. Then I went to the other side of the car and I saw him in a little crate on the express wagon ready to go to the express office. I took him out of the crate and the people laughed at me and told me he was a little sheep lamb, he was so woolly looking in his winter coat. Papa told me to give him some water but he couldn’t reach the fountain that big horses used. I told them that was all right and I told them if they were such a little pony as that they couldn’t reach the fountain either.

“Sonny” goes as fast as he can when we go after the cows nights. We are such good little friends and he never runs away or kicks me. He is always around the house or barn. “Sonny” is always around when meal time comes. Sometimes when I am riding him he turns around short and I fall off and “Sonny ” stands and looks at me and laughs because it is a good joke.

If I could write back to Elmer, here is what I’d say:

Dear Elmer,

I remember one day, a 4-H workout was scheduled at my house. A 4-H workout was where all of the kids in a 4-H club would get together to practice with their ponies and horses. Different families took turns hosting the workouts at their houses.

My younger cousin, Kasey, was too nervous to ride her pony over to my house alone. So, I had to ride my pony Buttercup to Kasey’s house to pick her up and then the two of us, on our ponies, would ride back to my house together. Her pony’s name was Totem.

After picking Kasey up and heading back to my house through the irrigation rows, I was entirely annoyed that I had to be away from the exciting workout preparation at my house to escort Kasey. Younger cousins could be such a bother.

I was hot, irritated with my “cousin responsibilities,” frustrated with the circling deer flies, and anxious to get back home.

This particular summer, it happened to be soybeans in the cornfield – a rare occurrence. The cornfield  – the freeway of my youth – was usually tall field corn. Kasey and Totem were following me, and I didn’t even give them the courtesy of looking back at them or engaging in conversation with them. I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible to see if the older kids had arrived at my house yet.

Buttercup and I were a team, getting home as quickly as possible. Kasey and Totem were bringing up the rear. We were making good time. We were almost to my house when I heard what sounded like a sack of potatoes falling onto the ground.

I turned around to see Totem, riderless, running back home down the irrigation row. Head high, tail flying in the wind. Kasey was nowhere to be seen; she had landed beneath the soybeans and was hidden by their leafy greens.

“Kasey?!” I called, worried that I would get in trouble for Kasey getting hurt.

Kasey sat up through the soybeans, like a groundhog popping out of its hole. I could just barely see her from the neck up. She never said a word. She just started to quietly cry. (To this day, I give Kasey credit for never screaming, hollering, or yelling. She just quietly accepted her defeat at the hands of her pony.)

I dismounted Buttercup. I walked over to help Kasey to her feet. Kasey, Buttercup, and I walked the rest of the way to my house, as it was much closer to adult help than turning around trying to find Totem.

Totem was long gone anyway; we assumed she was back at her own house. I still have a vision of her – black and white body – black mane and tail flying in the wind through the soybeans heading straight back from where we came from at a dead run. Totem never looked back.

While at the beginning of the trip through the cornfield, I was annoyed that I had to bring Kasey and Totem to my house, I now felt sorry for Kasey that her pony unceremoniously dumped her in the middle of a soybean patch and took off for home. Buttercup had dumped me a few times before, too, but Buttercup never left me. Just like Sonny did not leave you.

Warmly,

Regina

p.s. Sonny made you popular. Buttercup gave me street cred, too!