I was maybe five or six when I went to my great grandmother’s house to be watched for the first time I can really remember. I could very well have been younger. I don’t know what mom was doing, but given the circumstances, maybe to court, maybe to a government office to sign up for housing or food. Who knows? But I was left with my great grandmother, which means grandma was either not around, or went with mom.
Great grandma welcomed me to her house, which fascinated me even at that age as a neat, tidy little bungalow or what not, and well kept for its age. Of course, by then it was only about 50 years old. Young by my standards today. Then, she asked me, “Do you want to see my horse?” I looked around trying to figure out where at that house she could possibly be keeping a horse! I was astonished at the prospect!
Then she pulled from a nail on a wall a long brass shoehorn with a horse’s head on the top of it. I was a bit disappointed but I was also amazed at how this shiny ojbect did in fact look like a little horse. That was around 1975. About 51 years later, I have finally just built a little hanger all its own for my bedroom because I now use it every day to get my shoes on safely without ruining them, and without losing my balance. I am near the age she was then.
Of course from a straight on angle the horse looks a bit more like a dog, however, from the side it is most definitely a horse!
Every day I think for a moment of my great grandmother, Amy Siedenberg, born Amy Eliza Walker, in Eden, Utah, not far from where I live today. She was a true;y rare person in my life in that every memory I have of her, except of the time she had a stroke, is a good one. The first one is of that horse.