To Ride A Horse in a Parade.

To ride a horse in a parade is like nothing you ever imagined. My days at Poki Roni Horse Farm with Travis and Mrs. Kirchner, Barbara, Maureen, and all the others were what dreams are made of. We think about the good times when everything was innocent and those were that for me.

Dusty was born in 1985. People would ask me what kind of horse he was and I'd tell them that he was 1/2 Mexican and 1/2 American just like me. His mother, Mid-Night, was sent to me in 1982 from my uncle's ranch in Jimenez, Chihuahua. His father Pagen was a cross bred Thoroughbred horse from the U.S. When my uncle sent Mid-Night to El Paso he said that the rancheros were happy for the mare because she was going to live in the U.S. with papers.

Mrs. Kirchner would help me with Dusty. She taught me to be patient with him. She taught me not to get excited around him because that would upset him. The one time I rode him when it was windy she got upset with me because I had fallen off. She told me it was my fault and that I shouldn't have ridden him on a windy day when there was a chance for him to get scarred of things. She told me he would learn that he would be able to throw me off if he wanted to.

On July 4th, 1987 there was a parade on the East Side of El Paso. The plan was for everyone to wear blue jeans, white shirts, and a red bandanna with a cowboy hat. I guess I didn't get the word so I decided to show up with a black cape, a three cornered hat, some wire glasses, English riding boots, and a flag. My horse was barely two years old. After getting the horses to Hanks High School, and mounting up with all the costumes, balloons, and excitement, there I was, on Dusty, looking like Paula Revere, with a flag to boot. Nobody else had brought a flag so I was nominated to lead the pack--right behind some pickup truck filled with kids, balloons, streamers, and confetti.

I'll never forget Mrs. Kirchner's words. "Everybody who sees you today is going to wish they were you." Those words didn't sink in at the time. I was scarred the horse would throw me; I was hot, and ready to vomit, asking myself, why was I there. The horse was too young to be in a parade and how the heck was I going to carry that flag without my hat falling off. There was nobody there to help me, my friends were riding behind me trying to keep their horses calm. My parents said that maybe they'd go watch later. My boyfriend was jealous of the horses and wanted nothing to do with them. I'm sure Mrs. Kirchner gave me some encouragement. In fact, I do remember people telling me how authentic I looked up there on that horse.

Well, the parade started. Dusty moved forward. Every time that truck in front of us stopped, I prayed to God that Dusty would move forward again. He did. All through that parade that little two year old horse did exactly what he was supposed to do. I'll never forget that ride. It was during that ride that Mrs. Kirchner's words hit me. Every gentleman that we passed in the crowd who was wearing a hat took it off when Dusty, the Flag, and I rode past. It was those people and their respect for the flag, the horse, and the freedom of our country that our forefathers had struggled for, that I will never forget.

Mrs. Kirchner passed away last fall, Dusty about two years ago, and Mid-Night in 1999. But my memories and dreams and the people who were in my life make me who I am. And that is what I hope to pass on to my kids. So may the spirit of Mrs. Kirchner and those horses live on. And of those people who respected the flag that day in 1987.

Life is truly a gift, to God I am thankful.

California Windmills at Sundown

Just about a month ago, my three kids and I, driving to Disneyland. Only a Walmart road atlas for directions. Driving all day from El Paso. Low on diesel, and low on water bottles; we needed tylenol and batteries. We needed the corner Walgrees. Feeling like we had to stop soon or else we would be there. Los Angeles. It seemed like once we got off of I-10 we'd be lost. There was no way we'd find tylenol and batteries in Los Angeles. For sure we'd get lost in that huge town of cement and trees if we had to get off the main road. It was getting dark and it seemed like we were heading towards a big drop off where the earth would end. The end of I-10 we'd call it.

We had to stop soon. The sun was going down and we were running out of I-10, but the windmills were so cool. Hundreds, thousands maybe. Everywhere. The sky was beautiful. Orange and purple and yellow. Any exit would do, and we were getting closer and closer. The kids navigating from the Walmart map, estimating the time, I had to choose an exit or we'd be there without gas, tylenol or water for three days.

So there we are at a gas station somewhere between a bunch of mountains. The wind was so strong. If you didn't park your truck the right way, the wind would slam your door shut and take off your arm if you weren't careful. I screamed at the kids to stay put. I drove from the gas pump to the door of the store because I was afraid. The wind was so strong. Finally inside, I asked the clerk, What's with the wind? It's always windy he said. Then in walked someone he knew. How could two people know each other out in the middle of all of this I thought. How could anything be normal here. I got the gas, the batteries, and the tylenol. Los Angeles now seemed safe. Anywhere seemed safe, anywhere away from that wind. I better not ever complain about the wind in El Paso again.I can't wait to hear the song Mr. Russell!!Charlene