Oh, Mom. The paper clips you used to hold your school stories and essays together are now rusty and leave a jagged stain on the notebook paper. But they still hold strong. Even so, I’ve replaced them with shiny new paper clips. For the next 70 years.

A story titled “Hoss Feathers” caught my eye. Mom wrote it while a high-school student at St. Mary’s Academy in New Haven, Connecticut. I’m pretty sure the uncle character she quotes is based on her mom’s brother Pip Regan, with her grandfather and other uncles mixed in for the optimal amount of blarney.

‘Hoss Feathers’

My uncle owned the smartest horse in ten counties. His superior intellect rendered him stubborn, therefore difficult to ride. He could tell by your shadow when you were mounted whether or not you sported a whip. This, however, did not determine his behavior. You could never reason if he would submit or buck like a devil-horse. How he loved to fool people. Which only goes to prove his intelligence.

My uncle said that Brain Child once belonged to a colonel in the Civil War. I inquired how a nag could live that long.

“Brain Child’s different,” he replied “If he took a notion into his head not to die there ain’t nobody that could alter his opinion.” I must ask that animal what happened at Gettysburg. If he doesn’t respond correctly, I’ll know something’s fishy.

Brain Child’s so fussy he neighs when he wants his stall cleaned or more fodder. I suppose he’d saddle himself if he had hands. Since he hasn’t, he can only pound on the stable when he’s feeling frisky.

He’s pretty considerate when the babies are astraddle, even croons like an equine Bing Crosby. Mighty pert horse, that Brain Child. He’s smarter than a lot of people I know.

~ Joan Cassidy, circa. 1946

Mom grew up with horses.

Her grandpa, Joseph “Pop” Regan, lived just a street away. In fact, their backyards connected and she could visit his horses, plus the ones he stabled in their barn, whenever she liked.

Pop loved horses and sulky racing, according to my grandma. She told us he owned a mare named Betty Martin, who was a half-sister to the famous racehorse Dan Patch. (Truth be told, I’m only familiar with Dan Patch because he’s mentioned in the lyrics of “Ya Got Trouble” from The Music Man.)

There are too many horse puns to choose from, so I’ll just pick one and end this by saying how grateful I am that Mom enjoyed such a loving and stable childhood.

“Hoss Feathers” © 1946  Joan Cassidy (Vayo). All rights reserved.

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