Acknowledgments
S o many people helped me turn my book dreams into a reality. Thank you, from my heart, to all.
Thank you to my English teachers from Wheat Ridge High School, and Buck Hart from the Orme School. Also thanks to the English departments at University of Colorado and Bard College.
Newspaper editors Mikkel Kelly, Glenn Wallace, Mark Ohrenschall, Gil Spencer, and Vincent Carroll have been instrumental professional support.
Jana Clark, Judy Armstrong, Ruth Segal, Maida Blythe, Diane Talon, and Susan Fisher, members of my critique group, provided encouragement along with their helpful comments. Janet Garvey, Colette Smith, Claudia McIntosh, Mary Ozanic, and Kate Barham kindly provided early readings of my manuscript.
Editor Allison St. Claire helped me kick-start this project. After I rode it alone for a while, Jody Rein galloped alongside me and herded the book into the corral.
Father Chris Renner, Rev. Frank Gold, and The Alano Club provided spiritual support just when I needed it most. Shirley Riggs, Sally Faust, Dennis OShea, Robbie Knight, and the Robert Benchley Society provided additional inspiration.
My unending gratitude goes to my wonderful family. It is impossible to express enough appreciation to my husband, Dick, my anchor and mainstay who kept my computer running and supported me in immeasurable ways. Also much gratitude to my daughter, Lily, her husband, Wagner, and my son, Jim, all of whom readily provided their love and support throughout this project. And appreciations go to Lilys father-in-law Wagner Sr. and mother-in-law, Shirley, for their kindness and generosity.
Last but not least, a heart full of gratitude goes to my adventurous and loving Mom and Dad. They brought me up with horses and encouraged me as a writer. I still miss them both dearly.
You Fall Off, You Get Back On: A Patchwork Memoir
by Mary Stobie
Copyright 2014 by Mary Stobie
This is a work of nonfiction. Some of the names and identifying details of some characters have been changed to protect individuals privacy.
All rights reserved, including the right to reprint this work in whole or in part, in any form. Thank you for respecting the authors rights in this regard.
Published in the United States by Liberator Press, Denver, Colorado
All columns attributed to the Colorado Community Media newspapers originally appeared in one or more of the following publications: The Golden Transcript, The Wheat Ridge Transcript, Lakewood Sentinel and Arvada Press. These columns are reprinted courtesy of Colorado Community Media.
Permission granted by the Chicago Tribune to reprint the columns Always the Hero and Becoming a Soccer Mom. Sentimental and Afghanistan Hits Home are reprinted courtesy of The Denver Post. Permission granted by Canyon Courier to reprint Beatletoast, Family Is Where the Love Is, Dare to Be Disorganized, On Entering the Mysterious World of Science, Tales from Lake McConaughy, Day on the Prairie, Defining Roles for Women, Its Christmas Time, Why Shouldnt Older Women have Babies? The Wild West is Still Alive in Yellowstone, and Climbing Fools.
Some of the columns have been edited for this book.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Mary Stobie at .
Cover and interior design by Nick Zelinger, NZ Graphics.com.
Front cover photo of Mary McFerren Stobie, age four, by Betty McFerren, 1951
Back cover author photo by Lily Ribeiro, 2014
E-book created by Helena Mariposa, www.EbookTransformation.com
For Noah and Bianca
What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator
Authors Note
Ive structured this book to follow the flow of my life. Much of this work comprises reprinted columns, several of which encompass three decades, such as those about my mom and dad. When in doubt, Ive placed those pieces where they just feel right.
Because many of these essays appeared originally as newspaper columns, and others I wrote recently about my early life, youll see stylistic variety. I hope this hodgepodge of paper scraps and old photos bonds together into one lifes colorful fabric my patchwork memoir.
Mary Stobie
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Beware of Bad Horses
They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs to meet a good man. The same is true with horses: You may have to ride many dangerous ones before you find a safe steed.
A fter we moved to Golden, Colorado, so my father could start a food brokerage business and my mother could have a horse corral on our property, the first pony my parents bought was a fat little rascal, Poncho. He threw me and dragged me back to the barn with my boot caught in the stirrup. A good horse would stand still if his rider was hung up, until the rider could right herself, but not Poncho. He dragged me like I was a sack of potatoes, banging my head along the ground. I lost a hunk of hair snagged in a Canadian thistle bush. After freeing my foot and boot back at the stable, I thanked God I was still alive. My parents sold Poncho gone, gone, gone.
One day I rode a tall new mare, Creole, to the top of the mesa on South Table Mountain behind our house. The trails were full of spiny yuccas and loose rocks. On the way home the bratty horse raced down the hill toward the barn with the bit clenched in her teeth so I couldnt stop her no matter how hard I pulled. My face flushed as terror shot through me. Whoa, stop, you crazy horse!
She tossed me off. Crash-boom.
Darn horse! I yelled. I hope my parents sell you to the rodeo to be a bronco. When I get older Ill ride you to win a buckle for staying on!
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In spite of bad experiences with Poncho and Creole, I didnt give up. I fell off, I got on again. With my own money I saved, I bought Smoky, a small black horse. He was a gem with a sweet disposition. I made friends with neighborhood girls and boys who all rode horses: Claudia Brundage, Judy Haberl, Pam Pearson, Manet Oshier, Tia Tyler. Doug Buzard and Bobby Brendan, who had horses, also joined us on rides. We rode around the gravel roads in the Applewood Mesa area of Golden, and raced our horses on the dirt airstrip on Bobbys parents place. Gone now, of course, long replaced with suburban homes.
One day a cowboy parked in front of my familys corral with a horse trailer. My mother and I went out to see what was up. The man unloaded a lovely buckskin mare and said, Shes for sale, only $100. My mothers eyes lit up.
She couldnt resist a bargain and luck was with us Twinkle was a real find. She was high spirited, had a great willingness, and always tried to please us. Twinkle was worth the wait. I entered horse shows and rodeos with Twinkle. We did well, winning trophies and ribbons in barrel racing, pole bending, and goat tying. Giving it her best in every event, Twinkle became the most loved horse my family ever owned.
Golden, Colorado, l956
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Learning to Ride
W hen I was three, my cowgirl mother taught me how to ride a horse. She began our lessons by helping me clamber up on the bare back of our bay mare, Queenie. Queenies soft, round body welcomed me. Grasping the coarse hair of her black mane, I laid my cheek down against her brown furry neck. Everything felt so familiar, perhaps because while pregnant with me, my mother went riding. Even before I was born I felt the rhythm of a galloping horse.