There was a sepia tone photograph of me that sat on the corner of my mom’s mantle for as long as I can remember. It was taken in the spring of 1956 when our family lived in Hammond, Indiana.
The bottom had fallen out of the job market here in Alabama in the mid-50’s and many moved north to find jobs in factories. My family was one of those.
Much of my childhood from that time is fuzzy but I remember the day my pony picture was taken. The weather was unseasonably warm and I was playing in the side yard.
I heard a strange sound and when I walked to the edge of the yard and peered down the sidewalk, I saw a man clomping down the street with a pony. Not a sight you saw daily in the city.
It was all I could do to keep from bolting down the street to greet them, but mom took a dim view of me leaving the yard with supervision.
When they finally arrived at our house, that pony was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. It was as brown as a Hershey bar with a golden mane flowing down the back of its neck. His eyes seemed sad, but when I ventured over to pet him, he cheered up.
There was an earthy smell, a mix of pony hair and old polished leather. There were silver fastenings on the saddle that sparkled in the sunlight.
The old man carried a camera attached to a tripod. He placed the camera on the ground, pulled out a handkerchief from his hip pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. He asked if I would like my picture taken on the pony. I was about to climb on when he said; I would need to ask my momma.
I hustled in the house and dragged my mom outside. I was jabbering so fast, I’m sure she had no idea what I was talking about. Mom was not an animal lover.
The man stepped over and explained that he was taking pictures and for a few dollars he would take mine. Money was tight I’m sure, but mom somehow knew how important it was to me.
The old man reached in a bag, pulled out a cowboy hat and leather leggings, put them on me and then helped me up on the saddle.
I thought I was Roy Rodgers on that pony. The old man loaded the camera with film and clicked the photo.
A few weeks later, he came back with the photo. I am not sure exactly how much the photo cost, but I know he didn’t charge my mom what it was worth to me.
