Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Peggy Ann Doak

November 29, 2007

 Paula & I # 3

 Peggy Ann Doak

I had forgotten to add a couple of things to my story of Paula and I (1&2). And it looks like there will be a fourth. Coming your soon.

As you have already surmised, much of Paula and my friendship had a lot to do with our love for Colt 45 Ale. This little story is one that I told my son to never, ever, ever speak about in front of my mother.

First the story: It was Paula's birthday. I believe it was fall, though I haven't really much of a clue. We had gone behind the big barn, behind her house. Did I mention that Paula can throw up without a sound? I know because we both did a lot of that due to our love of brew. But I had never seen nor 'not heard' someone do that ever before or since. But that is not this story. We were behind the big barn, in the pasture, on our horses, celebrating Paula's birthday. I had a saddle on Niko for some reason. Odd, because I rode bareback most of the time. Perhaps I needed a saddle horn for the beer rack. As always, we would get sentimental. In fact, I don't ever remember me and Paula being funny other than our antics. Well, after three big Colt 45's each, drank within twenty minutes, we were tipsy. So we decided to hit the road. Both of us were mobile drunks.

Don't get me wrong. Being a drunk is not a happy way to live. In fact, it got pretty groady after a while and I finally had to face sobriety or death. But not before this tale. And in actuality, if alcohol did not work for those of us who self medicated for trauma, we would not have done it. Anywho, there we were riding down the city point road toward city point where I lived and we saw a friend Harold, who had a big horse who he rode with us at times. But Harold was on crutches. Now right about this time, due to an empty stomach before the ales, the world was beginning to tilt on me. I do remember saying, "Awe look, Harold is on crutches, lets go find out why." Which meant for Paula and I, let’s go a galloping and try not to run him over.

We were off; out of the imaginary starting gate. I don't remember much of what followed, except the world really started to tilt, first left, and somehow I grabbed the front of the saddle to pull myself up right and literally launched myself off of the right side. I think my foot caught up in the stirrup for a bit because I was told I was dragged a bit. And by the looks of my back, I'd say that was accurate. Once the world stopped twirling, I lay on my back staring at the sky, kind of in shock. I do remember thinking that I should never have put that saddle on, because I always fell off with the saddle. Suddenly, hovering over my face, in line of vision was my mother. That jumped me. At first she looked all concerned, then with one look and smell she declared, "You're drunk!"

I declared back as any kid who wanted a life sentence of being grounded, "No Sh..T!" Mom grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. She told Paula to take that D...mned horse of mine home, and folded me up in my stepfather's car. It seems that the both of them had been riding behind us and saw the whole episode. When we got home, I had to stand there while mom picked tar out of my back. If I yelped, she would remind me that I did it to myself. Mean while Paula, God bless her little pea pickin' heart, did bring Niko home and took care of her before she headed back home. Didn't say a word. No one even knew she'd been there except the horse was home.

Later that night, in one of my mother's rare moods of loving behaviour, came up to my room where I lay hurting from tar burns and woozy from everything. She told me that if I would sell that crazy horse of mine she would buy me any horse I wanted. Of course the answer any true blooded adolescent would respond as I did. "No."

Thus being told to never ever bring that story up in front of my mother, my son Gerod would inevitably ask me to tell him the story of me on my horse drunk and how I fell off right in front of grammy. "Is that how it went Grandma?" I would want to reach out and grab him by his shirt collar, though of course he chose to sit across from me not next to me. My mother would proceed to sigh, moan, sigh, and nearly break out in song, "Nobody's seen the trouble I've seen." While I said through facial expressions, 'Gerod, my son, there will be pay back.'

Peggy Ann Doak

Pdoak333@peoplepc.com