H-E-Double Toothpicks
I remember growing up with four brothers and one sister. My parents raised us in a religious family. My brother and I (just a year apart) as we were growing up, usually tried our mother; we weren’t bad, just very trying.
Sometimes, we would be a little difficult, and Mom would get quite mad. She didn’t curse at us but would say “Darn it to H-E-double toothpicks” instead of saying “Hell.” Thinking back, it always brings a little smile to us and some regret.
— Reed Thomas
For the Love of a Horse-Loving Daughter
My non-horsey mom, Marcia Bond Johnson, married my dad, Al Wendell Johnson, two years before I was born, and as I grew up loving and riding horses, she told me that Dad took her riding when they were dating and made the horse run. I laughed at her, as I was a daredevil and an early Western Horseman subscriber. We raised Quarter Horses on a small scale, and since Dad was working, there was a horse show that he wanted Mom to take me to, an American Quarter Horse Association show somewhere near Fayetteville, Arkansas, to show my 3- and 4-year-old Poco Bueno mares.
I had a younger brother and sister, and it was about 100 degrees in the shade, plus Mom had no idea how to back up the trailer. She had to entertain the kids and pack a lunch for them, worry about getting them naps and keeping them cool, but she did it because she knew it was important to me. As I said, she was not a horse-lover. It was hard on me having to change clothes in the trailer and walk about a mile for water for the girls, but it had to be much harder for my mom.
I hope someone really reads this because my Mama really DID try.
— Deborah Hein
Top Hand Mom (And the One Time She Missed the Mark)
Everyone calls my mom Top Hand Mom — and for good reason. Rhonda “Top Hand Mom” Holmes is the kind of mom who always knows where to be, what time it starts and how to handle things before anyone else even realizes they need handling. Except for this one time.
We were in Jacksonville, Florida, at the National Team Roping League Finals, and I was entered in both the team roping and the breakaway roping — which, of course, were running at the same time. I left her outside with my breakaway horse while I went in to team rope.
Before I walked off, I told her, “Mom, let me know when the breakaway starts. I’ll be out here, but I’m going to stay here until then.”
As the roping went on, I kept checking. I’d walk out and ask, “Has it started yet?”
“Nope, nothing’s happening,” she’d say. “OK. It should be starting soon.”
I checked again.
“No, nobody’s even out here. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Time kept passing. I called her from inside the arena.
“Mom, has it started?”
“No. Nothing. I don’t see anyone.”
At that point, the clock in my head was ticking. The breakaway was supposed to have started a long time ago. Finally, I walked back out and said, “Mom, there’s no way they haven’t started it.”
That’s when we realized the problem. She was at the wrong arena. The breakaway had been going the entire time — just across the way in another arena. If she had looked over, she could’ve seen it happening!
So yes, that’s the one time Top Hand Mom missed her mark.
— Morgan Jolene Holmes
Good Memories From Western Horseman’s Real Life Ranch Wife Jolyn Young’s Kids
I remember one time when I was 7, my parents bought my brothers and me a pony named “Crow” at a rodeo. When we took Crow home, it was unsteady. My mom helped me lunge line Crow around the round pen, teaching me techniques.
Eventually, I was riding Crow around bareback while my mom lunge-lined her, and then I was independently riding by myself. We also worked on the flag with Crow, which I found very funny. Thanks to my mom, I got many fun years of enjoyment out of Crow.
— Grace, age 13
One thing my mom helped me do is she put the bareback rigging on “Teaks” the horse. She would put me on Teaks and lunge me around the round pen. This made me feel like a cowboy and like I was at a real rodeo.
She would also put a bull rope on him. One time I spurred Teaks, and he jumped almost out from under me. Then I was scared to spur him, but my mom got me to spur him gently. Sometimes, he would go too fast, and I would fall off.
— Milo, age 10
My mom used to lead me around on “Teaks” while he was in a halter. My mom helped me start ponies. It was fun! I didn’t fall. My mom rode to the river with me. When the train came by, it was loud!
— Levi, age 7
No. 1 Cheerleader
My mom was my No. 1 cheerleader through high school, college and the NFL. Playing defensive back and returning punts, she would always say, “Son, you go get that ball,” even though it was a tough job. One great story comes to mind when I was playing for the Houston Oilers.
She flew to Houston for our game with the Rams. The day before, I took her to a horse show. Upon leaving, I kicked a horseshoe on the ground. She said, “Pick it up; it will give ya good luck.”
I had a great game, returning a punt 75 yards and breaking up two passes in the end zone. Upon returning to California for the offseason, she presented me with that horseshoe that she had bronzed. Always a positive attitude. I miss her.
— Jeff Severson
You Get Kicked in the Gut, You Get Back Up.
Growing up, our dad was in the horse business, primarily in the Quarter Horse racing realm. We spent a lot of time in the barns and even more time on the road, heading to one race or another. When we try to recall our childhood weekends, racetracks are about all that come to mind. It was a whole family affair — Dad, Mom and us three girls — hauling whatever horses Daddy was running at the time. One particular weekend run completely changed the way we looked at our mother and galvanized in us a resolve we wouldn’t even realize until much later in life.
We were young — like 4, 9 and 11 years old — and we were at the Crosby Downs just outside of Houston. It was a dirt track where they ran match races, unsanctioned, just a good place to go and break your horse, teach him how to run a race, not trample the other horses, that sort of place. Dad had just run one horse and asked Mom to go load it up while he was getting the next one ready to run.
We three little girls followed Mom to the trailer, and that horse was being salty and didn’t want to load. Mom went to just kind of pop him on the hind-end, like she’d done a million times, and for some reason, that horse was not having it that day. With both back feet — an image we’ll never forget — that horse kicked Mom right square in the gut, and she flew who-knows-how-many feet backward and landed in the dirt.
Now, we girls are terrified and bawling, thinking the worst. And without a tear, whimper or even much of a pause, Mom got right back up, walked over to the trailer and loaded that horse like nothing had even happened.We learned two very important things that day: One, that our mom was tough as nails, both physically and in fortitude. And two, when you get kicked in the gut, you get back up.
— The McMullen Sisters of Double D Ranch: Cheryl, Hedy and Audrey
Birthday Party
My mother was from inner-city Chicago and was afraid of animals. But she said I “gave her no peace” until I rode a horse. For my fifth birthday, she drove to a stable, talked a nice lady into trailering to our street and provided a horse to ride. Everyone got a ride, but I got to ride first and last.
Every time I ride, I dedicate it to her.
— Molly B Johnson
I burst into tears of joy when I read this. Thank you for giving me one of the most positive affirmations of my life. You did wonderful editing, only one word and one punctuation mark, which I wish I had done… This magazine Western Horseman is everything you guys are great thank you