Remembering Merry-Go-Rounds

Their nostrils flared and they bared their teeth and pinned their ears. They reared and readied to trample their enemies under their sharp, black hooves. They were warhorses. Don't let the gilded trim on their bridles and saddles, nor the flowers entwined in their manes and tails fool you-they were warhorses. Some of the children knew that right away and clung to their daddy's neck, deciding the idea of riding one of those fearsome creatures was a bad idea. Yes, at first the bright lights and the cheery music of the carousel lulled them near, but up close they felt their stomach's squeeze tight with fear.

The wooden horses were carved in the style of old world artists. Leonardo Da Vinic painted horses in much the same poses, man-eating horses that went into battle with the aggression of lions. Or Fuseli, who painted the ghostly horse in The Nightmare may have inspired the creation of some figures, those with mouths gaped open, tongues lolling, and teeth reflecting the moonlight. Not all carousel horses are scary. Some stretch out their long limbs in the fashion of steeple chasers or were frozen in the quick trots of friendly ponies. They were for the faint of heart. Those were the ones I always chose.

To romantic-minded children all that is visible is the horse, the symbol of freedom. The horse, that lends its speed and stamina to we two-legged mortals. The horse, the beautiful horse, that keeps secrets safely tucked into its noble heart, the horse that will gallop across fields and over mountains, that will swim mighty rivers while carrying us on their backs and in reach of the brass ring so we can go again.

Perhaps the carousel meant to lull us with its organ music and flashing lights, because otherwise we would not have ventured to that magical place inside our hearts. Not without the protection of those fierce warhorses to do battle for us. Hooves flashing and pawing the air, clearing the way for us to go forward, whinnying a warning to those who would hold us back, and charging forward with us sitting up straight and proud and brave into a future without our daddies and mommies. We see them, the daddies and mommies, as we gallop around and pass them standing there, helpless. We wave and smile so they know the noble steed that is carrying us away is taking good care of us. They needn't worry that they are out of reach to catch us if we fall. They needn't worry at all.

We wave, and our warhorses carry us closer, and closer until we reach the prize. And we clutch it fast in one hand and wave with the other hand. And we smile. We are riding with no hands and we laugh at mommy's expression. We laugh and daddy laughs back. Mommy knows; she knows we will never come back from that land of magic, where our carousel horses have carried us. Even after the music stops we ride on because now the magic lives in our hearts. We ride on.

One

My pony arches his neck and holds his head high. His mane and tail fly in the breeze like a crusader's banner. He glides around and around, and prances up and down. His ebony coat glistens in the sun. I run my hand down his sleek neck and give him a good-boy-pat. I will name him King of all the Ponies on the carousel, because he is the fastest and most handsome. His red saddle and bridle are edged with gold. I hold the leather reins with one hand and every time we gallop past my Daddy, I wave. Daddy smiles and waves back. We come every Friday night, after Daddy comes home from work. Sometimes we have to wait three turns because someone else is riding King, and he is the only horse on the carousel I want to ride. Daddy and me, we eat a hotdog while we wait.

Two

Like a helium balloon she dances in circles and leaps up and down. Her white coat catches the colored lights and glows soft pinks and blues as we go round. Her intricately carved features bring her to life with muscles tensed and dark eyes gleaming. I can feel her heart beat as we leap into the air. She whispers, "Come away with me." And we fly over the park and look down at the crowds and lights. I see Grandma wave up to me. We go higher until she is only a small dot of white sweater and silver hair. I close my eyes and feel the wind on my face, and my hair mingles with the tresses of my white mare. To soon we come back down to earth and she carries me back to Grandma who smiles and I know she has flown through the sky with a magic horse, too. I can see it in her eyes.

Three

Pow! Bang, bang! The organ music plays a rollicking tune in time with my galloping pinto. I aim and fire at the murderous bank robbers. I am Sheriff Campbell of Silver Mesa, Texas and I am riding the fastest horse in the west. He stretches his long legs out, then gathers his haunches under himself and pushes off into another stride, and another. Dust pillows behind us as we cross the purple desert, closing in on the bad guys. Soon I'll have them in jail. Then I'll ride into the sunset on my horse, Joe. We circle around, and back again. Soon the robbers' horses tire and slow down, soon me and Joe will catch them. Pow! I grazed one robber in the foot. He won't be running anywhere any time soon. Come on Joe, get closer while I swing my lariat and catch that guy! My rope drops around the robber's shoulders. Joe does a sliding stop, and jerks the robber off his pitiful slow nag. "Good boy, Joe." I reach down and pat Joe on the neck. "Good, boy."