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   Jerry January 18, 2011

   The lot across the street from my attic bedroom window was prime country for a horse. At least in my grade school mind I created one there. Horses. Most the kids wanted a dog or a cat. I wanted a horse. We had a dog. A good dog to. But I wanted a horse.

   From the time I was big enough to climb up on a fence rail high enough to get on the back on any horse that would let me I was soon on its back. My grandfather who raised me didn't discourage my affliction and by pleading I finally got my wish. A colt. Joe Louis we called him after he darned near killed my grandfather in the stall of the garage. The whole thing didn't turn out well for the colt or me, but it was my first horse.

   I drove by that house in Iowa after being gone for almost 30 years. A house was on that lot on that tiny side street but I couldn't see the house. There was a horse standing there. Nobody else could see it but me.

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