My Grandfather...

I have not yet written about my maternal Grandfather, for it is very hard because I was very close to him.  He was the ONE rock I had in a very unloved, and at times very violent childhood due to the alcoholism and severe instability of both parents.  My Grandfather was my rock.

Throughout my life those I have loved most have been ripped away by death.  Thankfully though I never let the fear of losing someone keep me from loving or being loved along the way.  Yet Aiden's sudden death, Jackie's, and my Grandfather's, have been three of the hardest for me.😭

My Grandfather was born in 1906.  Both he and his older brother rode ponies to school and the love of horses never left him.  This in itself was a reason why we were so close.💕

As a young adult he was a teacher.  Then after he married and the first of four kids began coming, he did other work to make ends meet.  Eventually, he had what became a very successful insurance agency.  It was the only one in town and since he sold life insurance too, he called the agency, Your Last Chance.  I loved his sense of humor.  For this reason alone, Your Last Chance Insurance Agency became a huge success.😂

If I wasn't at Lake Michigan when visiting him, I was at the office with him playing card games and talking. After closing time Grandpa would take me everywhere with him, even to the bowling alley where he played on 

a league.  

When I was finally blessed at age thirteen with my first pony, Sadie, Grandpa came.  He was so excited for me he drove eight hours just to see Sadie and me.  As the months passed Grandpa became very concerned because I got up at 5A.M. every morning regardless of the weather or if I was sick to care for Sadie and babysat to support her.

"My precious Adelaide, I'm really worried about the 

ways you're knocking yourself out to take care of and support Sadie like you are!"

"But Grandpa, I LOVE taking care of Sadie because she means everything to me, and I can ride her everywhere!  I have to buy her stuff!  I'm so afraid if I don't Sadie could get taken away from me and she's all I've got!  Well, I mean, besides you of course!"🙂

"I know.  It's just very hard for me to see what you're living with.  It's just not right!  And I understand why you feel scared Sadie could be ripped from you.  Damn!  I wish there were more I could do!"

"You do lots, Grandpa!  And you give me money all the time to help with the feed and hay I buy, and..."

"Adelaide, I tell you what, I give you my promise nothing and I mean NOTHING is ever going to happen to Sadie.  She will never go anywhere on MY watch, okay?"

"Really?"

"I promise!"

In a previous blog I shared the very bittersweet way Sadie came into my life.  Often when drunk my father would become very violent.  Then feel horribly guilty the next day when seeing my swollen battered little body.  After yet another round of this the results were terrible the next day.  He was horrified.  So horrified he finally took me to the man who raised Shetland ponies down the road, and that's how the profound gift of my dreams finally came into my life.  Not exactly the way to have one's life long dream come true, but there it was.

Grandpa either visited or took me home with him often because he knew what was happening and it broke his heart.  He was also terrified of the violence I lived with.  His last year he began seeking custody of me.

One time in tears I asked him why my parents didn't want me, and how could his daughter, my mother, not 

love me the way mothers are supposed to love their kids.  I told him I knew it was because I was a dwarf.  He burst in tears.  He held me and with tears pouring down his face told me how it broke his heart knowing what he knew I was living with.

Grandpa drove down for another visit soon after this conversation took place.  A few days after he returned home, when his neighbor's lawn mower quit on a hot July day Grandpa mowed his big yard and was nearly done with the neighbor's when he had a massive heart attack.  He was gone before he hit the ground.  As I write these words, as well as the words I have written about Aiden here, tears are pouring down my face.  I was only thirteen and the one rock of my young life, my Grandfather, was gone.😭

I either refer to my many journals or keep a list of blog topics to write about here.  Since the very beginning of this blog my Grandfather was at the top of the list with Aiden.  It has taken me all this time before I could finally put into words to share here the touching story of my dear, beloved Grandpa.💫🐎🌺🐎💫

A chance encounter...

We never know when a unexpected chance encounter will unfold into an enduring friendship.  A cherished friendship.  And anyone reading this blog knows of all the many treasured friendships I have had since I was very young.  Often when needed the most.

The year 2003 became a very tough year, for in quick succession there was a major ice storm of historic proportions causing many of us to be without power for weeks, then the love of my life, Aiden died in a tragic drowning accident which devastated me beyond belief, followed by my dear Dr. Kopits, renown Orthopaedic Surgeon for Little People and a friend who lost his battle with a brain tumor.  Fred Rogers, also a friend passed away soon after discovering he had stomach cancer.  A painful problem with my left foot turned out to be a malignant tumor involving three surgeries and treatment.  Then in the midst of all that my eight year old cat Brice had to be put to sleep.  Thankfully though, Patches and Sierra remained.  Still, I was reeling and very painfully limping too.   

Prior to that year I had been asked to write an inspiring piece for the 15th Anniversary of The Ride Patches and I had made which touched and inspired thousands of people, even fifteen years after The Ride.  It meant so much for me to learn what a impact the story of Patches and I were still having on others.  

One of those lives was SO inspired after reading my 15th Anniversary piece online that a friend of hers who knew me had shared with her, she felt she just HAD to get in touch with me.  And she did.  She told me she had never reached out to anyone in such a way before.  Especially a stranger.

Shelby and her husband Bode had recently retired after very successful art careers each had as both sculptors and painters lasting for decades.  That I too, being a artist was amazing to them.  They spent their entire lives on Bainbridge Island in Puget Sound, a long distance from Maryland and then later the Bluegrass of Kentucky.  Yet when a friendship is meant to be miles do not matter.

We first began sharing EMails.  Then phone calls.  Soon they began flying me out for 4-6 week visits each year.  After Skype came along we began doing that.  Though many years older than me, Shelby and I discovered we had one of those friendships where it felt as if we had known one another for years.  They introduced me to their friends and we all created art, went to the beaches, laughed a lot, shared a lot.

Shelby's presence in my life helped me begin to process my losses.  A few years later, I helped do the same for her when Bode suddenly died after sixty-three years of marriage.  She is ninety now, and to this day we still talk often and are there for each other.

We just never know how a friend will enter our life and become a bright shining treasure.  

And friends still are entering my life and becoming a bright shining treasure I hold dearly...🐎😃🐎💫

Funniest event in church history...

Though my family did not go to church, from early childhood on I believed in God and treasure a loving God as I believe Him to be.

At age nineteen I began going to a dear church in the country and was baptized.  It really was a very profound experience...but...BUT...sometimes the most hilarious unexpected things can happen to me.  Remember THIS fact:  I am very buoyant in water.

I had become close friends with the pastor, his wife, and kids, for we adults were the same age and in school with many expenses.  Often on Sunday nights I would join them for fried egg and ketchup sandwiches while we shared hopes, tears, laughter, and dreams.

Several others were being baptized the same day I was with a packed church.  Now this was a full immersion baptism so the water was 3' deep, right up to my neck.  BUT I  LOVE WATER.  Oceans, swimming pools, lakes, creeks, I am in!😃

The church had just gotten these brand new white baptism robes, with mine being a full 7" longer than me.  And did I happen to say yet I am very buoyant in water?😂

I was last.  I gathered as much of the excess robe in 

my hand as I possibly could and stepped in, before the packed church watching, including my dear friend Jackie who could laugh loud.  Really loud.

When I reached bottom the water immediately caused me to pop up like a cork, as a HUGE expanse of white material suddenly rose to the top.😳

By this time I was floating and trying to look in control at the same time.  Ron could immediately see we were rapidly losing control, both in the water and trying not to laugh.  Nevertheless, we had to continue.  He managed to guide me over to him and asked the right questions 

I responded to, and then, AND THEN came that Big Moment to dip my head beneath the water by laying 

me backwards.  SO not good.  NOT good.  Remember, 

I am very buoyant now with a HUGE expanse of white robe.😱

Ron laid me back and before he could react my legs went flying out of the water straight up in the air.  By 

the way, I should say I thankfully did have on a bathing suit.😂

He first had to raise my head back up, then quickly managed to force my legs back down but white material was floating everywhere and I had to grab onto Ron because I was clearly floating out of control.😂

So much for trying to BE in control.  We lost it.🤣

Just as Ron and I thought we were getting some semblance of control and dignity, we could first hear Jackie trying to stifle her unique loud laugh, followed by others who were losing it.  Then WE began losing it.  And this was a baptism!  Heaven surely had to be falling over laughing up there!😂

As Ron kept me from popping out of the water he carefully pushed me to the other side to get out.  BUT 

it didn't end there though, you see.  Remember the expanse of robe?  As I was about to climb out part of the brand new robe got caught on a nail and I became stuck.  We're talking VERY stuck here folks!  In the water!🤣

So as poor Ron was trying to seriously speak to the congregation, out of the corner of his eye he could see I was stuck.  Good and stuck.  Not only that, he noticed I was totally shaking in laughter so hard I was making big waves roll across the baptistry.😂

Jackie said they could tell something else crazy had happened because suddenly they began to see all these waves rolling across the baptistry.🤪

Bless his heart though, somehow Ron was able to quickly wrap up what he was saying.  Only he couldn't exit my way because I was still in the water wrapped in white robe that had become like a strait jacket stuck on a nail.  He had to go the other way then hurry around the long back hallway to help me get out, but it was very difficult you see.  We were both in hysterics.  We totally lost it!😂  And he still had to deliver a sermon!😱🤣

Somehow we finally managed to get the new robe off the nail without shredding it...MUCH...then got me out so he could be on his way.  With all that HUGE expanse of heavy wet robe I somehow made it to the change area.  

I realized it would be very wise to wait until AFTER 

the service before joining Jackie and the congregation.  With good reason, you see.  EVERYONE later said they would have lost all control, bursting into laughter as soon as I entered, including Ron trying to deliver the sermon.🤣

That had to be the funniest baptism in the history of mankind.  Jackie said it could ONLY happen to me.

Ohhh, YES!😂

Decades later I heard they were STILL laughing about Adelaide's baptism that Sunday, 1975 A.D.🤣🐎💫

The very famous Goldfish Caper...

Sometimes when one is hospitalized for a long period one can make a friend for a lifetime.  When my blood counts were plunging out of control my doctors wanted to try a new drug that went into the bone marrow.  So I was admitted to a pediatric cancer ward in my twenties.  

However, there was another young man my age named Michael who was battling leukemia, like most on the ward much younger than us.  We immediately bonded and became the "pied pipers" of the ward.  

Years prior to this I had read the beautiful book written by Doris Lund, detailing her amazing son's leukemia battle.  Eric was diagnosed at 17, fought hard, yet died age 22, in 1972.  

One of the things Eric did once while hospitalized for a long while was to put a live goldfish in what looked to be a glass I.V. bottle, then attach a line which appeared to go in his arm.  When his team of doctors came in they saw him uncharacteristically hunkered down in bed.  They asked what was wrong.  Eric replied, "I'm feeling very scaly."  That's when the doctors then noticed the goldfish and loved it.  

So this brings it back to Michael and I...  

When we both weren't desperately ill from the treatments we were getting, we found ways to keep ourselves going and the whole ward going with courage and laughter.  Since the ward was kept in very sterile conditions we were isolated, so moments of laughter in the midst of hell could go a long way.  

One day I told Michael about Eric, and that was all it took.  We had to try to do what we then called The Goldfish Caper.

Our first priority was to make absolutely sure no goldfish would be harmed in any way.  Since we were confined to the ward we had to enlist our friends "on the outside" to help.  And it all had to be done secretly.

First, I had a friend get a large glass bowl for the fish, besides a decanter which resembled a glass I.V. bottle.  I painted numbers on so it would appear real.  Michael was able to get his hands on some I.V. tubing.

Then Michael had a friend get two goldfish and food.  We were ready.  

The next morning we got Michael situated when the doctors came to make their rounds on the ward.  I expressed concern to them that Michael wasn't doing well at all.  They entered his room.  Saw him "miserably" hunkered down in his bed.  Concerned, they asked what was wrong.

"Doctors, I feel very scaly inside," said Michael.

That's when they suddenly caught sight of the goldfish in the I.V. bottle.  I don't think I have ever seen doctors laugh so hard and then applaud us.  They loved it!  We were immediate heroes of the ward for the kids.  Soon the whole place heard what we did.

I treasure the memory of this because Michael later lost his fight.  We had talked about death and dying late nights when the ward was quiet.  For at night was the time to stare deeply at our hopes and fears and talk.

This has been another one of those "deeper the sorrow, the more joy" moments of many on my journey, for had I not been so ill with plummeting blood counts, I never would have known Michael.

And never had the "Goldfish Caper."

Oh, and the two goldfish?  

They blissfully lived a long time on the ward.  I later heard the nurses had named them Michael and Adelaide.🐎😃🐎💕💫

Hy-yah Hipee-i-ay Oakey Doak (doe-ack)...

My horse Bashum was a lovely paint horse and like all of mine, I loved him dearly.  And Bashum and I happened to acquire a very special friend that hated the color RED who attached himself to us...

  

One of my fellow boarders had purchased some goats and kept them in a pen near the barn.  Only one of them decided HE preferred being with Bashum instead and kept escaping from the pen to be with him.  Until finally he was with Bashum for good.

I had a feeling this would be coming...one day I received a call from John, who owned the goats.

"Adelaide, how are you doing?"

"Hanging in there!  And YOU?"

"I'm doing the same."

Then silence.

"Uh John, what's up?"

"Well...I uh...you see...uh...someone bought my goats...but since I couldn't catch the one attached to Bashum, I decided to give him to YOU.  Besides, EVERYONE is saying it would be SUCH a terrible shame to separate those two anyway..."

So this is how Adelaide became the proud owner of a very obsessed little black goat who absolutely hated the colour RED, which by the way you should remember.  I named him Oakey Doak (from a song about a horse named Oakey Doak who did not have a problem with RED).  To be honest, I had already grown very attached to the little squirt anyway.  Obviously Bashum adored him.  It was so charming to call Bashum when I would arrive at the farm, and see him galloping to me with dear little Oakey Doak coming right behind him as fast as he could.

Oakey Doak went everywhere Bashum and I rode.  Though off the farm I often limited the distances out of concern for the little one.   

Often well meaning people would stop and ask if I knew there was a goat following us.  DUH.

Now goats can sometimes be territorial and Oakey Doak was no exception.  He would go bonkers if he saw his reflection in a shiny car, which then meant attacking it with his little horns.  None of us at the farm had shiny cars you see, so I didn't know Oakey Doak had this burning desire to seriously injure his reflection until the very first time this happened (thankfully without any damage!) to someone's Mercedes which DEFINITELY was not at the farm.  From then on I kept him on a lead rope while riding off farm.  

Remember now, if I haven't made this clear yet, Oakey Doak hated the color RED.

Sometime after I acquired the little goat my friend Rory and his horse Ben went riding with us one day on these amazing trails which opened up into this vast park with a huge lake.  It was July 4th.  

Remember that...July 4th.

When Rory and I, our horses, and a very cute goat who hates RED arrived at the park where horses (and goats) were allowed, we encountered a huge group of people having a picnic.  The kids not used to seeing horses all came running over to us in this

huge wave of squealing.

LOUDLY squealing.  

This in turn terribly frightened the horses.  As usual I was riding bareback so when Bashum suddenly made a very high sideways leap of terror I very heroically managed to stay on.  

But...BUT I dropped Oakey Doak's lead rope!  And it's July 4th, when people tend to wear RED, white, and blue!

In extremely quick succession Oakey Doak saw a massive amount of RED and realized he wasn't restrained anymore.  Rory quickly sizing up the situation threw me Ben's reins, jumped off, and ran after Oakey Doak.

Thankfully Oakey Doak happened to be a very small goat which we had in our favor.  Next, all the kids, especially those who were dressed in bright RED thought the little goat was playing some kind of fun "goat tag" with them and were loving it!

Finally Rory was able to step on the lead rope as it went flying by at one point and was able to stop Oakey Doak before he could inflict serious damage to anyone's RED clothing.

As all the adults watching the action unfold before them were roaring with laughter, I realized they were blissfully oblivious as to how serious the situation as a whole was.  Because you see, their barbecue suddenly left unattended at a critical moment would have been ruined had I not very urgently directed their attention to this. 

By the time Oakey Doak's lead rope was safely 

back in my hand there was thankfully only one casualty.  A kid's RED T-shirt was missing a section out of it.  However no one minded because they said the goat and horses were SO entertaining and Rory and I so nice.  In fact they even invited us to join them for a barbecue dinner!  We politely declined as we thought it best to get Oakey Doak home before anything else happened.  Though they did insist upon taking pictures of the goat, horses and us with EVERYONE before we left!

So somewhere out there in the world may be a photo in an album of two horses, their riders, and 

a very cute little goat with a section of RED T-shirt hanging from his mouth, surrounded by a lovely bunch of people.🐎😂🐎🐐

Speaking Journey 101...

Though I have been told boldness is my middle name, and I nailed Acting 101 required in the Scene Design Program, I never imagined I would become a speaker.

ME?  NO WAY!  Not even on my radar.  

But sometimes life takes us to places where what we have learned and our ways of telling these things are discovered and the next thing we know we're at a podium standing on a chair in front of a bunch of people getting inspired by OUR journey.  And laughing too.  Then MORE want to hear us, and BAM, we've suddenly become a speaker!💥

Well, something like this anyway.😂

My dear mentor friend Nora I first blogged about in, "Adelaide Goes To Prison," where Nora who also never thought SHE would become a speaker in demand too had been asked by The Women's Prison Warden to come speak.

Since Nora didn't drive she asked him if she could bring her friend because, "Warden, she too has a powerful story to share."

Then Nora called me asking if I would drive her, which I was happy to do.

And then...AND THEN...

"Adelaide, I uh, told the Warden you also had a very powerful story to inspire the women with."

"You WHAT?!!"

"You'll be speaking too."

"But I'm NOT A SPEAKER!"

"You ARE far more than you think by the way people respond to just meeting you...your courage, your humor and charm...and the crazy way you dress."

"It isn't...THAT crazy...IS it?!!"

"It's unique and don't you ever change it!  I'm brand new at this speaking thing too.  Look my dear, we both have these stories everyone keeps begging us to tell.  We can do this.  YOU can do this.  Folks are drawn to you!"

"No shit.  I stand out."

"Yes, but I see them being inspired by you.  Or laughing like crazy at your funny stories!  My goodness child, you're only twenty-three years old and here I am almost, uh...forty-nine..."

"Nora, you're fifty-six!"

"That's to be kept between US, my dear!"

"We need to talk about this age thing you ha..."

"As I was SAYING...you already have lots more wisdom and experience and rising above shit than most do at ninety.  Folks WANT to hear you.  Folks NEED to hear you.  Folks adore you."

"As they need to hear you too, Nora.  Okay, I get it!  We can do this.  I hope.  By the way, uh...since this IS a maximum security prison we're speaking at, they can't lock us up if the inmates don't like us, can they?"😂

So off to prison Nora and I went.  

The women, guards, and Warden absolutely loved us.  We were asked to come back many times.  The Warden, guards, and most of all, the women, said we reached them in ways no one else ever did before.  

I think one of my favorite African American writers, Zora Neale Hurston says it best, "You have to go there to know there."  Meaning you have had to walk through it to be able to inspire.  That we weren't talking "at" them with just words, but "to" them as survivors like they could be too. 

Afterwards the Warden told his wife about us.  She had us come speak to her Women's Group, then those women invited us to come to their groups, and it took off from there.  However, I only took on speaking engagements aside from my work as a set designer.

Not always did we speak together, being asked to each speak at other groups or churches.  Through the years 

I have often been asked to speak at doctors groups.  These would involve question answer sessions, like how when I was nearly paralyzed permanently with only movement to my toes, did I do it focusing so hard until more movement happened.  Other sessions were all about dwarfism and how to relate to us best ("Well, for one thing, don't talk DOWN to a Little Person...talk TO them").

Becoming a speaker definitely was not something I set out to do.  Yet sometimes in life when we grab onto treasures in our own lives of survival and learning, we may just be meant to inspire others too if we can with how we got there ourselves.  

The very creation of this blog is because I have been asked many times through the years to please put in writing what I was speaking about for not only my listeners to keep, but so more may some day be blessed too.  

It is my hope you are.🐎😃🐎💫

 

I know...

One cannot help but be affected by the political events happening here in the U.S. and around the world too, as the virus continues to rage, along with hate.  It has been my intent to spare you, my readers, by keeping this blog free of these unfolding events by providing you this place where you come for a few moments each day.  Some of these events though do affect me and today I am sharing one in more depth with you that I haven't before.

As I have shared here I do not ever equate what I experience out there to what African Americans have endured, and live with.  Yet I sure can relate in more ways than one.  I have written about my dear friend Nora who became an adoptive mother figure/mentor along with Ella, Jackie, and Joseph when I was young.  Nora and I became in demand as speakers because of the ways we both had risen above severe challenges, and because we had a gift for inspiring people.  Actually I did not realize I had this gift until Nora hit me over the head with it and shoved me behind a podium one day to speak to a group of women inmates, but that story will be for another blog.😂

Nora was African American but I no more saw her colour than she did my shortness.  And she was astounded to meet someone who knew far more about black writers and artists in America than she did.  Langston Hughes, African American writer, became my someone I could identify with concerning the hell I was enduring as a Little Person because I had nowhere else to turn for anyone who had any understanding of the ridicule and rejection I faced each day.  

One thing I haven't touched on here is how dark I am.  I have a very dark complexion and spending so much time outdoors with my horses made me even more dark, besides having very black/brown eyes and hair.  Guess what though?  No one in my immediate family including grandparents had my coloring.  All had VERY fair skin, blond or reddish blond hair, and blue or green eyes.  

Recently I learned if one parent has blue eyes and one green eyes, or both have blue or green eyes, it is supposed to be genetically impossible for them to 

have a child with brown eyes.🤔 

From early childhood I get constantly asked what country I am from because of my dark complexion.  Many have dark complexions too out there, but when one is height challenged the non-humans assume this gives them the right to also rudely question my race.  By the way, it doesn't.

Even though I have become a very sickly pale in recent years I am still questioned where I am from, or worse, even get called not just "midget," but "n***a midget."  It's not just being called that word which upsets me as it is the profound hurt and outrage I feel because of those I love so deeply.  After I became a part of Nora's family and friends whenever they too heard me being called those words, they also felt an intense hurt and outrage because of their deep love for me, and the same sense of helplessness in being able to respond to such ugliness on that level.  The non-humans seem to assume it is their right to be so disrespectful and mean in this way. 

I have been told Felix Mendelssohn is my great, great, great uncle.  His sister, Fanny, married Wilhelm Hensel.  Fanny was a composer in her own right, while Wilhelm was a artist.  Their father, Moses Mendelssohn, was a philosopher, and with whom I share a very uncanny resemblance.  Same shaped dark eyes and facial structure.  He was also very short.  My geneticist, Dr. McKusick who compared my shared facial similarities with Moses, Felix, and Fanny firmly agreed.  They are the only ones on both sides of my family I remotely resemble. 

Anyway, I only have ever had one encounter with police in my life aside from the two who escorted Patches and I during The Ride.  To complete changes needed for a theatre set, my crew assisting me and I worked a little past 2 a.m one morning.  I was exhausted.  As I was driving home I was in the turning lane of a busy intersection.  The light turned green for the cars in the two lanes next to me.  Without thinking I proceeded through my RED light by turning left.

Thankfully no one was coming from the other direction when this happened.  As SOON as I began making the turn I realized my mistake and briefly threw both hands up in the air saying, "Oh shit!"😬 

Immediately after I did that blue lights began blazing on the car behind me.  Now I really said, "OH SHIT!"😱

Once I crossed the lanes of traffic I pulled over.  The officer was apparently calling to check on my license plate to see if I had any warrants or anything else criminal I was up to.  When he came to my window he was LAUGHING because he saw me throw my hands into the air immediately realizing what I had done.  Still he needed to see my license.  When he saw my height of 4'3" and my name he suddenly blurted out, "Why you're the Patches Lady, aren't you?!!"😃  

Though a number of years had passed since Patches and I had done The Ride there still are not many Little Persons around, especially one with a horse.  Then with concern he asked what I was doing out so late at night...was I okay?  I explained how as a Theatre Set Designer with Opening Night two nights later my crew and I had to make late changes to the set the Director requested.

"Wow...do you know what?  My wife and I were able to get tickets for Opening Night!  We're really looking forward to it!  And now I can tell her I met the Patches Lady who designed the set!"😃

With that he sent me on my way.  When he and his wife arrived at the theatre two days later they discovered someone had upgraded their seats from the back to two at front center.🤫

Yet it has never been lost on me through the years though, as nice as this dear officer was to me, had my driver's license shown my race to be African American and a male who happened to do the same exact thing I did by immediately realizing his mistake after innocently proceeding through a red turning lane light, the situation encountered could have been a far different, even sinister one.😪

My deep abiding hope is that change for African Americans and all people of colour in the U.S., is finally at last being embraced.  As well as all faiths, sexual preferences, and disabilities.  Someday, I even hope there will be change for those being targeted with the terrible ugliness and danger just because one is height challenged too.  Including one who still galloped through her life soaring anyway.💫🐎🤩🐎💫