Pony Boy

I have this picture on the wall in my office. I see it every day and it just blends in with my daily life. One day I took a good look at it and tried to remember what I could of that time.

I must have been about 5 years old. It seems like my grandmother had something to do with my tap dance lessons, which I took at Christian Park in the recreation center. Later in life, I took baton lessons there. I don't remember much about the lessons, just the rudimentary first steps you learn in tap dancing, heel-toe, heel-toe, shuffle-kick. I don't remember practicing, but I must have.

My grandmother made my costume. I have a very foggy memory of going to her house on Pleasant Run Parkway and being fitted in the dining room, standing on a chair, her old Singer sewing machine sitting on the table.

Then there was the recital. It was at night in a theater downtown somewhere. Someone applied my lipstick in the car at the last minute. That was a big deal, to wear lipstick. We did a dance routine to the song Pony Boy. I did fine, the girl in the middle did fine, but the blonde on the end kept losing her hat and when she did, the audience laughed. I remember thinking they were laughing at me. 

 

"Pony boy, pony boy, 

won't you be my pony boy. 

Don't say no, here we go, ride away with me. 

Marry me, carry me, right away with you. 

Giddee-up, giddee-up, whoa! My pony boy!"