My Grandmother's Horse

There's a part of me that wants to say, "My grandmother's horse was too large for the shelf, so it stood 90 years on the floor." (Sorry for the earworm, those of you who know the tune).  Unfortunately, none of that is true except for this one point: my grandmother's horse was not on a shelf, but it stood somewhat fewer than 90 years on top of a television set.

Of course, I'm not talking about a real horse here, but a model one.  In fact, the horse in question was a Beswick foal, a first version #F836 in glossy bay to be specific, and in time it became my first Beswick.

I have vivid childhood memories of visiting my paternal grandmother and gazing raptly at the shining china horse perched on top of her massive old-fashioned television set.  It was within my reach, but I was strictly forbidden to touch it, let alone play with it.  It was not for touching, it was for gazing on in wonder, and I don't think I ever once visited my grandmother's house without checking to see that it was still there.

My grandmother's horse (now mine)

It wasn't hard to spot as my grandmother did not have a lot of knick-knacks or decorations in her house.  Her husband, a grandfather I never knew, was an artist and a sign painter by trade, so there was art on almost every wall.  But I can only clearly remember three other decorations scattered around the living room -- a small silver (possibly pewter) buffalo, a furry Ookpik, and a kind of puzzle sculpture made of wire and beads.  The puzzle was the only one I was allowed to touch.

My grandmother did have a few toys tucked away for visiting grandchildren to play with, but the only one I remember with any clarity was a marionette which I found too complicated to manipulate.  I think I may sometimes have been allowed to bring a few of my own toys from home to play with if the visit was going to be a long one.  But really, I got the most joy out of gazing at that Beswick foal.

My paternal grandmother was the first of the grandparents I knew to pass away.  My father became executor of her will, but as far as I can figure there wasn't much to it -- after all, she left very little behind.  I don't believe there were any special bequests for specific grandchildren.  However, once everything got sorted out, we were each given an opportunity to say if there was something we particularly wanted to have as a keepsake of our grandma.  And of course, I asked for the horse.

In the end I got the buffalo too, as no one else seemed to want him, but the little Beswick was immediately my most precious possession.

His war wound

He has a broken hind leg that's been kind of messily repaired.  He's had a broken hind leg for as long as I've known him.  I've no idea when it happened, or how, but suspect that sometime before I even came into the picture he took a tumble off the TV and was hastily glued back together.

I could get him professionally restored -- and I know just the person I could ask to do it -- but there's something holding me back from doing that.  To me, his unmistakable injury marks him as my grandmother's horse, still standing after all this time.

So my grandmother's horse now stands on my shelf -- may he stand there for many years more!