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My dad has been going through old boxes and sent me this photo. I remember the day, but not the rest. He attached a note. I am thankful for other people’s better memories.

“We were on a family vacation up in the San Juan Mountains in southern Colorado and this was your birthday present from me and your mother, back then, on the 29th of June in 1981.

You wanted to go for a trail ride with David, it was all you wanted to do, so we did and Uncle John and I came along too. It was a beautiful day when we started out, down in the valley, but the weather changed up on the side of the mountain: it went from a nice day to damn cold real quick, and a big strong wind came up and black clouds moved in low and it snowed and then it hailed; it hailed hard and lighting was cracking all around us.

The sudden bad-weather change spooked the stupid trail horses and scared the shit out of the young wrangler who was our guide. And I was sure glad John had come with us; he told us to get off the horses, to do it right now, and get under whatever cover we could find, and we did. Then we collected the horses and came down the mountain after the weather passed. We all had big tales to tell that night.”

Apparently Uncle John’s horse rolled on him and stepped on his back. This is the same trip where I fell climbing a rock, busted my chin open and Uncle John taped it shut. I still have a scar.

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