By Marlene Whitlock Peterson
No one wanted him to do it. They said, “He’s too old. He might hurt himself.” Yet, for over two years, there was a persistent desire in my Dad that would not detour his dream.
So, four brave souls, dressed in cowboy boots and brims, cheered him on he decided to take the ride. When we first got to the stable, we were instructed to read all of the forms and familiarize ourselves with possible dangers. Edgar Whitlock (Daddy) was the first to sign up. I wanted to turn back. But how could I? Gus Trent, the owner, taught Horseback Riding 101, assigned horses based on a quick personality assessment and then helped us mount.
I climbed up with hesitance, but Edgar raised his 89-year-old legs and calmly straddled the horse. We started out in single file and rode for about an hour through meadows and over slopes and high grasses. We encountered cows and dogs. We crossed streets, took horsy bathroom breaks, heard gunshots, and even got the opportunity to herd cows. We felt like real cowboys and cowgirls. Nothing shook Edgar.
On our way back to the stable, we slowed down and rode into the most radiant, orange-colored sunset. It felt like a reward. It looked like a movie scene. Edgar continued to trot gallantly. He didn’t say a word, but his demeanor and smile said, “I conquered it.” We conquered too!
After the ride, Gus created a Facebook live video and informed followers that Edgar was the oldest rider he had ever trained. If he had asked for his secret to success, I’m sure “Chief Power” (the family nickname for Edgar, our patriarch) would have cited one of his favorite lines, “apart from Jesus, I can do nothing.”
