Hello Gideon,
I’m your rocking horse, made mostly of wood from
the majestic Douglas Fir tree grown in the Pacific Northwest. My beginnings
were long before you came to be. It was in 1982 that my journey, leading to
your life, began.
Your Granddad, Tim Cornelius, had started a new job
with Hewlett-Packard and within a few months he was designing and building his
family home off Tampico Road, near Corvallis, Oregon. With help from family and
friends, the house slowly began taking form, shape, and the character of a fine
earth sheltered home. The home address is 28913 Daystar Drive. Maybe you’ll have
an opportunity to visit there someday.
Among the lumber selected to build the home were us,
the glue-laminated beams, from which I came. We were the strongest of all lumber
in the home.
Using a forklift, your Great-Grandfather Garth,
Great-Uncle Brad, and friends from Albany (Randy, Steve and his son Johnny)
helped your Granddad raise and place all of us hefty beams to support the roof.
The secret was no one knew I was hiding inside one
of those beams. Someday I would be set free and brought to life.
That fall, even before the house was finished, your
Grandparents and their children, Chelsi and Ian, moved in.
Though young and small at first, the Cornelius
family grew in numbers with the addition of your Mother Sasha and her Sister
Demri.
For 23 years I gazed down from my important post
overhead, watching the family share love, laughter, joy, and, at times,
sadness. In time, as children do, they eventually grew up and moved away. I
remember those days and was sad to see them go.
When your Aunt Demri was your age your Granddad
made her a rocking horse. It was a fine-looking steed. They loved spending time together on
countless adventures.
It was then I knew what I wanted to be… a rocking
horse, bringing pleasure and happiness to children. But how would that ever be
possible, I’m just a wooden beam?
Years went by and in 2004 your Granddad and Grandma
Lisa looked the house over and decided it needed work. Soon they began a
remodeling project.
Several beams were removed from the living room and
dining room. They were reused elsewhere in the project.
Some were used to enlarge the woodshop and some to
build a new garage.
One lonely six-foot length of beam, the beam
secretly corralling me within, was all that remained of my family of reused beams.
Soon after the remodel was complete, your Granddad
and Aunt Demri moved back into the home.
Like your father, your Granddad is a gifted
woodworker, and as any woodworker knows you never part with any wood unless you
really have to, and such was the case when he saw me laying there. So, he
lifted me up and took me to the woodshop. It was cold. I was sad and felt
lonely, having nothing to do, feeling unwanted. What I truly wanted was to be
around the family, like the way it used to be, to be of value, of some worth.
Before long a For Sale sign was posted at the
beginning of the long driveway. But before the family home sold, your Granddad
gathered his woodworking tools from the shop. Then, looking around, he spotted
me in the corner and thought, “Ian may just be able to use that beam.” He
picked me up and hauled me to your Uncle Ian’s home in Ammon, Idaho. I was giddy!
Visions of some great service or purpose passed
through me. Is this my chance to be a rocking horse? No! To my shock, I was
used as a workbench in Ian’s garage. To top it off, Ian saddled his wood lathe
on me, causing heaps of sawdust to nearly smother me day after day. Didn’t Ian
realize I had the makings of a royal rocking horse? Neigh, he did not. Ian
thought of me as a workbench to be pounded on, scratched, bumped and left dirty
and dusty, day after day. It was not what I wanted to be, but I made the best
of the situation. As a workbench Ian and I helped other wood pieces come to
life.
Then I was moved from Idaho to Utah and for another
five years, in heat and cold, I continued to be used as Ian’s workbench. Eventually I was placed on a trailer in Philomath
for two years, laying under a tarp where I was climbed over by little furry
four-legged varmints. Then Ian hauled me to Federal Way, Washington. Then, two
years later, I was hauled once again, this time to your Granddad and Grandma
Lisa’s garage in Anacortes. All this time I patiently waited to be discovered,
hoping to be found and formed into what I was meant to be. To be a royal
rocking horse.
Ever the wood workers, your Granddad and Uncle
Ian built a woodshop in Ian’s backyard. They looked at me, talked about me and
decided I was to become a permanent workbench, to be mounted in a dusty
woodshop. At the time I guess your Granddad didn’t know I was a rocking horse
waiting, wanting, to be created. But when they tried to place me in the
woodshop, they discovered I was not large enough. “Whoopee!” I thought.
I am still free to become a royal rocking horse.
So, a much larger glue-laminated beam, a distant
cousin of mine, was used in the shop.
Alas, nobody knew there was a noble Clydesdale horse hiding in that
beam.
One day, a neighbor of your Granddad and Grandma
Lisa, Jim Kniskern, came and said he wanted to build a workbench in his garage.
He wanted to know if your Granddad had any spare wood he could use. Feeling a
sense of doom, I trembled as, quite reluctantly, your Granddad said yes, and
gave me to Jim. Jim had no idea I was a
rocking horse waiting to be born. He thought of me as just another piece of
wood. But before Jim could use me as a workbench, he had an accident and lost
his sight. So sorry about Jim. Now, with Jim unable to do any woodworking, I
hoofed it back to Granddad’s garage.
Time passed as I lay safe but my potential remained
unrealized. Then, in December of 2018, your Mother Sasha asked your Granddad if
he would make a rocking horse for your birthday. He anxiously agreed.
Then he and your Grandma Lisa began looking over
rocking horse designs and plans to find the most royal of all stallions.
Once they knew what I was to look like, your
Granddad pondered. “How might he become more than just any rocking horse?
How might he become something unique, something special... more special than
any rocking horse ever created?” Looking in the garage and pondering that
same thought he saw me in the corner. “Could there possibly be a royal
rocking horse inside that old beam?”
He lifted me and brushed away years of dust, Your
Granddad pondered again, “The family’s 37-year history with this old beam
would make it profoundly more meaningful to a deserving grandson. I wonder if
there’s enough wood in the beam to build a rocking horse?” Of course,
there’s enough of me to bring me to life as a rocking horse, I whinnied. If
only he could hear me say so!
Your Granddad carefully measured, measured again,
then he re-measured. He scratched his head and finally, said aloud, “Yes, by-golly, there’s just enough wood to
create Gideon’s rocking horse!” Now that was great news, for that rocking
horse to be created is ME!
Having the right woodworking tools and equipment
made all the difference in my liberation. Since I was old, some of my wood
pieces broke and had to be re-glued before being cut out.
A good friend of your Granddad, Bill Weaver, made
his shop available for the project. Bill
carefully, and patiently, instructed them on the use of his equipment. Bill
wanted to make sure I didn’t end up with a broken leg.
My creation became a family affair. Your Uncle Ian
finally recognized my true nature and even took time to cut and sand my many pieces.
The careful cutting, shaping, sanding and more
sanding went on and on for days. It seemed to be taking forever!
Finally, I burst forth, released from my wood
confinement. I was free and alive!
Let me give you a rundown of my equestrian majesty.
My saddle is made from black walnut, provided for your riding comfort. It came from your Great- Grandparent’s farm
(Grant and Gayle) in Corvallis, Oregon.
Your Uncle Ian acquired the wood in 2008 after attending your
Great-Grandfather Grant’s funeral. Their neighbor, John Adair, who owned a
sawmill, skillfully cut and milled the wood years before.
After John Adair passed away, your Granddad’s
brother Kevin and his wife Janet, purchased his home and property. Your
Granddad was allowed to take some wood that remained in John’s woodshop, which
included more black walnut from the farm. Those pieces were used for my saddle
sides, and to strengthen my legs.
The color variations of the wood represent the
part of the tree from which the wood was cut. The deep purple-brown wood is
called heartwood, having been cut from the center of the tree. The lighter
cream-colored pieces are sapwood from the outer edges of the tree.
Once all my parts and pieces were cut out, shaped,
and sanded, it was time to put me together.
Once together, your Granddad colored my mane and
tail black and gave me my cream-colored hair.
Then your Granddad painted me with three coats of
satin finish for protection. It felt so good to have a beautiful smooth finish
so lovingly applied.
Finally, I was marked with the Rocking R brand. This
completed my transformation into a royal rocking horse just for you.
Thanks to your Granddad I’m no longer a
glue-laminated beam, I’m no longer a workbench, and I’m not just a piece of
wood. I’m a beautiful royal rocking horse. But not just any rocking horse, I’m
your rocking horse forever. Best of all, I’m back with my family again. And
that, dear Gideon, makes me feel I truly am of great worth.
Now, climb on my back and let’s ride away and
explore the world’s most wondrous adventures. Day after day we can climb
mountains, gallop across prairies, and trot the valleys of the west. We can
herd cattle, race in a Derby, or just horse around!
As the years pass and you outgrow me, I may be stored
in an attic with cob-webs and old toys. I will miss you and wish for your
return. But someday, when you have children of your own, we can be together once
more. And, in your home, with your children and their imagination, they will
bring me to life again, to be a royal rocking horse, and be of great worth, and
bring the same joy I hope to bring to you.
Love,
Your Rocking Horse, Royal
Pictured are those who were instrumental in my
creation.
Bill Weaver, Jim Kniskern, Granddad Tim, Grandma
Lisa, and Uncle Ian.
