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.