Cleanup has to make room for sentimental value

I’ve been slogging through file cabinets in my house this month – a total of 11 drawers worth, to be specific – in an attempt to update and consolidate a system that is haphazard at best.

Some of the contents are easy to discard, like decades-old receipts and warranties for appliances I no longer have.

But others are infused with sentiment.

Those are a challenge.

Take for example “Horses bought and sold.”

Keep in mind that we haven’t owned a horse in years. The last dated transaction I can find in this folder is from 2009.

And yet, how can I possibly discard these written reminders of our equine past?  

Just reading their names evokes so many memories.

There was “Doubtful,” so dubbed because family lore had it that your safe return to the barn was always “doubtful” if he was your mount.

Dear old “Gus” came to us as “Starbert Chief.” Like most registered horses, he quickly lost that official name and became our long-time resident kid horse, patiently tolerating dozens of first-time riders of all ages.

One day—when Gus was up in years—he decided he was done with that. He just flat refused to move. I think he determined he had earned enough jewels in his crown.

From that day forward, if he had a new rider (and oh, yes, horses know), he wouldn’t take a step, no matter how that young buckaroo flailed him with their tiny heels. You had to admire the old fellow.

The best bargain in this folder is on a flimsy yellow receipt that says “dark gelding,” with a price of $87.50 paid to the Ranchers and Farmers Livestock Auction in Clovis on June 10, 1969.

“Dark gelding” became our beloved “Geronimo.” If memory serves me, he was one of a truckload of older horses reportedly sold off a ranch near the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

He arrived the summer I was 7 years old; my brothers were 8 and 6.

As I remember it, Geronimo was mostly for my older brother, but we all rode him. He was the first full-sized upgrade we had after our foul-tempered pony, Peanuts, who miraculously never killed any of us (although it wasn’t for lack of trying).

Geronimo was an old horse with a heart of gold.

He tenderly carried us for the next several years, eventually spending his retirement in our yard where he could get some extra TLC, and (I swear I have this memory) stand by our picture window and move his lips as he watched reruns of “Mister Ed” with us.

So, yes, I am trying hard to cull many decades worth of files to a reasonable amount.

But Doubtful and Gus and Geronimo (and Tennessee and Preacher and Frosty and Spider and Red and Wicked Hank and all the rest) have nothing to fear.

The curator of their memories is a sentimental fool. Their file is safe with me.

Betty Williamson plans to never have any horses but the ones in this folder. Reach her at:

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