Grilled Cheese and Horse Manure

I will argue with anyone that Park Avenue in West Hempstead was the greatest street in the whole wide world to grow up on. I lived across the street from a park. We had wildlife galore. Once, I befriended a rat that let me pick him up and put him in an aquarium that I had in the yard. Typically, I used the tank for toads. I had a catch-and-release program with them. I named the rat Templeton and moved him into my aquarium. Our relationship went well until my parents found out about it, my mom screamed, and my BFF Templeton was released into the wild.

The highlight of my neighborhood was always the horse stables around the corner. I did a little research and found that the stables have been on Eagle Avenue since at least 1926. When I was a kid, my friend Julie and I would leave our homes on Park Avenue and walk to the stables. We kept a stash of carrots because the people who owned the stables would let us feed the horses. They were majestic. They had their own personalities. Some liked us; some looked like they wanted to kick us in the head. Unless they saw the carrots.

One day, I went over to Julie’s house and found out that somebody had given her a saddle! A real, used-on-a-horse, beautiful saddle. We kept it on her porch and would spend hours sitting on it. While we weren’t at the stables, we COULD smell the horses at the house. When our moms cooked lunch, we could smell the beautiful combination of grilled cheese with a side of horse manure. We ate our sandwiches on the saddle, which probably wouldn’t be safe on a real horse. I have never seen an equestrian on a horse, holding the reins with one hand and a hoagie in the other.

You can still see the horses of Eagle Avenue if you are in West Hempstead today. If you like to hike, you can see them walking through the park. You can also see them walking down Eagle Avenue, to and from the stables. I used to love watching the poor guy with a shovel who had to follow them to take care of their “deposits.” Horses are not aware that it’s impolite to poop in the street. I used to get the same thrill watching the elephants at the circus. There was always some poor guy in charge of operating the largest pooper scooper known to man.

I have never been on a West Hempstead horse. My daughter was—she took lessons a few years ago at the stables. I have only been on a horse one time in my life. It was out on the east end of Long Island. We rode on the beach, which is something I’m pretty sure Wyatt Earp never got to do in Dodge City or Tombstone.

Recently, I was in Arizona and had the opportunity to ride a horse, but I declined. The horse looked nervous when I was offered the chance to ride him. I took pity on him. I felt like if I hopped on, I could hurt his back. I’ve never seen a horse collect workers’ compensation because a big guy jumped on his back.

Julie and I no longer live on Park Avenue. Parts of the neighborhood have changed, but much is still the same. I could say the same thing about the stables. They’ve undergone renovations over the years. I still get a thrill watching those magnificent animals clip-clop down the street.

I believe many of them look at me as they trot by, thinking, “I hope that guy doesn’t want to ride.”