Remember that name.... Michael Horton was raised in my sleepy hometown in South Central (by gawd) Florida, just west and north of Lake Okeechobee. Smurf as he was called had the flair and touch to be a great rodeo clown. His small stature gave him great balance to go along with his courage to attempt things to a raging 2,000 lb pissed of bull not many folks had tried before. Smurf ventured all over the states chasing the Rodeo and eventually landed in Texas. In his many years protecting Cowboys and pleasing the crowd he made his mark and made it to the Texas cowboy hall of fame for his exploits, not an easy task in the state of Texas. Smurf was one of the clowns for many of the rodeos I rode at as a young somewhat addled brained youth riding bulls....He saved my butt and many others attempting to do what is not natural....I have since grown the remainder of my brain cells missing at that age but still respect his ability in a sport no longer respected in the modern era.... One of the things I have always enjoyed is his family and their longevity in our area. His Grandfather Alton was a true Southern gentleman, he never missed a Sunday morning service at the baptist church unless his crops needed to be harvested and he would never walk into a house with a woman who was by herself. He said its just not proper..Now Altons mothers name was granny Shackelford, she lived to be 106 years old. Mrs Shackleford would tell stories to us kids in the late 70's how she could remember hearing the bell ringing at the Fort (Florida had a series of a dozen forts in the late 1800's) to warn that the Indians were coming and to prepare for an imminent attack.... Legends come in all sizes and all ages.... Yours truly with Smurf in the background many, many moons ago... https://vimeo.com/68403892
Great story, Ralph. Sounds like you had an amazing life as a child and an adventurous life as a young man.
Yeah and I limp every day it seems for those earlier adventures, currently my newest item is my right shoulder has decided to keep popping out of place..The heritage of my younger exploits. I am nobody but I am still amazed at the things those around me did and lived to tell... My wife has always asked me to write down some of the stuff we did as youngsters and only here lately have I thought of a few of those memories. I'll have to tell you one day the experiences of gathering cypress trees to make citrus ladders. The guys I worked with never wore shoes and made mushroom tea to sober up from the whatever wackadoodle drug they had injested. We would wade into the cypress sloughs waste deep looking for good ladder poles and these guys would be barefoot walking amongst the moccasins....Crazy bastards but tough as lighter wood....