This clearly has nothing to do with linguistic anthropology, or any of the terms in Duranti’s book. It does, however, combine a lot of things I love and I think it’s interesting, and it’s my blog, so my rules!
Just before I left home to return to Toronto for school after the Christmas break, I was searching for my tack cleaning supplies in the basement, when in my random sampling of boxes of stuff, I came across a bunch of my old riding gear. Tiny helmets and pint sized breeches, my first pair of leather field boots with the calfs taken in to accomodate my scrawny 12 year old awkwardness, an assortment of neon polo wraps and whips with hand-shaped poppers on the end I’d won at schooling shows; all stuff my mom had failed to get rid of at the latest garage sale. As soon as I opened the box, I abandoned my quest for Lexol leather cleaner, sat down on the unfinished concrete floor and pulled everything out.
Poring over it for about half an hour, I thought to myself- what would someone else think if they came across this stuff. To me, it brought back memories of my childhood, of spending hours at the piano perfecting my scales so that I could earn the opportunity to compete in the horse show that weekend with a flawless lesson; of long nights at the barn braiding horses and cleaning tack, of pulling each others boots off in the trailer tack room when we all forgot our boot jacks at the barn. To my mom, they might represent the years we fought over whether or not I’d get to ride, or the hours spent driving me out to the barn, or aimlessly in the country in search of horses.


