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Horse with no Name

By Tina Portelli


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Author Biography;

Tina Portelli, Brooklyn, NY

I started keeping journals for my personal use, then I thought, hey, these are pretty good stories, so now I am actively writing non-fiction short stories, which I hope will put a smile on every readers face! Most are about life in New York City and Me!


Not my type of music by any means, yet, this song by America moves me in a

way that no other does.  I love opera and classical music, not hippie songs

of the seventies.


When I hear this song, it evokes a feeling of utter utopia in me.  I do not

associate this song with romance or a singular event, but a time, a few

hours on any given Saturday.


In 1972  I was a new bride.  It was the first time I lived in a place of my

own, first time out of the parent nest.  At twenty-two I felt liberated;

 to think, this refrigerator was mine, this bed, the towels, sheets, all

mine.  (Oh yes, and his.)   But this is not about him.  This is about my

experience of having my own place and what it meant to me.


After a week of hard work at the office, I would look forward to my weekend

at home. Not because I was going anywhere special, but because Saturday was

my day to clean.  I would chase the husband out of the house with

instructions not to return before 4:00.  The first thing I would do is open

all the windows and let the summer winds flow through, rip the sheets off

the bed, throw away old food, get my cleaning weapons out of the cabinet

and get ready for action.


I would perk a pot of coffee, which, with my radio, would be my companions

of the day.  And then I'd get started.  Putting up a fresh sauce to simmer

for hours was my first task.  I could then focus and get to the hard labor.


Scrub those floors, shine all surfaces, wash, fold, press, put away the

essence of my week. While some would consider this drudgery, I found it to

be pure pleasure.   While enjoying the solitude of the day, I would listen

to the radio, and popular songs would be played over and over and over.


"A Horse With No Name" a song by the popular group  "America"  was the hit

of the time.  I still don't know what the song is about, what messages lie

in those words, but when I hear that tune I immediately feel the wave of

joy that lived in me back then.   I am brought back to a time that is

etched in my mind, remembering the newness and pridefulness of having my

own home.  I have often heard my old wedding song played, and my eyes do

not blink and there is not a trace of melancholy.    But the memory of

those  summer Saturdays fill me with pure joy.


I am now single, I still have my Saturday ritual of cleaning my apartment,

with coffee by my side and music I understand.  Once in awhile I cheat and

go back for a dose of that horse. I am still in awe of that blissfully

potent effect that old horse song still has on me.  And,  I am eternally

grateful for it.


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