My wife’s mother was laid up recovering from surgery last summer, and during that time, the normally active octogenarian was forced to spend her days inside the house moving about as little as possible. If there was an ideal situation to cultivate a television addiction, this was it.
A retired nurse, Jackie was well aware of the mental melt that might occur if she allowed herself to slip into an endless binge of brainless, melodramatic daytime TV. In an effort to avert the malady, she chose instead to peruse YouTube — a boundless universe of curiosities captured on video.
Sampling everything from the calming solace of taped church services to the unbounded belly laughs of funny pet videos, Jackie settled finally on what still strikes me as one of the most oddly entertaining offerings on the entire platform. My mother-in-law’s new favorite addiction? The British Royal Guard — specifically the King’s Mounted Guard, and most precisely one particular horse. His name is Ormonde.
“Listen, you guys need to come over to watch Ormonde with me some time,” she gushed. “He is just the most magnificent horse. I can watch him for hours!”
“OK, Mom,” Kristin said. “But like, what does he actually do?”
“He stands there guarding the doorway at Buckingham Palace while all the tourists walk by. It’s just the most wonderful thing. He’s so regal!”
Now I’ve only been part of the family for a mere 39 years, but I had never heard my mother-in-law mention even the word “horse” anytime ever. Now she seemed to have suddenly fallen head over heels for a tall, black stallion with a soldier on its back. Kristin and I decided we’d better take her up on the invitation because there was obviously something up with this new obsession.
Short of $20 popcorn and a pair of super-sized soda pops, our introduction to Ormonde had all the hype of a cinematic debut. Jackie readied the TV, dimmed the lights, and her new beau flashed to the screen in living color.
I was immediately underwhelmed. The horse stood in an arched doorway with a menacingly resolute member of the Royal Guard on his back while an endless stream of international tourists passed by on the sidewalk.
“Wait, I don’t get it,” I said. “What exactly are we watching for here?”
“Oh, just you wait,” she chuckled. “See that sign over horse’s shoulder? It’s there for a very good reason!”
The sign, in crisp white on black, began in underlined capital letters, “BEWARE, horses may kick or bite. Do not touch the reins!” The warning ended, of course, with a polite British, “Thank you.”
No sooner had we refocused our bemused gaze on Ormonde than an unwitting tourist stepped up right next to the massive beast, camera in hand, to snap a souvenir selfie. The invasion of the horse’s space was instantly evident, but Ormonde showed great restraint — right up to the moment the selfie snatcher reached for his rein. That’s when the horse grabbed the intrepid tourist by the backpack and flung her to the ground!
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Jackie chortled in glee! “That old boy isn’t messing around!”
That was it. This was my mother-in-law’s new thing — enduring hours of hopelessly uneventful video in order to enjoy the occasional pleasure of watching numbskulls and rule-breakers face their consequences at the hooves of a beautifully cantankerous beast!
Maybe bingeing on soap operas wasn’t such a bad option after all.
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.
