On a warm summer afternoon, June 22, 1957, a man showed up at the neighborhood playground with a pony. He persuaded the young mothers to pay him a few dollars to put their toddlers in the saddle for a moment while he snapped a picture. Then he set off for the nearby garden apartments with the pony plodding behind him. And we followed the pony. And him, all afternoon. We were liberal with our suggestions as to where he was likely to find a family to pay for a photo and we led him all over the neighborhood that afternoon.

As dinnertime approached, he asked us where we lived but we were reluctant to tell him so he followed us home. Three-year-old Laurie was awake from her nap but Chris, just a year and a half old, was still asleep. We piled into the house, clamoring for a photo but Mom said no. Then the photographer pleaded with her.

"They've been following me around all afternoon. I've kept an eye on them and kept them out of trouble. Surely you could spare a couple of dollars for my trouble."

"Mom, it's Bobby's birthday! Why don't you make it his present?!" She relented to a chorus of cheering. The photographer put the bandana and cowboy hat on Bob and the sleepy Chris on the pommel. Peg got the backseat behind Bob and the rest of us lined up. I've never seen another picture with Bob so happy.

When my Father got home we were jumping with excitement, but he yelled at Mom for spending money on non-necessities. That quieted us down, fast.

When the picture came in though, he loved it, and he put it on his desk at work where it stayed for the next 10 years.