Knots on a Counting Rope

[Penny McCauley <penny@zianet.com>]

My first grader son came home with a book called "Knots on a Counting 
Rope", by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archamboult.

The story starts out with the telling of the birth of a Hopi child in 
the Painted Desert. The child was a son born without strength. The 
grandfather took the infant out of the hogan and two great blue horses 
came galloping by...and the infant raised his arms to the great blue 
horses. The grandfather said, "See how the horses speak to him. They are 
his brothers from beyond the dark mountains. This boy child will not 
die."
The child was named Boy-Strength-of-Blue-Horses. Each day the infant 
grew stronger and learned to cross the dark mountains. Yet there were 
more dark mountains to challenge the boy, for he was born without sight.
Boy-Strength-of-Blue-Horses learned to see the horses with his hands. 
A few years later a foal was born. A paint filly out of a appy mare. The 
boy named the filly, Rainbow. Rainbow soon became the boy's eyes. She 
took him to the sheep, wherever they were. She took him home. Then the 
boy taught Rainbow to race. The boy and the horse followed the 
grandfather along the trail course. The boy traced the trails in his 
mind. Down the washes, up the canyons. The boy learned when to turn by 
the pull of the little mare's neck and by counting her gallops.
Then it was tribal day. And Boy-Strength-of-Blue-Horses was entered in 
the horse race. The boy and his horse rode the race with only a halter.
"But I didn't win, Grandfather."
"No, but you rode like the wind."
"I finished the race, hot and dusty, sweat dripping from my face..."
"And you were smiling, Boy!"
"I wasn't afraid, Grandfather. I could see through the dark every turn 
of the race. Rainbow and I knew the way."
"You were crossing dark mountains, Boy!"
"Boy-Strength-of-Blue-Horses, you have raced darkness and won! You now 
can see with your heart, feel a part of all that surrounds you. Your 
courage lights the way."

Now that the story has been told again, I will tie another knot in the 
counting rope. When the rope is filled with knots, you will know the 
story by heart and can tell it to yourself.

This story reminded me greatly of Angie's Becky. And of myself and the 
dark mountains that challenge me. Of truly what it means, To Finish is 
to Win.
Penny (NM)