Each of us had a hobbyhorse to keep us busy when we were not really busy. Deb’s hobbyhorse was real. She took riding lessons at Bobbin Hollow, south of Amherst on the way to Belchertown. Her instruction was less expensive than buying our own Morgan, although we could have kept a horse in the corral the Kilmers maintained next door to us. Somehow, I had convinced Deb I would reconsider buying one when she was a senior in high school. My alternate hope was later fulfilled. By the time she was a senior, she was more interested in high school drama than in owning a horse.
She could continue to satisfy her equine desires by going, almost daily, to the stables at Tilson Farm, an agricultural addition to UMA, bordering our backyard. There she groomed her four-legged friends whenever she wanted to and not when she had to. The lessons and riding competitions at Bobbin Hollow accommodated her needs to straddle an English saddle. My role was to drive her there each Saturday morning. This gave me a weekly opportunity to buy fresh eggs and to purchase delicious honey-filled candy bites in their farm store.
Ken and Chris were probably too young to have “hobbies,” per se. They managed to keep busy by doing whatever they were engaged in doing. Ken did have his electronics. Perhaps, his hobby was to de-construct any and every electric apparatus in the house, with an expectation of returning it to its original working condition.
Karen’s hobby was hiking, rather than riding. The Metacomet-Monadnock Trails associated with the Appalachian Trail passed near Amherst and its surrounding ridges. Karen and her female hiking friends would drive a car to an appropriate entrance to the system and hike to the next station where another car had been left for the ride back.
Spring and fall were no doubt the best times for their adventures, but she did own a pair of snowshoes for winter walks. I was able to borrow them on a few occasions when snowstorms prevented her from driving me for the five-minute commute to my office, a destination I could otherwise reach with a twenty-minute brisk walk. My snowshoeing was not unlike trying to slide on tennis rackets with handles that always punctured the frozen snow at the wrong angle. If the weather was really bad, it was better to stay home, as did the students and the rest of the faculty. The students, however, found that dining-hall trays made exciting sleds for the hills around the campus, when the snow was deep on the university walkways.
My own hobbyhorse consisted of destriers rather than Morgans. For some unknown reason, my years in Amherst were the ones during which I became extremely interested in the history of the Middle Ages and of the knights who rode those war horses in tournaments and battles. The Templars fascinated me. My personal library expanded to include dozens of books on their history and culture. I even began to write a novel entitled: “Beauseant!” which was the battle cry for the Knights of the Temple of Solomon.
My hero was Paul Blackwood, also known as Paulo Bois de Noir or merely Boisdenoir. His companion was Guy de Coeur. Over my seven years in Amherst, I completed the first six chapters of a book that became consigned to an electronic version held captive in my computer and transferred with every upgrade, once I had entered the last revision on my first Compaq in 1983.
The Templars, founded in the early 12th century, were officially arrested on Friday the Thirteenth of 1307 by Philip IV for blasphemy and homosexuality. Actually, the King of France wanted the Templars’ treasury, which was extremely large. Their funds resulted from banking arrangements in which they invented. Their sacred military mission was to help pilgrims journey from Europe to Jerusalem and to the Medieval kingdoms established as a result of the Crusades. Their last Grand Master was Jacques de Molay, associated with the Masonic Order which, in legend, replaced the Templars.
Another result of my interest in the Templars and their endeavors was a corollary fascination with Dante and his Divine Comedy, published in 1317. My fictional hero named Blackwood had a high resonance with the Dark Wood in which Virgil and Dante traveled through the Inferno and Purgatory to reach Paradise. Alas, as I was contemplating my own literary fantasies, I, too, was living out those years of the “middle of my life.”
Although I did not pursue writing my novel, I did continue my interest in Medieval times and, in particular, Dante. During the past two years in Houston, I have taken on-line courses relating to in-depth studies of his Divine Comedy. I finally have made my literary journey through the Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise. It continues to be debatable where my hobbyhorse currently rests on my own comedic journey.