We were either too poor to take a pony ride or there were no ponies in the city, because there are no “pony pictures” in my family. But who needs a pony? Even living in a big city like Philadelphia, we still had some tough cowboys to defend us! Here’s my favorite photo of my brother:
With a gun in one hand, and a bottle in the other, he’s off to save the world. Or at least prevent his pacifier from being stolen.
[Submitted for the 78th Edition of the Carnival of Genealogy: Pony Pictures]