Riding a Good Horse in the Snow Part 2

By John Kass

November 16th, 2025

The other day I set aside the great book I was reading—“A War Like No Other” about the Peloponnesian War by Victor Davis Hanson—got up from my chair and used my cane to hobble over to the glass doors.

I opened the doors and there it was, a perfect Northwest Indiana lake effect snowstorm.

The flakes puffy and white against the red burning bush in the backyard, on the evergreens, the wind swirling the flakes cold in the yard beyond.

And that’s when I thought about that horse and how great it would be to ride that horse in the snow.

Sounds odd, I know.

I remembered it years ago. It was a different life. This was years ago when I rode that horse, and years later when I first wrote of it. About seven years ago now, in another column and another snow, like this quiet heavy snow from days ago that I’m thinking about now.

Mid-November was time for bird hunting back then in my world with my stubborn mule-headed German Shorthair Pointer, Jason.

I could still walk then, and ride, and hunt a field of cut corn, and train a dog and wade a cold river fishing for trout, steelhead and salmon. And I could drive a car.

But things change. You know this if you have wits. And if you can’t grasp this truth of life then quit or grow the (bleep) up.

Many of you probably don’t give two figs about the horse. That’s OK too. But back when I could drive, I was heading east on Ogden Avenue in that snowfall and my car wipers stopped working. I had to repair them. The Honda guy noticed the tread was gone on my front tires, and the front brakes were gone, too. Merry Christmas to me.

But I was thinking of how nice it is to ride a good horse in the first snow.

Not some picture-book horse with flowing mane and tail, but a real horse, an American horse.

“I’ve often said, there is nothing better for the inside of a man, than the outside of the horse,” said the late President Ronald Reagan, paraphrasing Winston Churchill.

Both men were right. It’s good for women and men.

It’s quiet out in the woods on a horse in the snow, with your heels down in the stirrups in the trot, your weight on your toes, the plumes of breath rising, the warmth, the squeak of the leather, the muffled thump of hooves.

There’s a rhythm to the gait of a decent horse. And if you’re lucky you’ll see things, like deer in the woods. Most often you’ll see the does near a trail, but once there was a big buck in his prime. The buck’s eyes were wide; he had a thick neck to swing those antlers which were weapons on his head. He waited.

The horse and I stared at him and he stared right back. The trees were bare and black against the snow. Then he was gone.

When you write a newspaper column, it’s easy to be reduced to stereotype by readers who are angered by your opinions. I’m sure it happened to my colleagues, too.

It’s how things work now. Ridicule is the coin of this realm. But people don’t know what they don’t know. And they don’t know about me and that horse.

Back when I was writing a column at “the paper, “but could still drive a car and ride a horse.

I left the car at the dealership, contacted editors to say I would miss a meeting, and stopped for coffee on Clark Street. On the menu they offered eggs “The Chicago Way.” Hmm hmm good.

Across the street there was a BMW dealership, and I thought of that blue BMW that Chicago Outfit boss Anthony “The Hatchet” Chiaramonti drove once to an urgent morning meeting at a Brown’s Chicken in Berwyn.

They got him in the vestibule.

And later, I asked a Grand Avenue guy who knew the dead Hatchet: Why did they call a morning meeting at a Brown’s fried chicken?

“Where do you think it should be?” he asked. “In an Italian restaurant with checkered tablecloths and candles stuck into bottles of Chianti? This isn’t a movie. It’s life.”

Riding that horse in the snow, was life, too, but a different life.

Let me ask you: How many different lives have you had? How many lives were broken, with the beginning of some new life sprouting from the broken place?

Back then I was a kid, having come home from the Merchant Marine, forced to give up a career at sea because of an allergy to grain dust. I was angry and raging about coming home and hated myself and the world.

I took a few courses at Moraine Valley Community College in Palos Hills. They offered a horseback riding class. And I was lonely and the student female to male ratio in the horse class was about 18-1. (smiley face)

The young women had long flat hair like Joni Mitchell, their hair smelled of herbs. They were artsy and long legged like volleyball players and wore Justin boots and listened to Dylan. And so, that angry, lonely boy took a riding class, and fell in among the horses.

Riding is one of those things you learn when young, like hunting or fishing. If you don’t learn it when that window of your life is open, you might never learn it at all.

I was lucky. The instructors were looking for help in exercising horses that were boarded at their stable. I could ride a bit. I wasn’t a cowboy, but I could ride. Some owners didn’t have the time to ride their horses regularly. A few students were quietly chosen to take the private horses, and class horses, out on the trail when they required exercise and let them work out the kinks, let them work off the friskiness.

Not for some stupid full-out run, not cutting wildly through the trees risking injury to the horse. But just enough to get their blood up a bit, so they wouldn’t go crazy in their stalls, then leading them on a long walk to cool down and finally, a thorough brushing.

They helped settle things in me. And I hope I helped settle them. They weren’t blooded thoroughbreds or dynamic stallions like the great French jumper Galoubet A, a magnificent, temperamental horse you probably never heard of.

The ones I rode were decent pet horses. I kept carrots and apples in my coat pockets for them.

 

French Jumper Galoubet

The broken windshield wiper was random, and what had been completely forgotten rushed out at me from some other life I once had. And I wondered: Who was that guy?

That angry kid on the chestnut quarter horse in the woods in the southwest suburbs of Chicago, angry that a life at sea had been taken from him, the kid with apples in his pockets, the black bark of the trees and that buck in the snow.

And now I just can’t get myself back in the saddle, just like I can’t hunt a field with my two sons, just like I can’t wade along the frozen river rocks with Steve the Pilot and Ross the Baker.

And I can’t engage in Hoplite battle like the Spartans and Athenians.

Like I often tell myself, John Grow the Bleep Up!

But I have been blessed by God with the love of my wife Betty and the boys, and the young women they plan on marrying.

And though I can’t ride a good horse in the snow anymore, God has given me the gift that I can write about it and get myself in the saddle that way. And that way I walk the river and hunt. But I can’t train a dog from the red leather chair in my study. Or from the laptop in my home office.

Still, God has blessed me with work I can do, the ability to think and write. He left my brain pretty much intact, and He’s given me wonderful readers who inspire me and read what I write, and to make a living doing what I do, and time to cherish them also. But I’m not writing or riding now.

Right now, I remember the weight of the chestnut quarter horse standing next to me in the barn and brushing him, and the plumes of his breath in the cold stillness and the scent of it.

The brush in my hands, the weight of the apples and carrots in the pockets of my field jacket, all of it.

-30-

About the author: John Kass spent decades as a political writer and news columnist in Chicago working at a major metropolitan newspaper. He is co-host of The Chicago Way podcast. And he just loves his “No Chumbolone” hat, because johnkassnews.com is a “No Chumbolone” Zone where you can always get a cup of common sense.

Merchandise Now Available: If you’re looking for a gift for that hard-to-buy for special someone who has everything, just click on the link to the johnkassnews.com store.

Where else would you find a No Chumbolone™ cap or a Chicago Way™ coffee cup?

Because I know this about you: You’re not a Chumbolone.

Comments 65

  1. You are one of the best on the Planet. I cannot open an email and not reading your Podcast. You are the best and love your stories. Writing is in your blood. Love it and miss you a lot. Love to your family. Kala Xristougena. Please keep writing never stop.

  2. John, what a beautiful and personal column. In addition to your family, you are loved and respected by so many. Keep telling truth to power! For us, you walk on water.

  3. “When you write a newspaper column, it’s easy to be reduced to stereotype by readers who are angered by your opinions”= Ain’t it the feckin’ truth!

  4. Your words inspire memories. Early snows, the bite of the mountain wind as we saddled up to pursue elk, quiet winter mornings in the north woods with zero wind and dead silence, except for the beat of your own heart.

    Reflections on a life well lived. That is what you have and why you write.

  7. John, I so appreciated your column. We left Chicago in 77 and settled in southwest Michigan to raise our 5 children. Loved growing up in Chicago the first 27 years of my life but never regretted moving to Berrien County and teaching here for 35 years, and serving in local government for 17 years. I always look forward to your columns and the guests who you host in these columns at times. Rich Sullivan

  8. Stereotypes, though in many instances correct, are just lazy thinking. Dr. King spoke years ago about judging a man by the content of his character. We are all so much ,ore than what is on the surface, what those who know us casually can see.

    The patience required to give someone a chance, instead of relying on a stereotype can translate into other areas. Just like the patience required to learn to shoot, hunt, ride, write….

    It also tell me that being an ideologue is lazy. This current false political binary that is tearing our nation apart.

    We should not be sheep. We should think for ourselves.

  12. Thanks John. Good story been in Chicago my 66 years. I’m waiting for those white flakes. If St. John’s didn’t tax my pension I’d be there waiting for the white fkakes

  13. Wonderful column! It brought back a flood of memories to me in what has been a rough year; 3 deaths in the family and a 4th pending. I retire this tear too and it scares me more than a little. It’s always rough when a stage of life you’ve loved comes to an end. Thank you!

  14. I miss the days of reading the Chicago Tribune which I started reading in high school. The headliner then of course was Royko but never would I have thought his man-with-no-name replacement would match his skills. I stopped buying the Tribune soon after the overthrow of the old guard took place and watched it devolve into liberal trash (maybe 2007-08?). The Trib was always the more buttoned down conservative paper the Sun-Times the more Democrat leaning, easier to read on the L choice. Which one you carried under your arm said something about you. I was a proud Tribune guy.

    You know the Reagan saying, I didn’t leave the Tribune, the Tribune left me. Every now and then I’ll go out somewhere for breakfast and a stray copy of either paper is there on the counter. They’re like pamphlets now and as bad as the Tribune is the Sun-Times is outright Leftist propaganda. They did it to themselves, same for the Daily Herald which swung hard left too. I hate getting my news online or radio/TV but what’s the alternative? I miss the old newspaper experience, just like I prefer a real book not some cold Kindle eReader. I’ll never again enjoy the morning ritual and it is disappointing to me.

    I’m glad you’re here – it is all that’s left of that lost joy. I lost my horse.

  15. Beautiful John,
    Thank you again for your insight of why we sometimes need to “ Grow the bleep up”.
    As we grow older we do forget the blessings that we have. Thanks again for reminding us of those cherished memories.

  19. “While experiencing happiness, we have difficulty in being conscious of it. Only when the happiness is past and we look back on it do we suddenly realise – sometimes with astonishment – how happy we had been.”

    Nikos Kazantzakis

  20. Thank you for this beautiful imagery. Life presents opportunities and challenges at every stage. Sometimes we just need a four legged creature by our side.

  22. Nice reminiscence, John. I loved reading all the Walter Farley gooks about the Black Stallion and his progeny. I exercised the horses at our county fairgrounds stabled by my piano teacher’s husband, Harley. That is, until one a roan tried to scrape me off its abcack under a tree branch. During my surgery residency one of surgeon teachers who grew up on a Willamette farm with horse commented while we were scrubbing in that the automobile had saved countless lives from people who would have been killed or severely injured in horse related accidents. In my practice I cared for some of these patients. I warned these patients about the risk but it is hard to convince horse olers, especially women, and I ended up caring for them on their repeat horse caused mishaps. Horse are among the most beautiful animal on earth but they are skittish and are very powerful animals. I never talked to an old farmers who longed for the days when they farmed with horses versus their tractors! Love you columns, John. Greg Ganske, MD, Member of Congress (ret, R-IA)

  23. Saw the word cherish in your column this morning, probably not seen or heard of it since the Association used it in a song a long time ago. With moist eyes I recalled a lot of memories from days gone by. Thanks John for unlocking those happy tears this morning. I like to say we’re in uniform , not in the starting line up, but still on the team

  24. Thank you for an early “Thanksgiving” article. I too enjoyed a picturesque snowfall with a burning bush (and some yellow leaves still on the trees) outside the window. Lovely.

    And to answer the question asked “How many different lives have you had? How many lives were broken, with the beginning of some new life sprouting from the broken place?”: Many. Bounced back each time, a few times taking much longer than others. You haven’t lived if you haven’t found yourself in a broken place at one time or another.

  25. Having followed your columns going way back to your days with the Economist, as I lived in the South Suburbs at the time, this column really gave me more insight into the John Kass I have followed. I have followed your words from there to the the Paper for so many years, except for a time I lived in Arizona, then returned to Illinois once again. But, I am familiar with all from this column, from Moraine Valley CC, to the Stables and the horse trails. And that has brought back so many memories, long forgotten. You are spot on, however, that we as a society, should all grow the (bleep) up. Thanks for the memories, once again.

  27. Love that red burning bush.
    There are many difficult things in life. Facing a blank sheet of paper with a pen and putting ones thoughts on it intelligently in an article is one. You do it well.

    BTW those of you on Northwest side probably heard that the legendary TONYS SUBS/DELI was robbed yesterday in early am. The owner unknowingly came in at 5am while it was being ransacked. A gun was put to his forehead while they finished the stealing. The owner was lucky, this time.
    This is a cop filled hood. WTF!? Will the dummy mayor or taxwinkle or Tmmy Evans show up and offer to help. Hell no. Bcuz they are cowards. Folks, show up and buy something and give encouragement and thanks for staying open. Not only great food but the owners are a family run deli for 48 years. They don’t deserve this treatment by local scum.
    In old days when I was a kid, the cops would find these guys and turn over to victims family or the local hood patrol.
    No muss, no fuss. Justice would be served QUICKLY. No long court dates, trial or jail. The vermin would be removed. “I’m just sayin, you know’

    1. Thanks Tom for a fresh helping of “sourdough” to an otherwise Sunday morning lovely read and comments. As my dearly departed friend Terry “Smoothie: Ryan used to preach, “Be Nice.”

    2. Doc, cancel culture is real on the right and on the JKN commentary section. It was a nice piece about winter and the beauty around us, particularly in NW IN, which is also a nice place, but if you think Kass wouldn’t rather be somewhere on the North Side of Chicago, you’re nuts.

      I’m glad the owner of Tony’s didn’t get killed. He will go on and we will support his business. I think people are catching on. They realize these two parties are indeed two cheeks of the same backside and a little common sense may prevail. We need more real people like Marjorie Taylor Greene and Thomas Massie to run for office. I respect Ro Khanna for taking up the Epstein cause too as many Democrats will be implicated as well if Bondi and Kashmiri haven’t scrubbed them yet.

  28. Morning John;

    I too took horsebacking riding classes at MVCC. Three semesters at .5 credits each! Joined the riding club too. That was ’76 to ’79.

    Keep it up John, you are the best!

  30. John et al. Happy Sunday. A lovely column to reflect. In our generation many had careers in one field and one employer. Me, I’ve had three although oddly intertwined. Corp employee, health professional and now teaching the next generation in my field while still touching on my first job. Life happens and for me luckily when one door started to close another opened.

    We now can appreciate the beauty of the red maple in the snow and the change of the seasons. Peace and yet now facing our fourth quarter — the bright side it is a privilege not afforded many of our peers.

    I started reading the Trib seriously in junior high. First the funny pages then graduating to the front and second section. Financials never intrigued me. I remember Dave Condon’s “in the wake of the news” Mike Royko and of course your column -that coveted spot on page two. When you got pushed back to the editorial page it was a seismic shift. Your time with the paper was limited.

    BTW When I was riding the L to work I definitely was a Trib guy. My recollection of the SunTimes was that it fit the desktop of a city or county desk jockey perfectly.
    THANKS

  31. Beautiful story.
    Moraine Valley Community College is a great school, a hidden treasure!
    For years I saw people riding horses in the woods nearby.

    Getting older moves us away from doing things – doing things our way.
    We can still do many of those activities but not in the same stride.
    You still know how to hunt and fish and my hope is that you and your sons go
    hunting and/or fishing together – but on a smaller scale.

    Being a Senior we enter a different time space to look back and reflect,
    to gaze outside the windows of life as seasons change.
    To understand and to forgive, and, to give thanks for all the graces we have been given.

    Happy Thanksgiving to you and your Family, John!

  33. Thanks John, for keeping on with your craft. Those words are a treasure for others in later years, losing some things but grateful for what is left. Enjoyed you in “the paper” for years, the only reason I kept getting it towards the end.

  35. Funny you should be writing about the different lives we live as we grow older, as I was just thinking about the same thing. Although there are many things we can no longer do, we are fortunate for what we are able to do, like reading a great bit of writing from someone who still always does his Greek ancestors proud.

    I’ve lost some good Friends in the past couple of months- good men whom it was my privilege to know, and it makes me focus on the good things going on in my life. Two great kids, five wonderful grandkids, great Family. I’m as fortunate as you, Mr. Kass, thanks for reminding me of that.

  36. John, I thought about you and Betty early last week, when one of my sisters in Chicago said there was a light dusting of snow in her southwest suburb, but that indiana would get lake effect snow. I miss those quiet, snowy days. Perfect for staring out the windows or watching an old movie on TV. Even snowblowing my parents driveway. One year, I wore my full-length mink coat to do the job. My dad got quite a kick out of it. He said something to the effect that probably no one else in the neighborhood was that fancy at snow removal. Thought of that this morning after reading your column and it made my heart happy.

  37. I like many have had to grow the blank up. Yes it’s hard to know I can no longer do the things I once did.
    Here’s the thing I hang onto. I’m so blessed I got all the things I did. Nothing nor anyone can take those from me. Some days I just sit and think and smile.
    I loved this article. I have friends who have horses. When I’d visit I’d grab a cup of coffee and watch them run up when they see me for those morning pets.
    Thank you for reminding me how simple and beautiful life can be.

  38. Hi John,

    I was Dx with MS in 2003

    Had to stop working at the end of 2014 at age 47

    I relate very much to what you were saying in this article, and it’s true life is very different when you can’t do some of the things you used to be able to do, driving being one of those things for sure

    I’ve learned to focus on the things that I have and the things that I get joy from, which are definitely more people focused than back when I was very, very busy. I don’t focus on what I don’t have and what I can’t control

    Driving a scooter in my house is definitely not as fun as being out on the open road, but it gets me around and helps me do the things I wanna do

    My mind is still great, which is so fortunate, God has blessed me as well.

    But you are still driving my friend, through your words you take all of us to places that we would not have been able to go, and they give us so much Enjoyment and Enrichment!!

    God bless and keep going, your words mean more to us than you will ever know.

    Tim

    PS Winter is coming…..I can still see your lawn chair covered with snow

  39. That is a great column, John. As a horse owner, I enjoyed your reminiscing about your earlier days in the stable or on a trail with the horses. Yes, having horses as a hobby is expensive. We’re retired and were fortunate enough to save a large enough nest egg during our working years to keep our horses rather than sell or dispose of them. They keep us busy in retirement, and that contributes to a wonderful lifestyle. It may sound strange, but I’d rather be in the stable cleaning it up than sitting in a condo wondering what to watch on TV.

  41. Yianni,
    I, too, am at that point of my life where I have to give up riding that horse as well. But the horse I road for years was sailing, racing, and captaining boats for years. My latest MRI showed a curving spine, deteriorating discs, and arthritic spine and pelvis, which translated into major back pain. One steroid shot and PT later, has helped a great deal, but my doctor insisted I take up a hobby that has less negative impact on my bones! Now my shoulders are giving me fits, and I expect to perhaps replace a joint or two. Growing old is definitely not for sissies – but then, we’re still kicking! As we say “vasta kala!”

  42. A heartwarming column. Thank you. I have only ridden horses once or twice myself, but I have long supported my friend’s and her children’s many enjoyable rides. Horses are another of God’s great gifts, and you beautifully articulated their soulful connection to us humans.

  43. I know what it’s like to no longer be able to do what once was routine. I used to fish the Atlantic several times a week, however an old service related neck injury has returned and made getting on and off of my boat a scary proposition. The boat will shortly go up for sale

  44. Great inspiring column John K, the Circle of Life. We are the same age, and in the twilight of our lives with time to reflect. How many to we know that have never had the chance to go as far as we have. The family, the career and reflections are a sign of a blessed life.

    I remember when you were very ill, praying for you and your family. Been with you since the Daily Calumet. God answered my and your readership prayers.

    You’re still here, God gave you, your family and your reader family another chance. You might not be able to hunt, fish or ride a pony but you are still with us, providing sanity in this screwed up society.

    Thru your illness remember how you turned us to other great contributors to your columns.

    Embrace the physical limitations my friend, I’m glad to have you thru the columns and podcasts.

  46. I escaped Chicago and moved to a very nice suburb of Houston seven years ago. It’s about 85 degrees out here, sunny. Just took the pups out for a walk. Won’t slip on the ice out here, left the snow blower at my mom’s back there. Wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the land of eternal sunshine. Hard to be in a bad mood walking around such beautiful weather. Sometimes I do miss the nice, cloudy overcast days with that chill that gets inside of your bones. Leaves on the ground damp from the fall moisture. Bundled up walking my dog. Your article, John brings it all back. Thanks and have a great day.

  47. John—what a beautiful walk down memory lane. You are right. Life changes and we change. And not matter what you cannot do anymore—I am so thankful for the writing you can do, and do do so well. Thanks for the memories.

  48. Good column John. We need to be reminded once in awhile of those blessings we’ve received and still enjoy. Thank you. One benefit of not driving, you don’t have to put up with some of the jacka##&s on the road. Happy Thanksgiving

  49. John,
    I too took riding lessons, but in my 40’s in Palos/Hickory Hills stable. One year on a vacation, with my then husband and my son, in the Rockies, the guide asked if anyone had riding experience and I raised my hand. He then put me in the lead and then a few minutes later, my horse tried to scape me off on a tree! True story!
    Enjoyed your reminiscing!

  51. “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”
    ― Washington Irving

  52. I loved reading this, John. I never rode a horse, but I miss the snow. You describe it, and I can see it vividly, almost feeling the damp, fragrant chill of a Lake effect snow. We don’t get it in South Florida-we migrated during the Pritzker Purge to care for family. When life is too busy to read your column that day, I save it…like a precious gift waiting to be unwrapped. Today I read a few, including this beautiful one. I am so grateful for your words, blessed by your humility, and this walk down memory lane is so real, it’s like I lived it. Your giftedness as a writer is, frankly, unsurpassed.

    Your discussions of driving (or not) resonate as a 66-year-old daughter of two parents I’m still blessed to have with me. They’re 91 and 92. My dad desperately wants to drive again. I get them where they need to be, but he misses it terribly. Makes me sad sometimes that I cannot give him back something that he wants so much. Your writing helps me understand it’s nothing unique to us…it seems ingrained in our breaking free to independence that makes it hard to accept a chauffeur as a treat or to recall that people lived for years before cars were invented. They rode horses. In the snow, even. I’m glad you are writing. I treasure every word.

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