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Remembering Ordell Fudge: That day, a knight in shining armor For the teen riding horseback on Sparksville Road that day, Ordell Fudge was the friendly man who waved from his porch. His actions on the day he saw her pass and only a riderless horse return are now etched deeply in her memories. About: Obituary: Ordell Fudge By Kelly Crawhorn Here it is, 11:00 at night, and I am sitting at my computer desk, chin in my hands, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. I've been this way for the last ten minutes. After finishing some last minute homework for an online course, I just happened to click on CM before I headed to bed. This was the first I heard of Mr. Ordell Fudge passing away. I feel saddened and regretful. I saw a picture of Mr. Fudge on CM some while back. Not long after, I passed his house as I do quite often on the way to my parents' house. All of a sudden, I took a trip down memory lane. From that time forth, I was writing a memory in my head that I wanted to type up and send to CM. For this reason and that, I never got around to it. I regret that. So I have committed to sitting here at the computer and not going to bed until I put into writing the best memory I have of Mr. Fudge. Mr. Fudge was one of those "good people" Although the world seems to be getting worse and worse every day, there are still those that I call "good people." Mr. Fudge was one of those "good people." Here is just one story to illustrate this. Although it was at least thirteen years ago, I can see the events of that day in my head as clearly as if it were yesterday. Summers during those teenage years when one lives in rural Kentucky can be quite boring. From the time that I was about 13 years old, I filled those summers with horseback riding. Countless times, I would pass Mr. Fudge's house. As often as not, he and his wife would be sitting in their front yard, just watching the traffic. They would always wave and holler howdy at me as I rode past. Wasn't riding trusty old Sundance that day On this particular afternoon, I decided to mount a different horse rather than trusty old Sundance. This horse was green broke and it was my job to ride her often. After much twitching, jerking, and hopping around, I finally got her saddled. She sidestepped and hopped a bit as I mounted, but I managed to get myself into the saddle and head out. As I clip-clopped my way up Sparksville-Fairplay Road, Mr. Fudge was sitting out in a chair in his front yard as he was so many of the times that I rode by. We each gave our usual wave and nod as I sped on past. After climbing the steep, curvy hill right past his house and just getting out of his sight, I realized that my saddle was loose. I directed this feisty little mare into the field beside the road and hopped off. I tightened the saddle as best I could amid more sidestepping, crow hopping, and general dancing around. That part was easy. Remounting was not so much. Mare did one thing she knew to do: Go home Each time I stuck my boot in the stirrup, this little fireball would try to run out from under me. I would hold back on the reigns in an attempt to get her to be still and try again. This just resulted in her turning in circles as fast as she could go and me hopping in circles on one foot, the other in the stirrup, trying to throw myself up in the saddle. After repeating this scenario a couple of times, she began to really get agitated, as did I. Finally, I gave one giant lunge and landed in the saddle, only to be thrown right back out with a big buck and a leap that left my rump on the ground. Unfortunately, the bridle was also out of my hands. So this little mare did the one thing she knew to do. She ran back in the direction from which she came - home. From Mr. Fudge's perspective, things must have looked pretty bleak. Minutes before, he had seen me ride by all smiles and waves. Now, all he saw was a riderless horse flying past his house with stirrups a' flappin'. By this time, I had dusted myself off and started back down the hill. Just as I was coming around the curve, I heard gravel flying and tires screeching. Mr. Fudge had jumped into that big old gray car, flung it into reverse, and was squealing tires up that hill. I am quite certain that is the most recklessly I have ever seen him drive. He didn't have far to go to see me footing it over the hill. He told me to climb in and drove me back home talking the whole way about how scared he was that I had been hurt. There were tears in Mr. Fudge's eyes as he retold the story Some time later, Mr. Fudge saw my dad and was repeating the story to him. Dad told me that there were tears in his eyes when he told how scared he was to see that horse come flying back without me on its back. He and I both felt touched that he had that much concern. Mr. Fudge was "good people." Although I didn't stop and have long conversations with him in those days of horseback riding, he was looking out for me. He thought enough of me to actually have great fear that I may have been hurt. Neighbors like these that look out for each other are the kind that I wish each and every person in this world could have. The ride to my parents house will never be the same This world is a little lonelier now. I know that the ride to my parents' house will never be the same. I will look under that big old shade tree in his yard each and every time I pass and see him kicked back, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed, smiling and waving as I ride past.I will always picture that car squealing tires up the hill coming to rescue me. That day, Mr. Fudge really was my knight in shining armor! This story was posted on 2009-10-05 04:38:39
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