For some, Hope Rides on the backs of horses.

October 23, 2011 at 3:40PM
Noah Reedy spends his Saturdays working with horses in Stacy, Minn., as part of the Hope Rides non-profit youth mentorship group.
Noah Reedy spends his Saturdays working with horses in Stacy, Minn., as part of the Hope Rides non-profit youth mentorship group. (Dml -/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

Noah Reedy strokes the horse's neck and whispers something in his ear. The big animal seems to chuckle at the private joke, tossing his head in the air before allowing Reedy to lead him back to the stable.

It's late on a Saturday afternoon inside a dirt arena in a horse barn in rural Stacy, 40 miles up Interstate 35 north of the Twin Cities. Reedy is out here almost every Saturday, working with horses and kids through a nonprofit mentoring group called Hope Rides. The organization has served 175 kids since it started five years ago, driven by a simple mission that myriad life lessons can be learned working with horses.

"This gives Noah an opportunity to do what he loves," says LaVonne Reedy, 79, Noah's mom. Her husband, Hank Reedy, nods and smiles nearby.

The Reedys have once again driven Noah on the 10-mile trek from their hobby farm that backs up to the Sunrise River in North Branch. The couple met at a St. Paul photo finishing lab Hank's dad ran in the 1950s. A lunch date led to a 58-year marriage and a family that grew to include seven biological kids, five adopted children and three Cambodian boys who joined them for five years. Then there were the dozen foster kids, some who stayed a week, others a month or more. The Reedys now boast 51 grandchildren and 18 great-grandkids.

In 1983, when a social worker called to say a Filipino orphan born without a full skull was coming to Minnesota for a series of surgeries, at first Hank said, "No." A few minutes later, they called back and, before they knew it, Imelda Marcos and Sen. Rudy Boschwitz cut through red tape and Noah became their 15th and last child.

"Originally, his name was Edgar," Hank says. When a rainbow appeared after storm clouds cleared on his arrival day, a sister suggested they name him Noah.

Surgeons told the Reedys his chances of a long life were slim and Noah would likely be severely disabled. They removed three ribs to stabilize the plate they inserted to serve as his skull.

"Check out my scar," Noah says, yanking up his shirt. Not only has he overcome huge odds, Noah has flourished. He's an accomplished athlete, playing hockey, basketball and running track with the Special Olympics. "You should see him tap dance," LaVonne says.

His equestrian team in Stillwater is Noah's favorite.

"I just like horses," he says. "I find it easy to relate to them for some reason. We just get each other."

Across a red metal corral fence, Vollie Heitkamp, 36, sits on bleachers and watches Noah. A former analyst with Kimberly-Clark Corp. in downtown Minneapolis, Heitkamp said she felt a "nudge to better utilize my gifts." In 2006, she launched Hope Rides (www.hoperides.org), which relies on donations to pay its $6,000 monthly expenses at private horse farms it uses in Stacy and near Watertown.

Noah stopped by her table at the Minnesota Horse Expo a few years ago.

"He was quietly standing off to the side and I asked if he had any questions," she says. "The rest is history."

CURT BROWN

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