BB&G, Part 3 & Self-Critique, a la George

Bet you thought I was done talking about B. Barns, but nope, there are still more tales relating to this establishment! (

I distinctly recall the 4-H meeting when some of the kids' parents joined us because Trainer had a special announcement to make. I was very worried because I think I had heard she was losing her lease on the property. But no, she was much excited, bubbling over with big talk. A sort of blueprint document was spread out, and little 3-D paper buildings plunked down: we were looking at plans for the new, improved BB Luxury Equestrian Estates development! Huh?? Our Club President's dad was a developer, I knew that much (they had two horses at the barn) and apparently he was the one behind this grand idea. There would be a huge, round indoor arena, several barns, improved pastures, and a number of homes.

I didn't quite know what to make of this. I didn't think Trainer had a lot of money, so I didn't know how it was all going to work, but I sure hoped that it would because I really loved my barn life at BB&G, the 4-H Club, and "my" lovely girl American Mare. Trainer was an excellent instructor and I learned a ton about riding and horse care from her. She was generous to a fault, never even charging me a fee to ride her horses at shows or for her time at them; I showed for the cost of entry fees and trailering. She genuinely loved horses, loved teaching and was a huge advocate of 4-H. For those qualities alone I would remember her fondly.

Long story short, sadly, the Luxury Equestrian Estates never were built (although the property today, is, in fact, covered in large homes). I assume Trainer had a falling-out with President's Dad, and/or he couldn't get financing. Trainer, kids and horses were forced to relocate, and the whole establishment picked up sticks and moved to a new facility about 15 minutes away. It was a far cry from the old one, unfortunately. Not much turnout, one ring, and a barn. The whole thing was surrounded by busy roads.

I continued taking lessons, doing 4-H and showing. We didn't just go to 4-H shows, by the way; we went to another series of local unrated affairs as well. These were held at a place called Freedom Farms. I liked the fancy ribbons they gave out there, and it was an appropriate level of competition for me.

I actually have one picture from a 2'6" jumping class taken when I was around 15, the only actual real photographer's photo I've ever gotten of me at a show. But I refuse to share it on the grounds that you would instantly lose all respect for me - yes, it's really THAT bad. :-) I would like to think it was just "a moment in time," but I have a distinct feeling that any jumping photo of me ever taken is going to have my toes out at 90 degree angles... and probably a lot of other faults. (I know I have mentioned the toe thing before. Here's the deal: I can sit on the floor, put the soles of my feet together, and lean forward until my head touches my feet with my knees all the way on the floor. Now those are some funky hip joints! So I walk/stand very duck-footed and have always struggled to turn my toes in while riding. Nowadays nobody seems to care much but back then... whooo. Not good.)

Every time I look at this picture (that no, I'm still not going to show you) I crack myself up imagining what George Morris would have to say if I submitted it to Jumping Clinic. After he had wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, he'd write something like this:

"This rider needs to work on tightening her leg. Her heel is down, but I can see daylight between her knee and the saddle. I have never seen a toe turned out that far - it is well beyond the maximum 45-degree angle. Returning to small crossrails and no-stirrup work would help strengthen the leg.

The rider is not so much as jumping ahead, as simply standing in the stirrups. Her hip angle is far too open and she has not let the thrust of the horse close it. Her short release is okay, but one hand is far higher than the other. Her eyes are up and she is looking for the next jump.

This horse is merely stepping over this little jump and has a bored expression. I cannot evaluate her form accurately with this small fence, but I would like to see her knees more even. The mare needs some groceries and she should be braided and her hooves polished, even for a small schooling show. She needs a better-fitting browband as well.

Whomever thought it was a good idea to attire a teenage girl in a loud, white/blue/black/red plaid coat, jodphurs with garters and paddock boots should be taken behind the barn and shot. This outfit is not appropriate for her age and looks ridiculous. Also, the excess stirrup leather needs trimming." 

I was riding the chestnut OTTB mare who was the other main lesson horse at BB&G.  She was a stereotypical opinionated redhead and we really didn't get along all that well (Patty Flower mostly rode her, in fact). I fail to remember her name, which tells you something. At any rate, she was a hard keeper and didn't have a lot of bloom to her coat. She could jump 3'6," though, and her front end sharpened up over bigger fences.

As far as my hideous outfit, it's called "I borrowed the jacket from Trainer and therefore the price was right." Picture something like the above, except with a narrow red thread, tailored in luxurious 100% polyester double knit. You could wad it up into a ball and stuff it into your backpack, and upon extraction it would instantly spring back into coat-dom. We knew I needed tall boots, but having had no luck thus far finding any off the rack (and my long-suffering mother sensibly refusing to get customs), I was consigned to paddock boots and jodphurs even though I know now I was definitely too old for them. I remember thinking the paddock boots, which had punched toe caps, were really pretty spiffy.

Regarding the standing in the stirrups - I have no idea why this was going on. I have a few snapshots taken of me jumping in a lesson (at night, in a dusty indoor, so not exactly the best quality) and I'm not doing it in those, and certainly my instructors have never mentioned it, so I think it was a function of nerves/a flat-jumping horse/what have you. I may have weirdly-assembled hips, but they do bend! :-)

Towards the end of my career at BB, I started riding a new school horse, a fugly-but-cute bay gelding named Little Brown Jug. Mare was pretty much retired; she'd developed a large and painful sarcoma or melanoma under her tail, and Trainer was trying to get another foal from her (she'd had one in the past, a colt whom T kept and stood as a H/J stallion). Jug was a TB, but had a full-sized horse head on a pony body. The story I got was he had been starved as youngster and his growth was stunted. We got along very well, fortunately.

I have a distinct memory of my last class at my last show ever as a junior rider. It was a 4-H show and Jug and I were waiting for our turn on the outside course. The sky was fast-darkening with an approaching storm. To the sound of rumbles of thunder we made our way around the jumps; Jug was a good jumper but being so small, he made 3'6" feel like a lot taller. Up and over we flew (with me being jumped loose over a couple of fences that had to have been at least 3'9") and as we finished I remember thinking, "Well, this is it. Who knows when I'll ever show a horse again?"

It took twenty years.

(Story coming!)

BB&G, Part 2

It was a cold winter's night when I happened to look out the window of my trainer/4-H leader's home and saw a scene much like this one. Yes, I really was the one who first saw it and no, it wasn't the grotty home I was standing in that went up in flames (though with the general level of care lavished on the place, it would have surprised no one). It was the other, older and currently unlived-in house on the farm that was blazing away. This was located about a quarter mile away down the lane which is why nobody had noticed until then.

I had never seen a house on fire and I was shocked. I think I stuttered and pointed and then finally got out the words, "The house is on fire!" followed by, "NO, NOT THIS ONE!" A dash for the door did ensue amongst my fellow 4-Hers, but it was to see the sights, fortunately not because they thought themselves in imminent danger. Any plans to discuss the care and feeding of the senior horse (or whatever topic we had been assigned) were instantly dismissed, of course, and the rest of the evening was spent watching the police, firetrucks and firefighters deal with the "disaster." The truth was, nobody really cared; local teenagers had been using the place as a party joint and it was just as well that someone's (possibly) careless cigarette had burned it down. The house was quickly reduced to ashes and the general attitude was, "Good riddance."

The house fire was but one of many memorable moments during my 4-H career. Here are some others which didn't involve property destruction:

Horse Bowl

I think I mentioned that I joined our brand-new Horse Bowl team right away. Horse Bowl, for those who are unfamiliar, has nothing to do with this; no, it's a game- show type of event with teams competing to answer equine-related questions quickly and accurately. You ring in and if you answer correctly score points; points are also subtracted for wrong answers, so you have to feel confident before hitting your button. My good memorization skills and love of minutiae served me well in this endeavor. Team members were assigned areas of specialization, though, and unfortunately I was given the dry and uninspiring topic of "Nutrition." I would have been much happier with "Anatomy," "Lameness," "Tack," or pretty much anything else but that's what I got. So I studied my little heart out learning things like the ten essential amino acids (I still know most of them...) correct Ca:Ph ratios, and ration-balancing, which I particularly hated because it involved math.

Our team did well enough one year to make it to the State championship. We didn't win but I acquired the nice little trophy that stands on my Horsey Shelf. Being in Horse Bowl was a great experience and I recommend it to any young equestrian. (Still going strong in NJ - here's the website)

Presentations

Every year a 4-Her participating in Horse Project (and I would imagine other projects, too) had to prepare a report including visual aids to be presented first to the club. It could be on any horse-related topic you chose, and you were judged individually, not against anyone else. I think we received evaluations ranging from "Poor" to "Superior." If you did well enough you could advance beyond club level. Luckily, I've never had much of a problem with public speaking but some kids had a terrible time.

I remember two of the presentations I did in particular. One was about equine teeth - I still recall a lot of what I learned - and the other was on Lipizzan horses. That one was particularly fun because I had a slide show from when I went to Vienna to see them at the Spanish Riding School. This presentation was a huge hit. I received a Superior score in the club, a Superior score at the County Finals, and earned myself a trip to the State Finals, where I also received a Superior (yes, I was very nervous there!). I always wonder if anyone else in NJ 4-H ever had photos of the real Lipizzaners as part of their presentation? Here's the trophy I was awarded at State:

They were very smart to make these out of Armetale - no polishing needed! 

Horse Shows

I have to say my favorite aspect of being a part of 4-H was - the horse shows! Our shows were held at our lovely county fairgrounds, where there were at least two standard rings and an "outside" hunter course, on the grass. I really didn't know what to expect the first time I went to a 4-H show but I quickly learned. Some people were very serious competitors, had nice horses, and were pretty cutthroat. Others were content just to be there with their little backyard ponies and have a good time. I guess I fell somewhere in the middle: I liked to win, and I got to ride some pretty good horses, but I always tried to be complimentary to others and help out when I could. 

Well, MOST of the time. There were two people in particular who I remember vividly from 4-H showing, Navajo Saddle Blanket Girl, and Sandra J., who I very happily could have strangled on numerous occasions. Sandra J. and I had History behind us. Her mother had been my Brownie Girl Scout leader and a nastier woman has never lived (even my mom agreed). She played favorites with her daughter all the time, which drove me bonkers, and Sandra herself was a spoiled rotten brat. Then, to my everlasting dismay, the family acquired two horses for their little darling (actually a horse and a pony) that they kept in their backyard right down the street from me. I wrote about this here. If I didn't despise Sandra already this definitely did the trick.

Sandra belonged to another 4-H club and was always at the shows. 4-H classes were separated by age, not ability, so we would wind up in the same ring a lot. Sometimes she would beat me, and sometimes I would beat her. I'm afraid I was rather pleased when the latter happened. In particular, I recall a certain Sr. Equitation on the Flat class.... 

It was the last show of the season and I was riding a bay OTTB mare called "Mom's Apple Pie," "Mom" for short. This girl belonged to Trainer's Daughter and was her Big Eq/Maclay horse. Mom sure had the ability for 3'6" but she was HOT, hot, hot. (Trainer's Daughter did okay on her but they never made it to the Garden) To ride her, using TD's Prix de Nations saddle, no less, was a real treat and I was determined not to screw up. Mom was behaving, I'd managed to force my toes in every time I passed the judge, and things were going fine - until we were asked for the right-lead canter. I can remember exactly what happened. I cued her for the canter depart and Mom went UP, not forward. I asked again - same result. Finally, on our third try, I got her settled enough and away we went (thank God on the correct lead). Unfortunately, the judge had seen the whole thing. I knew any chance for a ribbon was gone.

So imagine my utter shock when I not only placed in the class, I was awarded the BLUE RIBBON.    I burst into tears and flung my arms around Mom's neck. This was a good-sized class, by the way, with at least 15 riders (prob. more). When I was leaving the ring I spied Trainer, who was laughing and shaking her head. She came to meet me at the out gate and said, "All I can say is I guess the judge liked the way you handled that blowup, because she was definitely looking RIGHT at you when it happened." 

So there, finally, is the story of the old blue ribbon hanging in my BR. It's special because it represents the pinnacle of my junior equitation career, and because I beat Sandra J. to earn it. :-)

The top of the rosette reads "MC 4-H," for Monmouth County 4-H. 

Navajo Saddle Blanket Girl rode a horse that was badly groomed, and badly in need of about 100 lbs. She had a permanent scowl on her face and never talked to anybody. She used her crop too much, too. She actually won a lot of ribbons but I was not alone in my disapproval of her appearance and methods. One day we were doing a class on the outside course. 4-H had a rule that if you were jumping, you had to have the chin strap on your hard hat down. All we had then was the little elastic bands, but they had to be under your chin. This class had around 10 or 12 people in it, and one by one, everyone had issues on course: refusals, run-outs, even a couple falls. It was just a mess. Amazingly, I managed to get around okay (I don't remember what horse I was riding) and the only other one who did was NSBG. Guess what?? She forgot to put down her chin strap! I was awarded first place, solely because of that. Ooooooh, she was mad! I think she would have liked to bash me a good one with her crop, never mind her poor horse.

Our goal for the county season, which consisted of three or four shows, was to qualify to show at State during the NJ State Fair. I actually did qualify two years, in at least two classes (Hunter Pleasure for sure, I think Sr. Equitation on the Flat, and some over-fences class as well) - but wasn't able to attend the State shows due to timing and cost. It's okay, I still feel lucky that I was able to participate in 4-H at all!

P.S. Something possessed me to try Googling the name of my 4-H club and to my astonishment, I found a digitalized newspaper article from Nov. 18, 1980 that mentions the club. The officers are listed and I was the Secretary! I have ZERO recollection of that so it's pretty funny...

BB&G, Part 1

This will be one of my "writing my memories down because I want to" posts... hope it's somewhat entertaining!

***

Anyone who's been around this blog for a while knows that I started out riding H/J at Tricorne Farm in Holmdel, NJ when I was but a wee tyke (5). I stayed there until I was 12 years old, but then things weren't going so well (didn't care for the new trainer) and it seemed like time to make a switch. So where did I go?

Better Barns and Gardens.

Nope, I'm not making that up! The giggle-worthy name was cooked up by the trainer/person in charge and the "silent partner" actual barn owner. The barn was a single pole-style main structure with about 14 stalls and a tackroom, and the "garden" was the flower beds on either side of the main door. The rest of the facility consisted of a nice-sized outdoor ring, a small stone building that was optimistically called the "office," a hay/shavings storage shed, two huge pastures, and two homes - one extremely old and uninhabited and the other a farm house, probably built in the 30s and occupied by the trainer and her three children. The buildings were located at the end of a long dirt lane that ran alongside the main pasture.

The barn had just opened and my mother's good friend's daughter was taking lessons there, so on the strength of their recommendation over I went. I was a bit intimidated by the trainer lady at first; she was a bit older than my mom, and very forthright with her opinions. Keep in mind that my self-esteem was practically non-existent at that age (middle school = HELL, no?).  Fortunately, she mixed compliments in with her criticism so I decided I could live with her training style.

On the other hand, Trainer's kids absolutely reveled in giving me a hard time. A sensitive, insecure, straight-A student with braces and a flat chest? Oy. Might as well have painted a bulls-eye on me. There were a son and a daughter older than me, and a daughter who was a year younger. All three of them treated me like I was the dorkiest, most socially-unacceptable person they had ever met. It didn't help one bit that the son was pretty cute so of course I developed a mad crush on him... or that he was dating Mother's Friend's Daughter (who, by the way, was none other than the exact same person who I was sent with to Little Hope Ranch. Gaaah.)

Enough about my social angst. What about the horses and the riding? THAT part of BB was really good. There weren't a lot of horses, but the ones I rode the most were great. Photos are very sadly lacking from this riding era, so unfortunately the only one I can find to share is this crummy Polaroid I took out in the big pasture:

The white horse is American Mare, my main mount. I think she was about 15 when I started riding her, and 15.1hh. She was a registered Paint, as she had one dinner plate-sized splotch of chestnut hair on her flank, and chestnut cheeks, and those just barely qualified her as such. She was a very good show horse and before I met her had earned several ROMs from APHA.

Mare was a very well-trained gal and taught me a lot. She was a great "next step" type of horse for my riding ability. Among many things, I learned what an extended trot felt like and how to ask for it, how to do a turn on the forehand, how to jump bareback (she was extremely comfy) and how to get a white horse clean. Incidentally, KEEPING her clean was another matter: I'd spend hours shampooing and scrubbing the day before a show, tuck her in a well-bedded stall for the night wearing a sheet, and then arrive at 5:00 AM to find she'd managed to lie down in a poo pile or two and accumulate lovely stains. Baby powder was my friend!

Mare also pulled like a freight train when she got excited (at least when I was riding her - she went like a dream for Trainer's Daughters), so another thing I learned was how to use a Pelham. Even then, our jumping rounds, especially on an outside course like we had "back in the day," were less than things of beauty. Just picture me pelting around a large grass field at warp speed, screeching to a halt in time to pop over the rustic jumps. (It probably wasn't quite that bad but I do remember being scared a lot of the time.)

The best part of riding Mare, and indeed, riding at BB, was that my trainer turned out to be a very enthusiastic proponent of 4-H. I'd had zero exposure to the program before this and was excited to find out I could be part of a club despite the fact that I didn't own a horse. Our new club met twice a month at Trainer's house and I was soon plugging away on my Horse Project. We also formed  a Horse Bowl team and I eagerly joined that as well.  (More about 4-H experiences in next post)

My mom was willing to leave me at BB for long stretches, so I really became a barn rat at this place. All kinds of things went on there, good and bad, as I'm sure you can imagine. Some of my favorite memories (most of which my mom knew nothing about*):

- Taking the dare on touching the hot wire on the pasture fence. What I didn't notice was my challenger, who touched the wire to demonstrate that it didn't hurt, used the BACK of his hand. I put my palm on it and got "stuck" for about five seconds, which didn't feel too good.
- Jumping on bareback and riding the horses in from the pasture with nothing but a halter and lead shank. Big fun to someone in a lesson program!
- Learning how to braid manes and tails and getting good enough at the former to charge others $$.
- My darling dad staying up all night to take me to the barn at 4:30 AM for shows.
- Riding in the horse van on the way to shows (a real "horse box" type like nobody uses in the US anymore) between horses and getting green sneezy-snot in my hair.
- Being exhausted, filthy and sweaty after being at the barn on a really hot day and walking allllll the way down the lane to meet my mom, then sneaking in to cool off in the neighbor's pool. I'm sure they wondered about all the horse hair in the filter!
- The barn lane itself. Driving down this became quite an exercise in auto preservation over the years, as enormous car-swallowing, axle-banging holes and ruts developed (in the summer, muddy swimming pools, and in the winter, frozen mini-ponds) and the BO never paid to have it graded. I actually took perverse pride in my ability to navigate it as you had to be a "regular" to know the way. I'd be practically standing up in the station wagon, hollering, "Go right! Now left! MORE left!" at my poor mom as we tried to wend our way through a 1/2 mile of torture.
- Holing up in the "office" and spending hours and hours happily reading back issues of Paint horse magazines, looking for mention of horses I knew (especially Mare).
- Scrubbing "my" white horse until my fingers were raw, including using water and bleach with a Brillo pad to get her pink hooves clean.
- Learning how to use horse clippers and do fetlocks, bridle paths and whiskers.
- Riding through the pain of hideous, raw shin rubs and the joy of getting my first pair of real leather tall boots, which finally eliminated them.

* (And never will, I guess, because she sure doesn't read this blog!)

So between the good riding, hanging around the barn, the 4-H activities and dealing with Trainer's lovely (koff, koff) kids, I was getting quite an education.

The most amazing thing was the condition of Trainer's house. Now, my own house was never what you'd call immaculate. My mom had better things to do then clean all day. But this place... whoa. Cat hair, dog hair, and just plain old dirt all accumulated in vast abundance along with myriad flotsam and jetsam related to horses and riding. Broken halters draped on the lampshade? Check. Hairy, muddy brushes? Check. Random animal-chewed leather items, whip handles, dirty polo wraps, rusty bits, discarded horse shoes, faded ribbons, dog-eared magazines, stained saddle pads, and tarnished and bent trophies? Check. You name it, it was flung around that house. I would literally have to clear a space to sit down, and the whole place stank of cat pee to boot. Yes, my mother did know about all this but she told me later she just closed her mind and told me to shower when I got home. :-)

And then there was the night when the house caught on fire during a 4-H meeting...

* TO BE CONTINUED! *

My Equestrian Life, On Display

I have observed that most people with decorator shelves in their homes fill them with a variety of plants (real or fake), or the occasional objet d'art. We have a couple in our house. The one over the front door does hold a plant, but it also has a number of old-to-extremely-old family items: an antique drum, a violin, a ukelele that belonged to my grandfather, a battered bugle, a trunk plastered with travel stickers, a couple of suitcases and my dad's camera that he got in 1958. So, lots of cool stuff with great memories attached.

For the one in my bedroom, I immediately envisioned an area where I could display things pertaining to my life with horses (fortunately Hubby was okay with this plan). I started with my old saddle, which you saw in the last post, and have added many other items that are significant to me. Most people who have seen this collection don't "get" it; I imagine it just looks like a bunch of junk. I am hoping that you, dear readers, will appreciate these things a tiny bit more.

So, without further ado, here is the north end:

On the far left you will notice some little Palomino horse models. This mare and foal pair are china, and at one time were really beautiful. Unfortunately, they were played with a lot when I was little and suffered the consequences. The poor foal is standing precariously on three and 3/4 legs; after mending all four of his legs multiple times, I think Dad just gave up on one of them. So he's missing a fore from knee down. But it's okay, he can still stand up leaning against his momma and he's still adorable.

Then there's that weird-looking grey thing. That is a mask that I made out of papier mache when I was about 9 years old and was Grey the Horse for Halloween. My mom made a hood with a mane, and an excellent suit complete with tail to go with it. The outfit was a bit hit, although other kids liked to knock on the mask and ask if anyone was in there. My son wound up wearing this whole outfit one Halloween (and won a costume contest), so it's been through two generations now.

The rocking horse actually made an appearance on this blog some time ago, along with the Buck Breyer model, so I won't go into huge detail here. Here's a close-up again:

As far as the formerly-blue ribbon - well, that's a really special one, and has a great story attached. I promise I WILL get to that but it needs its own post!

Going back to the shelf, you've also already seen the boots on top of the Secretariat Breyer, and the lunchbox. The little trophy to the right of the lunchbox I won by making it to the State finals in 4-H Horse Bowl with my team. I loved being in 4-H and learned an awful lot through the program (you will hear more about it in the near future). Horse Bowl in particular was a lot of fun but very nerve-wracking. It didn't help that I was told I had to be the "nutrition expert," which meant memorizing a lot of facts and figures about Ca:Ph ratios, protein percentages, and the like. Math is not my strong suit. I would have been a lot happier in charge of anatomy or diseases but nope, the team needed help in nutrition so that's what I got. All's well that ended well - we didn't win State but got darn close!

The tall trophy peeking out from behind the lunchbox is actually not horse-related (I won the Grand Prize in a Science Fair) but it's the only place it fit. You know about my old Prix de Nations saddle already, but how about those ribbons? Well, I'm sorry to say the Champion is the one and only Championship ribbon I've ever won in a horse show, and the other is my first Reserve Championship, seen in this photo when I was 7 years old:

Aboard Little John, the best darn pony EVER.

Both of these were earned at Tricorne Farm horse shows. No other Reserves or Champions have been forthcoming YET (yes, it's been quite a drought given my current age), so these are proudly on display.

Someone might recognize that tall and furry horse model on the south end of the shelf. She's Penny, an American Girl horse owned by the Colonial girl in the series. Darn thing cost a bleeding fortune and while my daughter liked her a lot, she did not inherit the horse-obsessed gene from me so Penny is pretty well-preserved. Yours truly had a good time tacking her up when Daughter had friends coming over to play. :-)

Last but not least is the very odd-looking spotted item on the far right. You would never guess what it is in a million years - other than that it hopefully looks a bit like a horse - so I'll just tell you: it went on a totem pole. Huh? Well, one summer I volunteered as a leader for Daughter's Girl Scout summer day camp. The kids were small, so we adults pretty much had free rein on what we did and what our own little groups would be called. The overall theme of the camp was "Native American." So what is more Indian than Paint horses??? Hence, I named our group the Painted Ponies.

I had a lot of fun with this theme, none more so than when it was time to make a totem part for the camp pole. Each group was issued a plastic one-gallon ice cream bucket with holes cut in it as the base, and I built the head and neck out of foam rubber. The kids helped apply papier mache and paint the horse head when it dried. The totem parts were dropped on a broom handle and when they were lined up, I have to say the overall effect was pretty neat. Incidentally, ours won the prize for Best-Looking. :-)

So there you have it, one of my main horsey areas in the house. Oh yes, there are more! What can I say... my family are good sports about putting up with Mom's taste in decor.

Dream Boy!

NOTE: I apologize for the lack of posting lately. I started a new job last week and my head hurts from info overload and stress! I just today got to look at what's going on with the Derby field so I'm really behind. :-( I also have not made it back to the barn since I rode Penny, but I'm hoping to get there this weekend - that will DEFINITELY help my outlook on life, LOL!

* * *

Tell me you've ever seen such fantastically gorgeous eyes on a horse before:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=C0jaXMimY-o

Oh. My. God. I can't take my own off them! They are SO enormous, so limpid and full of expression... I do think they are darn near the prettiest horse eyes I've ever seen. He is just AMAZINGLY beautiful! Does anyone else find it incredible that someone would give him up to the KHP?

*wipes drool off chin*

Whew, I need to pull myself together. Too much equine pulchritude in one package. I'm laughing - guess he turned up in case I needed another reason to go back to the Horse Park! There is absolutely no way I'm driving to Lexington again without visiting this guy. I was at the Horse Park, of course, for the WEG and the National Horse Show, but I didn't have time to actually "do" the exhibits. I have in the past, but it's been about 10 years. As you know I had plenty of other fun adventures down in Kentucky, but next time, I'm doing the KHP tour!

It's quite a coincidence that this video came up because I was planning to write a post soon on Lipizzans. I must confess, I have always had a huge soft spot for them. It all started with this book:

Not my copy, but mine is even more "loved"-looking!

I've read this so darn many times I'm surprised the spine is still intact. The whole story is so cool: boy loves horses. Boy (Hans) lives in Vienna, cheek-to-jowl with the Spanish Riding School, and knows something is going on in there that he wants to be a part of. He trains the only horse he's got (and yes, of course I was jealous of him for having any horse), sweet Rosie the bakery carthorse, to do a little piaffe - at least with her front legs :-). Boy sees the SRS perform and notices Maestoso Borina, the star of the show, capable of multiple courbettes in a row. They eventually come together and the magic continues.

Wesley Dennis's fabulous illustrations made this book come alive for me, as I'm sure is the case for all readers (what a blessed partnership, Marguerite and Wesley!). I pored over every detail, wondering what the sawdust in the ring smelled like... how smooth the deerskin saddles were... how soft those shining white coats were... how come the riders' legs never seemed to move, despite no stirrups... what the vision of synchronized white stallions moving as fluidly as poetry actually looked like. I don't remember if the word "dressage" was mentioned (and if I go to check you know I will wind up blowing a couple hours reading the entire thing yet again), but it wouldn't have mattered, because this kid growing up in the H/J world of New Jersey had never heard of it. In fact, I thought what the Spanish Riding School did on horseback was their very own special thing - I had no idea anyone else even tried! :-)

In case you doubt that I truly was mesmerized by the world of the SRS, here's the lunch box I carried for most of elementary school. My mother made it for me, and it's covered in various horse-related items. The Lipizzans on the back are directly from the book. I don't know if Mom freehanded the illustrations, or used tracing paper, but it certainly was a unique lunch accessory and I ADORED it:

Count this among the things I would try to rescue in a fire or tornado situation. It's a bit battered (even survived the one and only time I fought back against a bully and whomped her with it - made a most satisfying "Clang!"), but I'm sure you can see why I treasure it.

So we've established that I was/am crazy about Lipizzans. The Spanish Riding School tours the USA on occasion, and there are other troupes of Lipizzaners that put on shows, but of course, the ultimate goal for any fan would be to see them in their very own palace, the Spanische Hofreidschule in Vienna, Austria. You might think this would have been an unattainable goal for a little girl growing up in Monmouth County, NJ.... but you would be wrong. Because, dear readers, I DID go to Vienna and I DID get to see the white stallions, live and in person.

How did this miraculous event come about? My mom had a dear friend who worked for the US Army as a school counselor. Judy was stationed in Bad Tolz, a base of ours in southern Germany/Bavaria (about 25 miles south of Munich). My parents decided when I was in 9th grade to ship me over there for a month - sort of a do-it-yourself exchange student arrangement. I knew Judy and thought this was splendid idea, especially when I found out I would be not that far from Vienna. I'm sure my folks gave Judy a heads-up that there was a certain thing I really HAD to do, but immediately upon arrival I imagine I started dropping hints. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, this is all great, and that is a pretty church, but when are we going to Austria..."

I am exaggerating (God knows, or Judy probably would have put me on the first plane back), and I truly did enjoy everything I got to see and do over there, but you can bet by the time we finally did make it to Vienna I was in quite a state. Vienna is a gorgeous (and clean, or at least it was in the late 70s) city and I loved everything about it. But I really knew I was in the right place when I saw the wooden inlay art framed in our hotel room: two Lipizzan horses, performing their trademark "airs above the ground." I think Judy practically had to post guard over them so they didn't find their way into my suitcase!

The great day finally arrived and I set off by myself for the Riding School (Judy had been before so stayed behind. Quite an adventure right there for a 15-year-old to be turned loose in a foreign city, and I doubt my mother knew about it!). I was only able to afford a "standing room" ticket for the performance, which meant I would be standing up behind the people lucky enough to purchase seats directly on the balcony. No matter, just being there practically elevated me another foot. I was floating around on a cloud of happiness.

The hall of the SRS is exactly as lovely as you would imagine. It's not really all that large; when the horses were doing the quadrille, there didn't seem to be room for all of them. I was situated in about the third "bay" from the far end, right side of this photo:

When the stallions entered the ring, there was an audible gasp from the audience. As for me, it's a wonder I didn't faint dead away, standing on my tiptoes to see. The Lipizzaners! The real ones! Borina's relatives! Right there in front of me! Ever have one of those "out of body" experiences, when you just can't fathom that you actually are where you are? To add to the experience, someone who'd bought a balcony edge seat in front of me (actually a gilded velvet chair) didn't show up, and the extremely kind people around me all but pushed me into it. To this day, the thought of those nice people, looking at the teenager with stars in her eyes and realizing what was going on, making room for me - it still makes me cry. I spent the entire performance hanging over the edge of the balcony, feeling like I could almost reach out and touch the horses walking, trotting, cantering and doing the "airs" below.

I may not have truly appreciated the mastery of dressage that allows these horses and riders to do what they do so brilliantly, but I certainly could tell it was difficult. The part I had most looked forward to, honestly, was the airs above the ground. I wound up being ever-so-slightly disappointed. Mainly it was because they took place so quickly; I was used to staring at the picture of Hans and Borina in mid-courbette and I guess I thought there was significant "hang time" involved. Silly me. Now I'm glad to say that I would be much better able to understand the dressage aspect and the true beauty of the quadrille.

After the show I was allowed to go across the street into the Lipizzan's stable. I had been very, very worried about this, afraid something would happen and I wouldn't be there on the right day or somehow not allowed in. As it turned out, I had no problem. I was crushed to discover, though, they had tied the horses to rings in the back of their stalls, and all I could really see was a bunch of muscular white haunches! What? I wanted to pet some noses, darn it!

One of the stallions, bless him, came to my rescue. He somehow slipped out of his halter or broke his tie and got himself turned around, and happily nuzzled me when I made a beeline for his stall. I know, I know, I was asking for it sticking my hands/fingers right at a strange stallion, but somehow I had no fear (and I should have known better, as a story I'll tell another time will reveal). We had a few brief moments together - I believe I had time to plant a smacker on his adorable pink and grey nose - and then someone from the School came whipping down the aisle to shoo me away. I'm sure I blushed beet red but honestly, I didn't care - I'd gotten to touch one of the White Stallions of Lipizza and that was good enough for me. :-)

I took a bunch of photos of this whole experience, of course, and I wish I knew what happened to them. I know there were slides, because I was able to put together a really kick-ass 4-H Horse Project presentation (I'm sure people had done projects on Lipizanners before, but I was likely one of the few kids in NJ who'd ever seen them in person!) which earned me the top award at the state level. Again, not knowing where the photos are is okay: my trip to the Spanish Riding School is one of those memories that is firmly embedded. Definitely one of my happiest horsey times ever, and I look forward to meeting the gentleman at the KYP who will bring it all back!

Chestnut Mare, Beware

This is kind of funny... once again, I'm not posting what I had planned to put up next, but that's okay! I just finished writing a rather lengthy comment over on another blog, and decided it was worthy of continuing over here. I had intended to write about this horse someday anyway. She truly was one of the most interesting equines I have ever run across.

I don't have any photos of the real Polly, so this isn't her, but it looks very much like her:

Same bright and gleaming chestnut coat, rounded butt, nice straight legs, close-coupled body and star on the forehead. She was a beautifully-conformed full TB out of the barn owner's lovely and well-mannered OTTB stallion, who after winning almost $200K on the track had excelled as a jumper in his younger days. She belonged to the BO; he usually bred for one or two foals of his own every year. I think when I met her she was about four years old. I never saw her mother as she didn't live there.

Polly was part of the lesson string at the time and I was given her to ride only my second time at the barn, after the trainer found out I wasn't a beginner rider (just a re-rider). I truly thought I was going to die that day. The darn horse simply did Not. Want. To. Go. I had little stamina and my legs were still hurting from my first lesson six days prior. The only way to get anything more than a slow trot out of the mare was leg, leg and more leg. She acted like HER legs were encased in lead! So much for the "hot TB" stereotype... (since she'd never been at the track I know it doesn't really apply).

I rode Polly a few more times after that and quickly learned that if she finally got rolling, the horse could jump, and well. She took me over the "high side" of a U-shaped gate one day and nearly launched me into outer space. I was not in any shape to be negotiating 3' instead of 2'6," believe me! Unfortunately, I also found out in a hurry that she was a total b*tch when it came to grooming. God forbid you touched her heavenly body with anything other than a jelly curry or an extremely soft brush. It's a good thing she was one of those horses that naturally maintained a super-slick and shiny coat pretty much by herself, because normal grooming caused snaps, strikes and cow kicks. I shudder to think of what would have happened if she'd rolled in mud! (Lest you wonder, I didn't feel I could discipline her much since I was just a humble lesson student.)

Two days in particular that I spent with Polly in the lesson program will never be forgotten. The first was when I was already mounted, and the trainer asked for us to begin trotting. Nope. Not happening. No trot today, thankyouverymuch. I mean, NOTHING. Kicking? No. Squeezing? No. Verbal commands? No. Smack on the butt? No. I was dead in the water in the middle of the arena, ready to cry in frustration and embarrassment. I had not experienced anything like this since I was about six years old at Tricorne Farm riding some ancient pony. As luck would have it, the BO happened upon this little scene and told me to get down... and, well, you probably know what happened next. He beat that mare into next week and made her go. I did cry then, partly from mortification and partly because it was becoming more and more clear to me that this horse was a square peg being forced into a round hole.

On the other day that's engraved in my memory, I never even got on Polly's back. I arrived at the barn for my lesson and found her name next to mine. Believe it or not, I didn't mind. She had earned my respect and I was truly interested in trying to figure out what made this horse tick. Futhermore, I had the feeling that Polly actually kind of liked me, as much as she was going to like anyone. I grabbed her halter, went in her stall... and was greeted thusly:

Seriously, if ever a horse gave someone the finger, she did. I'm no animal psychic, but I'm telling you, I could read her mind quite easily! I beat a hasty retreat and went to find my trainer. She said something along the lines of, quit being a baby/being ridiculous, snatched the halter and marched in the stall. Ten seconds later she emerged and said, "You know what, why don't you ride someone else today..."  :-)

About a year and a half after I started taking lessons, Polly was moved to another barn aisle and I found out she'd been sold to one of the boarders. I thought this was quite interesting and hoped that maybe having just one rider fairly skilled rider would lead to attitude improvement on her part. Yes and no: she did okay, but she still drew the line some days and caused no little angst for her owner and the trainer. I would stop and say hello to her, Ms. Ears-Pinned-All-The-Time Snarly Face, just because I wished her well and hoped that somehow, eventually she'd be happy.

Imagine my surprise when out of the blue, Polly's owner asked me if I'd be interested in exercising her once a week. Are you kidding? OF COURSE. I mean, yeah, it was Polly, complete with sulkiness/balkiness/quirks/downright meanness at times, but I still jumped at the chance to get in extra riding time. I was pleased her owner recognized that I cared about her and that we got along pretty well. What followed was truly a blissful period in my riding career. I'd take a lesson one day a week, and then get to go back to the barn to ride again. We just did W/T/C in the arena, or went out on the trails (she seemed to like that a lot), but it's literally the only time in my life so far that I could pretend, just for a couple hours or so, that I had my own horse. *le sigh*

Very sadly for everyone, IMHO, the BO shut down this arrangement after only five or six weeks. Apparently he was irritated or worried from a legal standpoint that no lease had been signed and it was strictly a verbal thing (and that I wasn't spending any money). I guess I understand, but at the time it caused a whole lot of tears on my part. Frankly, I was devastated. I was just starting to feel like I was building a better connection with the chestnut mare and wham, it was all over. (For the record, I never experienced another completely "eff you" day from her, either.)

Polly's owner soldiered on with her for at least another year and a half. She was shown in some local unrated shows and earned a few decent ribbons, but you could still just tell her heart was never in being a hunter. I believe the final straw came when she simply refused to learn flying changes; I'm sure she had the ability to do them, but absolutely no willingness. This obviously was going to limit her as a hunter show horse. One day she was gone, and I was told that her owner had sold her to a mother/daughter pair in Arkansas who were going to use her strictly as a trail horse. I thought this very good news, indeed.

Having been a lesson student my whole riding career, I'm afraid I hadn't ever really considered whether or not the horses I was on enjoyed their work. Polly was quite the wake-up call. Since she was in my life I have learned and thought a whole lot about horses and the jobs we ask them to do. Despite her practically-perfect conformation and hunter/jumper lineage, Polly most definitely did not want to be one. What would have happened if she'd been allowed time off, say, six months of nothing but hanging out in a pasture, and then been re-started in a totally different way, with someone listening to what she had to say about where her true talents lay? I really have to wonder. The best ride I ever had on her was the day someone was ponying a baby in the arena the same time we were in there. She was absolutely fascinated and whizzed around trying to get a better look, trotting so fast I was out of breath trying to keep up. This from a horse who normally would wear out my legs just getting her to trot! Her ears were up, her legs were churning, her brain was engaged and voila, it was like riding a totally different horse. I've mulled this over many times since.

Dear Pretty Polly, I truly hope this is the view in front of you these days, and that someone is cherishing you. You taught me a lot and I will never forget the times we spent together. Happy trails!

Whatta Hunk!

I am not (GASP!) actually referring to a horse here, but rather this guy and his horse:

If you don't know who this is, you were born after 1980.

Yes, it's the Lone Ranger and Silver, as imagined by the Gabriel Toy Co., ca. 1973.  As I have mentioned, I looooved to play with my model horses. And I totally adored Silver and his rider for one reason/two words: FULLY POSEABLE. As in, the LR was the only doll I had who could perform proper equitation. Barbie and Ken were a total wash, for pete's sake; you couldn't pry their legs far enough apart to even get them on a horse, much less ride one in any semblance of form. (Side note: To think there were all those rumors about Barbie and Ken - between his missing anatomy and her non-functioning hips, there wasn't much chance of anything going on in that Dream House).

Silver's wonderful jointed legs meant that I could mold him into perfect hunter knees-to-the-eyeballs form and send him soaring over my book "jumps." The Lone Ranger could hold the reins, keep his heels down, and even assume 2-point with a little coaxing. This made for wonderfully realistic play times. The Breyers were definitely jealous of their stablemate, who got a lot more airtime then they did.

Unfortunately, the pair pictured above are not my Lone Ranger and Silver. Those two were recently up for auction on EBay, and I wish I could have justified shelling out thirty bucks for something I already have, albeit in not nearly as good condition (I'd love to know how they survived 37 years in such good shape - maybe they belonged to some strange kids who never played with their stuff?). Here's my own fella:

But wait, you say, who's that aboard the faithful steed? Well, if you recall the LR had a sidekick, a Native American named Tonto. Some well-meaning relative gave my brother Tonto and his horse Scout. Here's that pair, currently for sale on Ebay:

I just realized this horse looks like he's missing his RF leg. I certainly hope not!

Needless to say, they didn't spend too much time with my brother, as they too were quickly drafted into my Olympic showjumping team. Scout has disappeared (maybe Brother has him? We're all pack rats.) and so has my Lone Ranger, thus you get the remaining duo. Poor Tonto had a hand get broken off, so his left arm now ends in some electrical tape. Silver's reins wore out and were replaced with some gold-covered gift wrapping elastic. Really classy, but hey, they were my buddies and have a home forever.

Here's another equine from the childhood collection:

Whew, talk about Fugly! However, this little red pony from the Marx "Johnny West" collection is actually very important to me. Like about a zillion other little girls, my most fervent wish was to own my own horse/pony. Ideally, the equine would magically appear at my house, tied to my favorite tree and grazing contentedly on the front lawn. Many a birthday morning I would wake up, creep over to the window and look out, hoping against hope that somehow my prayers would have been answered.

Alas, that never happened... but what DID happen was one morning I woke up and found a box with that plastic pony in it sitting on the bedroom floor. My dad had been on a business trip to San Francisco, and I knew when I went to bed the night before that he was supposed to come home. He rarely brought us toys when he travelled so a gift had not even been on my radar.  Imagine my surprise and delight when Little Red was there waiting for me! I was just overjoyed. I played with that guy so much, making him jump things, that I broke his tail clean off from using as a handle.

Unfortunately, that gift horse also caused me a bit of trouble in the future. For years afterwards when Dad went on a trip, I would wake up the morning after he got back and open my eyes just...a... little... bit... at a time, hoping that another super present was awaiting my discovery. Nope - the pony was a one-off thing. But that's okay, he was SO good that I will always remember Dad's thoughtfulness. I know he gave me that pony with a lot of love and wishes that it could have been a real one. :-)



Seattle Slew and the Belmont Stakes

Since the Belmont Stakes is coming up soon, I thought I'd share the story of my one and only trip to see the famous race in person.

I grew up in Middletown, N.J., which according to Google Maps is a mere 61 miles from the Belmont Park Racetrack in Elmont, NY. As I mentioned in a previous post, my mom and I were really upset when Secretariat won the Triple Crown so tantalizingly close to home. The reason we didn't go to the Belmont that year, though, is two-fold: as good as Red was, it seemed almost impossible that a horse really was going to win the Triple Crown - it had been 25 years! - and, Mom knew the journey would be very difficult and in reality take far longer than the 1.15 hours Google is currently claiming. ANY trip to Long Island from N.J. is pretty much guaranteed to be a nightmare on a good day, never mind a day when a whole lot of folks are headed in the same direction.

Nevertheless, just as soon as we were done cheering our lungs out at the TV when Big Red won and still wiping our teary eyes, Mom declared, "That's it - if another horse wins the first two races We. Are. Going. to the Belmont. It's just awful that we weren't there."  Fast forward to four years later...

A dark brown colt by the name of Seattle Slew was taking the racing world by storm. Purchased for a measly $17,000 by some newbie Thoroughbred owners, he quickly proved they'd hit the proverbial jackpot by going undefeated as a two-year-old and in all three of his Derby prep races. Reflect on this for a second: can you imagine the Taylor's & partner's beginner's luck??? When there are people out there dropping millions on TBs, they spend a fraction of the cost of a good showjumper even back then, and WHAM, wind up with the likes of Seattle Slew. Talk about a needle in a haystack! Anyway, Champion 2-Year-Old Seattle Slew went roaring into the Derby and won it handily, the first undefeated horse to do so. Everybody had high hopes for him in the Preakness and he did not disappoint. Some said he might fall to the speedy Cormorant, but that fellow finished third and Slew held off Iron Constitution to win by a length and a half. I must have turned to my mom (of course we had watched the race together) and said, "Well????"

The trip was on. My younger brothers and dad were either not interested in going, busy, or simply not invited - I don't remember which. Mom and I were definitely the horse people in the family so I think it was the former. Probably things were said along the lines of, "Why would you want to sit in traffic for hours just to see a stupid horse race," but we were undeterred: we were off to Belmont Park, come hell or high water, hopefully to see history being made once again.

The morning of the race dawned overcast, with some rain, but that did not dampen our spirits. I actually do not recall the car trip there, but I'm sure it wasn't any fun for the driver. Belmont Park was definitely crammed full of people, I do remember that! We parked somewhere and went to the in-gate for the grandstand. That's where I got this:

Isn't that a simply gorgeous trophy... I love silver anyway, and silver with horses is REALLY nice.

Yes, that's my real program from the day, dog-ears, pencil marks, beverage stains and all! I must confess that when I dug this out, I headed over to Ebay to see if it might be worth anything in actual dollars... nope, not really. Especially not in "well-used" condition. Oh, well, to me it's pretty much priceless - I'm extremely glad to still have this wonderful souvenir.

Mom and I made our way into the grandstand and from there out onto the apron in front of the track. I don't recall if we tried getting close to the rail prior to the Big Race, or were content to stand back a bit until it really counted.  I do know that we viewed most, if not all, of the races leading up to the Stakes, which was Race 8, because there are pencil marks on lots of the pages. Looking at the program the other night, I found it entertaining to check out the sires of all the runners that day to see whose names I recognized.

Belmont runners:

Bold Reasoning (Slew's dad)

Sir Ivor

Dust Commander (know he won the Derby)
Good Counsel

Horses in other races:

Dr. Fager

Hail To Reason

Raja Baba

Gallant Man

Northern Dancer

Damascus

Hoist the Flag

In Reality

Stage Door Johnny

Grey Dawn

An interesting look back! Here's what's really fascinating, though: out of all the runners themselves that day (nine races, so around 75 horses), guess how many names I recognized? Two. Slew himself, and Our Mims. Just goes to show you the percentage of how many TBs do not make it big on the track or in the breeding shed.

Here's the page before the listing of the horses in the Belmont:

It's hard to see but that's a list of prior winners going back to 1965 at the top of the page, and of course the race record holder's name at the tippy-top. Wonder who that could be... AND STILL IS.

Prior to looking at this, Mom and I had definitely made our best attempt to battle through the crowd to get as close to the rail as possible. We wound up about 10' away, and about 75' short of the finish line, packed in like sardines. The page for the Belmont itself:

Anybody recognize any of those other names? Not me.

As we were standing there a commotion rose up behind us. Two young men were making their way through the crowd, one of them pushing the other in a wheelchair. Oh, dear, I thought, poor handicapped guy! He'll never be able to see anything. At about 5'4" myself, I'd quickly realized that I wasn't going to see a whole heck of a lot, either. The crowd parted up to a point, and the young men wound up right next to me and Mom. The one in the wheelchair had a standard-size plastic cooler balanced across the arms of the chair. They weren't going to get any closer; everyone else was clinging to their hard-fought positions.

Go ahead and laugh if you saw this coming... the next thing that happened was a (koff) miracle! After his friend lifted off the cooler, the guy in the chair promptly stood up, reached into the cooler, grabbed a can of beer and declared, "Happy Belmont, everybody!" while grinning madly. Not a thing wrong with HIS legs! Nice scam to make your way through a crowd, hunh. Nobody was really mad at them, fortunately, as everyone was excited and in a party mood (and probably half of them were bombed, too).

This whole escapade turned out to be my saving grace. The guys saw that I was struggling to see anything on the track, and graciously offered to let me stand on the cooler. That helped a lot; I was now a foot taller. "New York, New York" played, everyone sang, and the horses came out onto the track. I scanned the runners, trying to scope out the Big Guy and how he looked. Drat - it was still hard to see anything. And that's when the Wheelchair Guys really got inspired, and made the race for me: "Here, get up on top of this and you'll be able to see!" They'd put the cooler on the arms of the wheelchair!

So that's how I wound up viewing the 1977 Belmont Stakes from my own private elevated stand, around 4' off the ground. I was not good with heights, and the whole arrangement was rather shaky, but I truly did not care: I had a bird's-eye view of the whole thing. It was FANTASTIC! Not to mention, my dad and brothers were at home watching it on TV, and when we got there and told them where I'd been, Dad said he thought he remembered seeing someone sticking way up above the rest of the crowd in front of the grandstand. So I might have made it on TV, too. :-)

As for the race itself, yes, I remember seeing Slew leading the race handily coming towards the finish line. Unless he fell flat on his face he had it sewed up. I was shouting, "He's going to to do it! He's going to do it!" but I couldn't celebrate too madly due to my precarious perch. If you watch the YouTube video, you can see the whole race and the fact that Slew led virtually wire-to-wire. What a triumph! Seattle Slew became the first undefeated Triple Crown winner. Mom and I were absolutely thrilled to have witnessed it, and made our way home tired and happy. It was certainly worth the trip.

Jockey Jean Cruguet celebrates after crossing the finish line. I got to meet him in 2009 at the Secretariat Festival in Paris, KY and told him about how I saw the race, which he thought was pretty funny!

My only other brush with Triple Crown greatness has been through relatives. My two nieces who live in Cincinnati are dancers, and Steve Cauthen's daughter is a member of their troupe. The two families are quite friendly. So I do have an autographed picture of Affirmed with Steve up, winning the Belmont. I haven't gotten to meet him yet but I hear he's a really nice guy, in case you're wondering! :-)

Looking forward to the 2011 Belmont this Saturday - go Mucho Macho Man and Animal Kingdom!

You're Never Too Old

Lookie what I got, for my Mother's Day present:

Zenyatta, aka "Zenny," or "The Queen"

I am such a dope I actually forgot that I'd asked for her, and still didn't even realize what it was when I saw the wrapped box. DUHHH! So of course there were major waterworks... my hubby sweetly remembered that I'd said I would love to have this. Just goes to show you, NO, there are some things you are not too old to want, and plastic horse models are one of them! :-)

I was going to discuss my childhood collection of Breyers at some point anyway, so this was a good opportunity. I think it's safe to say that virtually all horse-crazy little girls collect Breyers (they used to be a bit more affordable - DH had sticker shock picking up Zenny there, unfortunately). At the peak of my collection I think I had around 35. I don't know about most kids, but I played with my model horses darn near every day. One of my favorite activities with them was to set up books tent-style as "jumps" on my bedroom floor, and have horse shows. (More on this in next post re: horse models)

What's really a bummer is that part of the group included about 10 small-size, nicely-made plastic horses that one of my babysitters gave me. One day I thought to look inside a hind leg and to my surprise, there was the Breyer stamp. These were from the early 60s at least. For all I know, these very early ones probably would put my kids through college if I had them to sell now... but alas, they disappeared along with a number of other models. However, (control your surprise here), I DO still have a few!

I believe my first one was this fellow:

I think they called this a "Proud Arabian Stallion," although he's not the current model under that name. He's wearing the nifty blanket I made him from a kit that Breyer sold back in the day. It even has a little Tricorne Farm logo on it that my mom helped me cut out. I wish there had been more "do-it-yourself" accessory kits, but I had to content myself with making leg bandages out of rolled up tissues with Scotch tape around them, and/or Band-Aids. I even made little horse shoes out of aluminum foil that I glued to their feet. (Yes, Children, this is the kind of thing young people did when there was nothing on TV every afternoon except soap operas!)

One of my favorites, now MIA, was my Palomino 5-Gaited Stallion. I adored that one and took particular care "grooming" him. I don't know why I just did it with him, but I took cotton balls soaked in baby oil and polished him until he absolutely gleamed. Nowadays you can buy them in a "glossy" finish, but my homemade one worked fine.

Here's another:

This is Mr. "Semi-Rearing Stallion," in buckskin. He is wearing a harness that I absolutely killed myself making out of shoelaces in order to portray him as a Roman chariot horse (project for Latin class in H.S.). It was sewn directly on him with considerable effort, and I've never been able to make myself cut the traces and free him from his painstakingly-constructed tack. Poor guy!

These next two were late additions to the collection - really, I only seem to have one truly old one still with me (the Arab). Don't know why some survived and many others are keeping my prom dresses company in a NJ landfill (this is what happens when your mom sells the childhood home after almost 30 years, and you are not on hand to definitively rescue your things. I did - obviously - get a lot of stuff but other important items vanished...). Unfortunately, I don't particularly care for either one, as the model maker they had in those days had a thing about putting the horses' eyes too close together and too far up on their heads. If they're worth anything I could definitely sell them!

"Black Beauty" or "The Black Stallion" - not sure, and not a current model under that name

"Some Kind of Appaloosa," ca. 1980. Again, not a current model and can't find him

And finally, here's a photo that you've seen before, with an addition:

This is the shelf in my bedroom which holds a bunch of equestrian memorabilia. Wild Horse Annie's "Buck" is on top of the old rocking horse. I think I actually got Buck in my twenties, not as a kid. I love the way he's only attached to his stand by one foot and is portrayed running free. And there's Secretariat, the "anniversary" edition with him wearing his Derby rose blanket, which I acquired in 2008 and have never opened (Zenny will not be opened, either). I'll tell you a secret: his eyes are all wrong, too! It is NOT a good likeness of Red. In researching this post, I have discovered there's a running model of Red that's much better, so guess what I'll be asking for for my birthday this year... :-).

"School For Young Riders," Cont'd

I really was highly entertained looking through my old and battered book, so I hope you don't mind looking at a few more photos from within. Here's a shot that brought back memories:

The reason why this rings a bell is the jumps. We had some of the exact same kind on the "outdoor" course we used at 4-H shows when I was a teenager. These same jumps, and field, were used during the very large AA-Rated Monmouth County Horse Show, still held every year back home in New Jersey. I never rode in that show, but I still think it's neat that I was able to show at least using the same courses as the "big-leaguers."

Anyway, anyone who's younger will probably be surprised to see these natural brush jumps, with the upright boxes and strictly fixed parts. Unless you're talking about one of the hunter derbies, which are thankfully becoming more popular, you won't see them in a hunter ring anymore (and even then, I bet they are "frangible" now). Guess what - we used to have to show over real hunt field-type jumps! Imagine that! We showed in the ring, too, with striped poles on standards with a nice ground line laid out in front, but by golly, we were also expected to go out and careen around (at least in my case, sorry to say) a bunch of natural jumps on grass in a great big field. 

Here's another kind of jump we had:

Yikes, natural timber! Okay, so I didn't show over anything this high (3'6" was my limit, and that was only a couple on course, not all the fences), but I know I jumped some real fences like this in my day. No wonder I'd get so freaking scared I'd forget to breathe. It would take a lot of persuading to get me over something similar now... but I still think jumps like you'd actually find when fox hunting belong in today's rings.

This photo I also found interesting for a comparison to today's positions and tack. Again, we see a lovely automatic release, with the horse jumping freely and happily. The rider's position is examplary: head up, eyes up, seat out of the saddle just enough. Her heel is jammed securely down, a bit surprising since the stirrup is so far back on her foot. She's grinning away and actually looks like she's having fun, something I really appreciate!

This must have been a Corinthian/Appointments class, requiring all the proper hunting tack and apparel. I like the flying sandwich case. Want one of those now? You're going to pay: Antique sandwich case (that's over $300, on average). Yowza. A more modern one can be purchased here, but you're supposed to call for the price. You know what that means!

Other anomalies to today are the mile-long coat, the enormous open-bottomed stirrups (ouch, I'll stick to my Sprenger knock-offs), and the velvet hunt cap with the nearly useless elastic chin strap. This one must have been pretty new because it still looks tight. We also see more and smaller mane braids on modern hunters, but these, and the tail, look very nice.

Overall, this photo just makes me smile. A horse and rider whooping it up in the show ring, both doing well what they clearly love. Wonderful!

Finally, here's a page where we learn that kids back then, despite the sheltered lives, still found creative opportunities to try and do themselves in:

What the -- ?!?! Caption says, "Pair jumping minus tack is fun." Sure, until somebody breaks their neck! Even as a kid the thought of this curled my hair, especially since the pony had a roached mane. Nothing to grab in an emergency looked like a genuinely Bad Idea to me. Excellent riding here, nonetheless: I tried jumping bareback with a bridle one time, and wound up in the dirt.

As for the mounting over the butt and standing up, there's plenty of people now who think this is a swell way to advertise their fugly backyard steed. "Lookit here, ah kin stand on 'ole Spot the Walkerpintaloosa stud. He may not know nuthin' 'cept breedin' mares, but by golly, he's DEAD QUIET for standin'!" :-)

P.S. Thank you for your comments, I truly appreciate them!