Everyone has fantasies that don’t match reality, Mr. Toastmaster, fellow toastmasters and honored guests. When I was growing up, I certainly did. Tonight, I want to tell you about one pivotal period in my life when I shed some childhood fantasies and learned three valuable lessons. I call this time “The Year of the Horse.”
Like many young girls, I fell in love with horses and dreamed of riding these beautiful and powerful creatures. I rode them across sunny flowering fields and with the wind steaming through my long hair. My sparkling gown trailing behind…
I had collections of plastic and porcelain horses. I had posters and books – Black Beauty, King of the Wind, and Misty of Chincoteague. I followed thoroughbred racing and cried when my horse lost. I watched every western movie and series to see the horses gallop. I loved Annie Oakley. I begged my mother for a pony and then for a horse. Not a chance.
Finally, after years of pestering, my mother allowed me one year of horseback riding lessons at a local farm (she had been secretly putting aside money to pay for this for months). The only condition was that I had to take my little sister. This was almost a deal breaker, but I gave in and together my sister Lynn, (3 years younger) and I began “The Year of the Horse.”
The first lesson I learned during the year of the horse was, “Don’t believe everything you see on TV and read in books.” My fantasies of horses and riding were all based largely on what I had read and seen in movies and TV. They never describe what a barn really smells like! You can smell a horse barn ½ a mile away! Horses produce manure – a lot of it! And they don’t care where they drop it – any old place is fine. They step through it, they track it around – they just stand right in it! You never ever see horse manure on TV. Those horses never poop. And, if they do, it disappears magically.
Well, if you are going to take riding lessons, they first thing they break you of if repulsion of horse manure. You have to wear these big rubber boots (again never shown on TV or described in books where you just have the hand tooled leather one) and you just have to wade right in. If you don’t, how are you going to catch the horse? We had to learn first how to catch a horse, groom him, and then saddle him before we were allowed on his back. (And getting up on a horse is not as easy as it looks on TV either). One of the most wonderful chores we had to do in preparation is pick the horses hooves. Now imagine a little girl, maybe 80 pounds, 4 ½’ high,(and my sister much smaller than this) pushing a 1,000 pound horse that was 5 ½’ high at the shoulder and then snatching up his leg, then using a special pick to scoop out – you got it, horse manure from the bottom of his hooves. I mean gross!!! I have never read about this chore anywhere. I always though horses’ feet were just naturally clean.
My sister and I learned many other things about the messy and smelly life of horses that was never hinted at in Black Beauty. You have to pick fly larvae off them, they have bad breath, they will bite you if they want, and they are not that smart (they could never rescue you like in the movies).
We conquered preparing horses for riding, and did all the unglamorous work that goes into making these creatures look noble and beautiful. We began our lessons in earnest and made progress learning how to turn the horse right and left. (They only really do this if they want to and think you’ll smack them if they don’t). It was here that I learned my second lesson – If you fall off a horse get right back on.
This old chestnut is really true! And it probably came from an experience just like I had. I was making a great deal more progress at learning to ride than my sister. During one lesson, I got the green light to try a canter. Horses have different paces and you have to learn how to ride them when they walk, trot, canter, and run. A canter is sort of like a slow run. The pace is much smoother than a trot (very bumpy) but you have to move with the horse so his can keep his stride. I had just broken into my first canter when I tumbled from the saddle – gracefully I am told – somersaulted and landed on my behind – you guest it, in a pile of manure. The horse gleefully cantered away. Before I could feel any pain, cry, or even brush the poop from my backside, my instructor grabbed the reins from my wayward mount, picked me up and plopped me back in the saddle and off I went. My sister could only watch incredulously. If I had had half a minute to process what had happened to me – I could have been stepped on by ½ a ton of running horse, kicked by a stray hoof (picked clean at least), or broken bones, I never would have ridden again. Instead, I continued without fear – a health respect for hanging on better yes – fear no.
The year of the horse galloped by. I learned a lot about horses and riding. I started making plans to learn how to jump over fences (steeple chase). I didn’t care about the smell or the flies. I could catch a horse from an open field, groom him, saddle him, and mount him all without help from the instructor. Alas, my sister could not. She did not enjoy the lessons anymore, and she became afraid of the horses, but she hung in there because a deal was a deal and we were in it together. My mother stopped sending us in with checks, but scraped together the cash (emptying her handbag) each week, and would not let the embarrassment of paying with change stop her from financing the lessons, because a deal was a deal and we had one year.
The year of the horse ended. My sister did not want to continue ridding, and
my mother’s savings were depleted. And it was here, at the end of the
year, I came to realize the third lesson; that we make sacrifices for our family.
My sister had continued the lessons beyond her enjoyment, and my mother spent
all her money paying for them. I could have begged for more lessons, made a
huge fuss, cried, and carried on, but I did not, because a deal was a deal
and I had one special year. It was my turn to gracefully hold up my end of
the bargain. The Year of the Horse had been a year that forever changed my
life. During this time I learned three important lessons: Life seldom, if ever,
resembles what you see on TV and read about in books, if you fall off a horse
get right back on, and we make sacrifices for our family.