1984, An Equestrian Is Born
Early 1984 a young girl is told they are moving to the Midwest.
To my horror my parents informed me that we were moving. I had finally gotten settled into public school and comfortable. I did not want to leave my friends and have to start all over again. I still can’t believe that I actually suggested that my father take one of the other assignments offered to him in Alaska or over seas for two years just so I could stay here. I’m awful.
In my protest and in our ‘negotiations,’ my father finally offered the one thing I had waited my whole life to hear…all ten years of it. Since we had moved to rural Westmoreland, and been surrounded by so many farms, I had been begging for a pony. The kids on my school bus had one they never even looked at. My neighbor’s grandmother lived next to a pasture of horses and cows and she lied regularly to me about how she had gotten to ride them and how her father was going to buy her one. There were also several beautiful bay horses pastured near my Grandfather’s house in Maryland that I always insisted someone brought me out to see. Something inside was calling to me. So when dad offered me a pony when we returned to New York in two years, I could no longer object.
In the fall of ’84 my mother cut out an ad in the newspaper for horseback riding lessons. They had discussed the fact that if I were to have a pony in less than two years time, I should learn how much work they are. They say it was a plan for me to be safe, but I personally think it was sort of an evil plot to discourage the desire for a four legged friend.
I was signed up for my first riding lesson at Farmstead Riding Academy in Bellevue, Nebraska. My mother assumed I would be learning the basics of western riding and about stable care so that I could enjoy my backyard horse. It turns out that this riding facility was a hunter barn. I met my first trainer; Ned and he help get me set in my English saddle atop Mr. Goodbar…a very cute blanketed chestnut Appaloosa. I learned that first day all the basics; about steering, heels down, the different riding positions, and of course, posting. To my delight, and my parents dismay…I was a natural!
The next weekend I was teamed up with another young girl for my lesson. Our parents soon learned that we were the same exact age, we were both military dependents, we lived in the same housing development, and then low and behold!! She lived right through my back yard! What were the chances? Barbie very quickly became my best friend.
A few months later we were ready to show. We took our lesson horses to Ponca Hill Stable. I won my first class! Again…a natural… At least that’s how it started. I rode in the cross rail class and on the last fence, my mount Princess, stumbled to her knees and I slid down her neck taking in a mouth full of dirt. I was of course disqualified for all intentional purposes. But this was a schooling show and because they wanted me to feel encouraged… they asked if my friend Barbie wouldn’t mind not getting a ribbon so that I would receive one. To this day I appreciate what she lost out on for my benefit, but I also still feel very bad about it. I though t about folding that ribbon up and mailing it to her, but then I noticed that it is neatly sewn into the ribbon wall hanging in my office that my mom made years ago. (Sorry Barbie)
One year later Ned approached my parents and told them that he thought I was ready to become part of their riding team. I was thrilled…this meant I was getting a horse!! I rode a few in this process. Mom and I drove all over the Midwest looking at horses…I remember very distinctly a little bay horse in a back woods swamp area as well as a little gray Arabian in a big hilly field. Both were unacceptable to my trainer. They had one for me at the farm named Play Mate, but he did not work out. I was afraid of him, although I tried to ride him. At one point I flew off and let out a scream. The other horse I was allowed to ride at the farm was Bates Motel. I still dream of that horse. He wasn’t for sale at the time, but I was certain he was meant for me. A state champion bay jumper with a big white face. He was my dream. Bates came and went quickly from Farmstead however, and then I finally rode what would become my first horse.
The first time I rode Luke, I fell off. Placed in my new trainer Jim’s close contact, Hermes saddle, I was doing well, but when I was left behind over the three foot oxer in the short indoor arena we had, I lost it. I clung to the side of him for dear life. Finally he told me to jump…I dropped. He stepped right on my hip bone and when I close my eyes I can still see his feet passing over top of me.
The next time I rode we turned him loose in the outdoor arena with Goodbar to play. When my father and I went to catch him he charged us. Normal horses will turn when you move back at them. Not Luke. He kept on coming! My father was not impressed.
Regardless of all the warning signs, Christmas morning 1985 I awoke to a painted model horse peeking out of my stocking with papers tied with a ribbon around its neck! I got a horse for Christmas!
Luke and I would have many ups and downs…I mean that both figuratively and literally. I would fall off twice at my first rated show in Fremont, NE. I would manage to stay in the saddle for my flat classes but they were so big and I was SO outclasses. A good learning experience none the less. What I brought home from Fremont, was no awards but a killer determination to be the best and improve every possible way that I could. I rode and learned constantly. I rode as many horses as they would let me in one day. I attended clinics; I busted my butt to figure it all out…me and my horse. Finally we attended our next rated show held right at home at Farmstead. We were MUCH better. We even won some ribbons! My glory didn’t come without its dark clouds however…the next morning after the show wrapped up, Luke was loaded on a large rig and left for New York. We were going home. We were headed back to the one place I had never wanted to leave. Dad had kept his promise…I had gotten a pony. Only now, once again, I didn’t want to leave. I had made a life in Nebraska. I had made the best friends any girl could ask for and I never wanted to leave such a magical place. Regardless…I had to. After all Luke had already arrived there when we were still packing and I needed to be reunited with him.
Luke would stay at a friend’s place in Poland, NY until we could find a stable near by. My mother and I ventured to all the local stables finally finding Tantivy Farm in Kirkland, NY…five minutes from home. It was big and beautiful! An indoor arena like I had never seen before and an outdoor Hunt Course…I was in hunter heaven. The stable had a trainer on hand, Lynn Meili who would become my new instructor.
We showed in the farm’s riding series as well as some local rated shows. Luke was unpredictable. He had a dirty habit of taking off bucking after fences. In hind sight, I think there may have been more to it then a behavior issue, but I didn’t know about such things at the time. We found a cute little chestnut mare for sale and the owners were looking for something new as well. That girl needed something bigger built. Luke fit the profile, so we swapped. Money was involved as well, but basically I got her hot thoroughbred mare and she got my bay gelding.
In the Beginning, I liked that Lady was hot. I loved the way that she would snort rhythmically around the ring and how it would stop when we were in the air and begin again once we landed on the other side. I liked that she was powerful coming in to the fences. She was also very sweet and nickered every time I came to the see her. What I didn’t anticipate was how exhausting it would be physically and emotionally trying to get her calm and quiet coming in. I very quickly became frustrated with Lady and at the same time, became very aware of a new trend in riding and local shows…stock breeds were winning every thing…at least everything where I was showing.
Cute little Quarter Horses and Paints with their heads down to their knees, just loping around quietly in hand or on a loose rein. This was taking Central NY by storm. They were winning…I was not. Finally I decided that I needed to get on that wagon. The decision was made that we would sell Lady and find me a Quarter Horse. I had been babysitting for the Volo’s quite often and in the quiet evenings I spent in the apartment I would spend slowly turning the pages of their Quarter Horse Journals. I memorized all their names, I read the articles, I picked out my favorites. What I wanted more than anything at that point, was a blue cooler that said "World Show" on it. My dreams of riding in the Olympics were long gone...now I had s new dream...that cooler.
My parents had talked with the stable owner, Sherry Volo about any horses she may have for sale or know of. I told her that I wanted a sixteen hand bay gelding with a white face and one tall white leg (like Smoke only brown.) Sherry told me, and I quote, “we don’t custom order.”
My parents had talked with the stable owner, Sherry Volo about any horses she may have for sale or know of. I told her that I wanted a sixteen hand bay gelding with a white face and one tall white leg (like Smoke only brown.) Sherry told me, and I quote, “we don’t custom order.”
Before I knew it, Sherry and the Hoyts had come up with the perfect horse for me.
Now I just had to be patient for him to arrive…
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