HORSES

Today is the Kentucky Derby; the run for the roses....which has some history in my life. My mother rode horses growing up; loved them; went to horse races; read the track sheets like a pro; bet on them and often won. I was always amazed. I am sure that when Mother and Dad moved their family to Cincinnati in 1942, mother was as happy about being  closer to those beautiful southern horse farms in Kentucky as she was about the charm of Cincinnati along the Ohio River. My mother loved horses so much that, for many years, two weeks before the running of the Derby, Mother and Dad took their children out of school to drive to the Keenland Racetrack where the Derby "two year olds" raced before the big event. Cincinnati is so close to Kentucky (just across the Ohio River) that, every year at this time, there are a plethora of parties and celebrations to watch the Derby and sing "My Old Kentucky Home." To this day, my family still calls me from Cincinnati (I am the only sibling of seven not living there) to tell me the name of the horse that has been put into the "pool" to win the prize money should I have the winning horse. Two years ago, my niece's son, then five years old, won the pot after his mom put his name in the "hat." When my sister called  to Chicago to tell him that his horse won, his answer to her was, "I have a horse?" One of the funniest things I had heard ever! Because my mother loved horse so much,she was anxious to have her children learn to ride, which I did at a place in Cincinnati called "Hilltop Farms." I can still experience the feelings of trepidation and fear I had on those horses, and the terror I experienced as my two brothers went galloping forward ahead of me, encouraging my horse to do the same. I don't think that I ever got over my fear, and the last time that I was on a horse was when I was living in Washington, D.C. where I was riding with a friend in Rock Creek Park, and my horse took off hell-bent for the barn. Because I was not in control of the horse, I intentionally slid off sideways (rather like I had learned to do skiing when I was going to fall), and went head-first into a gully. The horse and I had portaged two roadways where cars were going by quickly, and I was afraid that, on one of these roads, while the horse was galloping back home, the horse and I would have the misfortune to meet a car. I think that my rolling off saved my live, perhaps. I did receive a concussion and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. This was my last ride on a horse. Today, my granddaughter has begun to take riding lessons and loves it so much that she even offered, at age 7, to give up half of her allowance to continue. Her great-grandmother would love to hear that! Her grandmother, on the other hand, wishes her well.