Tales from a Horseman's Daughter

Imagine,if you can, growing up being the daughter of a horseman and growing up always around a stable. The stable full of horses needing to be fed and watered everyday, groomed and exercised would put you to the test.
Then there's the mucking out, cleaning out of hooves when needed, and the myriad of other responsibilities that go with running a stable.
Pitching in, to say the least, is expected and willingly or unwillingly daughters have to help.
Most of us would agree the pleasures of working with horses far outweigh the inevitable pain that happens at times. Our stories are all different but a certain thread runs through them. I hope you, the reader, recognize it.

Friday, January 2, 2009

I loved it!
I hated it!

Being the daughter of a man who earned the family's livilihood working with horses made me feel different growing up. Different from the kids I went to school with and became friends with, different in that I thought my life was special. What other kid in all of Farmingdale-Old Bethpage could boast of owning a stable full of horses. What other kid could ride to her heart's content. What other kid could boast of a father who trained Gene Autry's horse, Champion, rode in rodeos, owned polo ponies from Cuba and other faraway places and played polo with player greats. My young childhood could only be discribed as not the usual for a kid in the late 40''s and early 50's.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008