ARABIAN NIGHTS...

Sunday with a new pal...

Yesterday, life was good. I spent the afternoon soaking in all I could about Arabian horses, riding, observing, listening and learning after a very long absence of them in my life. The afternoon was power-packed with more learning than any clinic could deliver. My instructor is a friend who is patient as she is awesome on horseback. It was incredible watching her work with a young horse who was not exactly thrilled with her new bit, let alone riding in the arena. But my friend has a solid and consistent background of experience with horses that began in childhood and was never interrupted. This is not an unimportant point, no matter what you enjoy doing.

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Once a month I read through Hemming's Classic Car magazine and then recycle it by mailing it off to my brother. We have enjoyed cars since I was six years old and reading about car restoration is always interesting. I mention this only because a car owner featured in this month's edition spoke about how life's responsibilities interrupted his restoration project for twenty years. A monthly horse magazine that I also enjoy reading carried similar reflections from a woman in her early forties who (unlike my cousin) survived breast cancer. She too wrote about being away from horses for twenty years before a clean bill of health gave her a new lease lease on life and she returned to dressage competition. This of course brought back memories of my cousin who was a saddle bred gal, and her spirit was with me in that arena through the entire afternoon. For some reason, I experienced a thought about her that I never considered in the nearly nine years since her passing.

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For reasons I can't explain, I tried remembering whether or not my cousin ever suggested to me as a kid that I participate in a 4-H club. This is not a disturbing thought much less a major consideration. But it was the first time I had ever thought about that question while riding and it stayed with me on and off through the evening after I returned home. Who knows? Perhaps it came to me from my continuing work with kids today and the concerns I have about what passes as entertainment on television that they absorb. Some of you may recall my blogging about the three years I spent pitching a cable television program called "When Dreams Come True" to 300 producers. That was an excursion in futility I don't recommend to anyone with a bank account and any degree of common sense because invariably you wind up losing both! But I digress. The 4-H Pledge is very cool:

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I pledge my Head to clearer thinking,
my Heart to greater loyalty,
my Hands to larger service,
and my Health to better living. . .
for my club, my community, my country and my world.

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Speaking of common sense, this pledge appeals to me. Perhaps if my hometown in the Mid-West adopted programs like this, it might not be over-run with gang activity as it is today! Back to reality in Arizona: I had a great day. I drove home and napped for hours. The air conditioning was a welcomed relief to the hours spent in the sun. Still, it was a gorgeous day and I remember thinking as I slept on and off just how long the sunset took. Dusk remains my favorite time of day, just as breakfast is my favorite meal.

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I have a new pair of riding boots that my physical therapist will look over Tuesday when he returns from out of town. Foot surgery from a few years back has caused me to make some adjustments, and one of them is an inability to wear my Tony Lama boots any longer. Not a huge loss, just a need to adapt to the new reality of post-surgery orthotics, and this can be challenging. The poor guy who fitted me for my boots was a young college student studying film in the southeast part of our state. He had a lot of patience, as I tried on at least 14 pairs within an hour. Thank God the store was empty. The last pair I tried on seemed to do the trick. I hope the new boots pass my physical therapist's approval for next week's ride. Phoenix weather on Sunday was in the 90's and very nice.

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Even after waking up from my nap, I sat down and tried again to recall whether or not my cousin ever mentioned 4-H to me. If I were a betting man, I would tend to think she did, although I have no clear recollection of anything beyond her phone calls to my parents' home asking if it was okay to stop by and drive me to the stables where she boarded her horses and those exciting car trips. I still laugh today as I think about her red two seater Triumph convertible and later, her orange MGB convertible--she drove her sports cars fast and rough. However, I also remember her as being able to handle a car in any situation the way Steve McQueen could. My cousin could have been another Danica Patrick! She was no different on a horse--very confident and competent. Next month it will be an amazing nine years since she passed away. Basically, she and I were a couple of black sheeps in my family, so I can still laugh about our good times together, including some of her more amusing observations about life I won't repeat here. Have a nice week!