A Little Bit of History

Hey guys!  Remember me??  Sorry for neglecting the blog!  I’m still Battling The Bulge and therefore not baking much, but mostly I’m reconnecting with my True Love.  You see, before I was a Mommy, or a baker, or a runner, or a blogger, or any of the other things that you guys know me as – I was a rider.  I literally grew up on the backs of horses.  My Mom was the one that opened up the world of equines to my brother and me…when we were six or so she borrowed a friend’s pony (Mickey!) and started giving us riding lessons.  I was in love, and so was my brother until the day that Mickey took off back to the barn with him.  Then there was the time that I got my brother bucked off my Mom’s horse, and the much later time that I tried to run him over with my own horse….in short, the world of horses was not the magical, happy place for him that it was for me.  Sorry, Walt!

Walt, Mom, Becki, Borrowed Horse

Mom and Dad had me help take care of Mom’s horse for a couple of years before they finally gave in and bought my first pony for my 8th birthday.  I wish I had some pictures of that Lucky pony already scanned, but since I don’t, I’ll just sprinkle some pics of Mom and her various horses here.

Pouty Becki and Proud Mom

Lucky was something else.  He was the perfect litmus test for determining if my horse fever was the genuine article or just a passing phase, because only a truly horse crazy little girl would fall as deeply in love with that mean pony as I did!  I have no idea how my parents even heard about the pony (who did not have a name when we bought him….I named him!) but we drove to Wing, Alabama and out to a pasture that was more of a mud hole in the middle of nowhere to see this scraggly pony owned by an old man who used him “to go huntin in the swamps.”

Mom in her Western phase

When we brought the pony home, Mom asked me what I wanted to call him and I told her, “Lucky.  Because he sure is lucky we saved him from that mud hole!”  And so began a four-year love/hate affair wherein my toes were stomped on a regular basis, my hair was pulled (Lucky had a tendency to grab my pony tail as I was cleaning his front feet, and he never let go quickly) and I learned how to RIDE.  There were many spills, many uncontrolled gallops back to the barn, and countless bruises to my ego but in the end, I could stick like glue to almost anything I sat on, and that pony was my best friend who I cried and cried for when I finally literally outgrew him.

Mom in her 30's

When we had to sell Lucky and look for a new HORSE for me, I thought my time had finally come and Mom would get a horse that I could actually compete with – you know, in shows.  I think that was Mom’s intention, too, because she DID buy a warmblood cross…but if Fletcher knew he had any pedigree in him, he hid it very well.  Yes, Fletcher.  The name suited the goofy horse perfectly.  He could untie knots and therefore escaped stalls, cross ties and arenas with ease.  He was a much sweeter spirit than Lucky, he was just…quirky.  But I could (and regularly did) do anything with Fletcher – if I asked him, he would try his heart out.  He just wasn’t particularly athletic, and in fact he fell over on top of me during two different jumping lessons where we were trying to wake him up and get him going a bit more.  Fortunately, neither of us were injured on either occasion, but I gave up the dream of being an eventer and spent most of the next four years mostly riding Fletcher bareback all over the Air Force Base where we kept him.

Mom showing in a knee brace - DETERMINATION.

As I entered high school, my enthusiasm for the horses finally started to wane a little.  Until then, I was the epitome of socially awkward – think 7th grader “galloping” around the PE yard whinnying like a horse.  Yeah.  That bad.  But as I entered high school I finally started realizing that there might be a bit more to the world than horses and I joined the school newspaper staff, the forensics club and a couple of Christian organizations.  (Hey, I never said I got any COOLER, I just developed a few more interests!)  I think we finally sold Fletcher when I was 16 or 17, which worked out really well because the lady who bought him kept him on base and she let me come ride him any time I wanted, so my Mom and I could still go on trail rides together.

Ready to go caroling on horseback!

I finally moved to Orlando to go to college (UCF!) when I was twenty, and I quickly found my way back into the world of horses.  One of the girls in my apartment complex took it upon herself to befriend me (thank God!) and introduced me to the rent-a-horse barn where she volunteered.  If you’ve never been to a rent-a-horse barn, don’t.  They are almost universally pitiful.  But I stuck around because these horses obviously NEEDED me, and also I got to ride for free.  I fell in love with the meanest mare there, and took it upon myself to buy special feed for her and pay for the farrier to put shoes on her and I begged and begged Frank (the owner and entrepreneur) to let me have or buy her.  Thankfully, he continually refused (I think he was expecting my parents to step in and make a big money offer) and the farrier, seeing how much I cared for this horse that didn’t even  belong to me, told me that his ex was trying to get rid of her horse – for FREE.

OK, I think that’s enough for one day….I’ll introduce you guys to Casper next time.  In the meantime, I’m still around…just playing with my horses!

Becki giving SIL pony rides - yesterday!

Having a blast,

Becki

Tagged as: childhood, freedom, horses