Lessons From Penn State

Lessons From Penn State                                                                 

Originally posted as an editorial comment in Horse Directory, December, 2011

By Tom Gumbrecht

 Surely every human being not totally isolated from the outside world has experienced some kind of strong reaction to the recent sexual abuse scandal at Penn State University.
For most it may be outrage, disgrace, or disgust. Some may experience the pain of reopening old wounds from their own childhood. For many it might be fear of the unspeakable happening to their own children.

We involved in equine sport can perceive ourselves to exist as somewhat of an island amidst the sea of other athletic pursuits. But are we in fact exempt from human failings? When a young person finds a connection with a horse, a passion can be unlocked which is often life-changing. Those who work with our children can be thought of, often rightly, as facilitators of miracles, by student and parent alike. 

We are fortunate to be able to provide our children exposure to a sport that is full of wonderful people dedicated to creating a rewarding and positive experience for them. To bear witness to the process is inspiring, joyful and fulfilling.

To that, we add vigilance. As parents, it's our job to create an environment in which a child feels it is safe to tell us if someone they trust has done something to make them or someone they know, uncomfortable...even a miracle worker.

Hopefully, the lesson of Penn State will be that no one is beyond reproach.

Thomas Gumbrecht

Fort Salonga, NY

Larger Than Life

LARGER THAN LIFE                                                                                                                           

 Originally published in Horse Directory, January 2012

By Thomas Gumbrecht

Thomas G. “Tommy”  Fernan,  1962-2011, was my cousin through marriage.  You likely didn’t know him, because although raised on Long Island he hadn’t lived here for many years. His only connection to the horse world that I know of, was his relationship to me.

The words of his eulogy are still with me from today’s funeral mass: he was larger than life, a mountain of a man; a former NYPD officer, football player, bodybuilder and power lifter.  He was powerful, tough, fearless, and self assured.  He was an athlete who went out to win, if he went out at all.  He rarely asked for an opinion because he trusted his own. I liked him and enjoyed seeing him on holidays and special occasions, but I couldn’t really relate to him because basically, he was everything I was not. I never felt uncomfortable around him, though, because he never made me feel that way. But we lived in different worlds.

In 2005, I acquired DannyBoy, a very solidly built APHA gelding with lots of attitude.  Danny transformed me from a casual rider to a committed competitor in Horse Trials, and later Jumpers.  He was powerful, tough, fearless, and self-assured.  He showed up to win.  He didn’t ask for your opinion, he just needed a clear instruction of what you needed him to do. The “how” was up to him, and he was usually right. His world was different from mine also but as I was the one on his back during his displays of bravery and acumen, he carried me into his.

I believe it was on Thanksgiving in 2006 that Tommy and DannyBoy first met.  After dinner, he asked to go down to the barn and see our horses, as was his custom.  I happily obliged, but always thought that the request was a concession to his children T.J. and Taylor.  Kids love horses, and Tommy indulged his children’s interests.  When DannyBoy met Tommy, he bulldozed his way past the other horses to get his attention.  That was his way. Tommy took to him immediately, and showed a side of himself with which I was not familiar.  His quiet way and gentle touch with Danny belied his public persona.  He knew just how to be, and what to do, instinctively.  Words were never necessary, just a knowing nod from a man and a bow of the head from a horse who bowed to no one. Enforcer meets terminator. They were equals, and neither had anything to prove to the other. They had each other’s number.  They were connected.

From that day forward, whenever Tommy brought his family to our home, his first stop after the required pleasantries to the humans, was the barn.. “How’s that paint horse”? he would ask. “Go see”, I would reply. “He’s waiting for you”.  More than a horse-human bond was forming during those visits.  A connection was forming between Tommy and me, two guys as different as anyone might imagine.  An unspoken connection, of course, but he knew and understood a part of my world, and I understood a part of his.  I saw the man in a different light since then.

I’m sorry that Tommy left this life too soon, but I will always be happy for the opportunity we had to get to know each other better that was made possible by our mutual connection to a horse who was also…. larger than life.

Tommy Fernan with son T.J.