A MATTER OF TRUST

A MATTER OF TRUST

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                                               December 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

I guess we all believe that we know about trust. I know I did. But until I began my journey with horses, I didn't realize how much I had to learn. I was of course familiar with the Webster definition:

Trust

n. Reliance on the truth, character, ability or strength of someone or something.

v. To place confidence in.

 

Early lessons in trust taught by Laura Ruben,
trainer, and OTTB Lola

From the beginning of my equestrian pursuits, I was forever being told to "trust my horse." Looking back, I had but little trust and it showed, mainly in my hands. I had what many a trainer called "the death grip." I didn't think I had the death grip. I thought I had a firm grip, and that a firm grip was warranted. It was the same grip I had used years ago in sailing my boat in a squall, and landing an airplane in a crosswind. A firm grip. A very, very firm grip.

But horses are not objects or machines to be controlled, they are parters with whom we collaborate. The casual observer could not have known that for me, the mere act of getting on a horse required a tremendous amount of faith. I loved horses and wanted more than anything to learn not only to ride them but to someday jump in competition. Fear held me back. I was scared of getting physically hurt, but I was perhaps more scared of falling short, of not being able to cut it as a middle aged beginner. I had enough faith in the person who put me on my first horse to allay some of my fears. From that faith developed trust. I chose to have faith in the person who said that I was going to be all right, and began to trust once I actually was, relatively, all right.

For much of my life, I thought that trust was one of those "nice-to-have" things that developed or didn't develop over time. Nice when it comes, but also okay if it doesn't. The extent to which trust developed or didn't develop merely changed the dynamics of the relationship. In taking up riding, I was to learn a different way to think..

In the pursuit of competence in riding, I found, for myself, that trust is a requirement in order to get past a level of mediocrity. My mind had been toying with that concept for a while, when a well-accomplished rider told me during a chance meeting in a discussion about training that one of the biggest problems he observed was students riding with trainers who they did not trust. "If you can't trust your trainer 100%, find a new one" was how he put it.  He sort of rocked my world.

In riding, I had always thought of trust in terms of trusting my horse. But his point made perfect sense. In attempting to make progress in riding, we are constantly asked to leave our comfort zone. If there is not full trust in the person doing the asking, I will question the request, perhaps doubting the person's knowledge, intent, caring or motivation. Once that happens, even a little bit, the process shifts from "listen-execute" to "listen-evaluate-analyze-judge-agonize-possibly execute." Not the pathway to success for a rider. It's much too complicated, while mounted and attempting to execute a challenging maneuver, to be second guessing the person who is teaching me. Once I do, the opportunity to be effective has passed, the horse is confused, I am disheartened and the trainer is frustrated.

Experiences like that sometimes caused me to question my ability to even learn. Perhaps I was too old, too uncoordinated, too egocentric. I thought that maybe things that I struggled with were incredibly complex and it was just beyond my ability to comprehend. Actually all that was missing was that I had not learned to trust. Once that changed, everything changed. Two words changed everything for me, once I trusted enough to believe them: "You're fine!" She feels like she wants to buck. "You're fine. You can ride out a buck." She's really building up speed. "You're fine. You know how to handle it." What if she stops at a fence again? "You're fine. You have a good seat." What if she drops a shoulder at the canter? "You're fine. You ride with your shoulders back and your heels down so nothing will happen" What was THAT? Multiple bucks, a spin, and the drop of a shoulder!! "Congratulations. You have just seen the absolute worst this horse has to offer, I promise you. And you survived. From now on, anything this horse does will at best please you or at worst amuse you because there is nothing she can do that you can't handle."

Powerful words, that I learned to actually believe. In a safe and supportive learning environment, I learned to trust my trainer 100% of the time, and my horse 90% of the time. We are working on the remaining 10%, but we are worlds away from where we once were, when I trusted only my own judgment and believed that everything required my utmost scrutiny.

The payoff comes in the form of a huge grin whenever I ride my off-the racetrack Thoroughbred mare Lola over a short course of fences in nothing but a halter and slack lead rope. She needed me to trust her enough to let her be the magnificent horse that she is. She couldn't do that with me wanting to be in control of her every freedom of movement. Who could?

In the past, I had feared a struggle, and my attempt to control something that had not yet happened actually created that which I had feared. It makes me wonder how many other things in life I had created or at least facilitated by my perceived need to control and my inability to trust.

Magnificence, it turns out, does not flourish in a stranglehold. On a horse or anywhere. This is a lesson that I could learn only from a horse. Silently uttered by every horse everywhere, and available for reference whenever we are ready, is much wisdom:

"To enter my world you must trust me with your heart.

To trust me so deeply you must first trust yourself.

For where we travel with our spirits entwined,

Will be on a path of trust.." - Anonymous

Archived stories are available at tcgequine.blogspot.com Email us at tcgequine@gmail.com, Tweet us @tcgelec, or friend us on Facebook.com/TomGumbrecht. Our gregarious Paint gelding, DannyBoy, is on Facebook also: facebook.com/TheWorldAccordingToDannyBoy

THERAPISTS ON FOUR HOOVES

THERAPISTS ON FOUR HOOVES

Originally published in Horse Directory, November, 2013

by Tom Gumbrecht


The other day I read with interest, followed by deep sadness, about a young girl in Canada named Lacey Jamieson who was an accomplished equestrian. To watch her riding or just interacting with her horses was to understand what the horse-human bond was all about. She had, more than I had before witnessed, attained the oneness between horse and rider that is the stuff of horsey dreams.

Lacey Jamieson (RIP) Her confidence radiated;
she continues to inspire...

That was not, however, Lacey's claim to fame. Lacey Jamieson was also gifted with the ability to take her love of horses and riding and put it into words so as to spread it as joy via her daily postings to tens of thousands of devoted followers on the social media site Instagram. Though still in high school, she offered sage advice and support to other students as well as young adults who found themselves facing some of life's toughest challenges. One of her frequent topics was bullying.

Having experienced bullying herself, she well knew the fear, low self-worth and depression that can accompany its victims on their daily journey. Lacey fought that off by throwing herself into her interactions with her horses. Last weekend, Lacey passed away suddenly as the result of a rare and undiagnosed blood disorder. It hurt my heart even though I never knew her, and I wanted to find out more about her.

In doing so, I uncovered a flood tide of love, respect and gratitude being shared in the moment, by some of her 60,000+ Instagram fans. And it made me think about how our horses are so perfectly adapted to assisting in the treatment of victims of things like bullying.

Diana O'Donnell of PonyStrides

No stranger to the value of the horse as therapist, my thoughts went to Pony Strides, the amazing and tireless effort of longtime friend Diana O'Donnell and the H.E.A.L.S. program (Hope with Equine Alternative Life Solutions) which I have not only observed but benefitted from personally.

Diana has championed the concept of using equines (in this case two miniature horses named QJ and Cooper) in a unique anti-bullying program which she offers in collaboration with Long Island school districts.  The minis facilitate activities and exercises stressing communication, team building, leadership and other qualities.

Inexplicably sometimes, the equines' mere presence can create a safe environment to talk about things that students would not normally talk about in groups of their peers, things like feelings, needing and offering support, and giving and receiving positive feedback in the roles they execute in the team exercises.

One such breakthrough witnessed at a recent session of intermediate school students saw two groups who would not ordinarily mix collaborate on an exercise with one of the miniature horses. The minis demanded that the participants communicate effectively with one another in order to successfully execute it. One student's reaction to the change precipitated by working closely toward a common goal with someone outside of their clique:

"We may not start hanging out together, but when we pass each other in the hall, we will know

QJ, Frankie, Cooper & Jamie

that we have each others' backs."

Indeed. A statement eloquent in its simplicity, which illustrates perfectly the effectiveness of the program.

For those of us no longer of school age, we know that everyone's life can be affected by bullying to one degree or another. It might be from a boss, a client, a government agency or anyone that holds some small authority over any little area of our lives. Everyone is susceptible. Speaking from my own experience, here are a few of the ways in which I have observed how horses can help both the bully and the bullied:

1) People who have been hurt tend to hurt other people. Horses tend to take away the hurt, just by being who they are: understanding, non-judgmental, loyal, and loving.

2) A characteristic of bullies can be false bravado. Horses respond to the true nature of a person, not who a person pretends to be. To be loved by a horse requires only for you to be who you are. They reward authenticity.

3) Horses are big! Nothing like having a big friend when dealing with a bully! Seriously, since they are so much bigger and stronger than we are, successful interaction with horses requires effective communication as opposed to threats and aggression. A new set of skills must be learned.

4) Horses respect deeply those who show respect to them. Being respected can be life-changing.  For some, both the bully and the bullied, it may be the first time respect has been experienced in a long while.

5) When handled with confidence, horses can be supremely confident. When we learn the skills to interact confidently with a horse, we become a member of a formidable team that exudes confidence. We do not leave that confidence at the stable, we bring it with us. And when we do, we are less attractive as a target for bullies.

Having a best friend that's huge is helpful!

Having that one special friend can make all the difference in matters of self-esteem, and self-esteem can make all the difference in the opportunities that life offers us. For myself, I love having horses as friends. It has changed the course of my life and brought only a positive influence to all of my human interactions. Robert Duncan said it best, in his "Ode to the Horse:"

"Where in this world can you find
Friendship without envy
Beauty without vanity
Nobility without conceit
A willing partner yet no slave..."

I find it every day one hundred steps from my back door in a stable I have the privilege of sharing with some of my very best friends.

Archived stories are available on www.tcgequine.blogspot.com. Visit us on Facebook: Tom Gumbrecht
To find out more about Diana O'Donnell and her innovative programs at Pony Strides, visit www.ponystrides.com

Crystelle Salimbene with Bella. She is gifted with
with an ability to communicate effectively
with horses..

THE MAKING OF A MAN

THE MAKING OF A MAN

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                                OCTOBER 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

It's not unusual to read about how life with horses can help to develop many positive character traits in young people. I can bear witness to that concept, having read and even written about some amazing transformations observed from the vantage point of the horse barn. But this really isn't about young people. 

From the time that I was a child I, like most young boys, became aware of that largely

"Courage is being scared to death, and saddling up anyway"
John Wayne

undefinable but very real quality known as "being a man," and set out on a convoluted journey to achieve it. It began with smoking, drinking with the guys, and building fast cars. It progressed to things like working in construction, flying airplanes, learning to jump out of them, extreme off-roading; always finding new ways to indulge in risk taking to a degree that I hoped would earn me that elusive title. But as much I pursued it, it always seemed to stay just out of reach.

I met the first horse I would eventually ride, Circus, while on an electrical construction project at a Long Island show barn. I became quite attracted to the horse, the riding, and horse people. It didn't fit the mold of what I decided was "manly" but two things happened: 1) I was developing a passion for horses and horsemanship to a degree that it would not be derailed by preconceived notions and 2) I had gotten a little older (ok, a lot older) and didn't care as much how people perceived me.

It was as if I had given up on my pursuit of the ultimate manly activity in order to follow the path on which my heart was taking me. In doing so, I discovered completely new definitions of what it was to be a man, as taught to me in what would ultimately become my own barn and by my own small herd of horses.

I learned the difference between controlling and cooperating. Airplanes are to be controlled,

The author's OTTB mare, Lola. Partners, not master and servant.

and that's what my life was about at the time I was actively flying them. Horses are about cooperation, I was to learn, sometimes painfully. Imposing my own will only works for a little while, with horses.

I learned how it is to truly put the needs of another being above my own. I had payed lip service to the concept in the past, but never owned it. I learned powerlessness and what it feels like to just do the best I can, without any knowledge of what the ultimate result will be. I learned how to let go when letting go was the right thing to do.

I learned that "my way or the highway" does not fly with horses, and in learning that, I learned that it does not work very well with the humans in my life either. I learned, to a large extent, to ignore transgressions and not take them personally, and to be generous in rewarding when compliance is attempted. 

I had sought out experiences to make me appear aggressive and brave, as I thought those were the makings of a man. The horse does not care how you appear, for he knows what lurks in your soul and responds to only that. In horsemanship, we become honest or fail. I

DannyBoy taught me the ways of the horse.

was taught all about honesty by these beings that live in a world that knows no other way, and found that total honesty in dealing with others requires more courage than aggression or threats.

I wanted to excel in my horsemanship, and in doing so I was forced to live in their world, the world of the here and now. Moving forward required letting go of the past and not obsessing about the future, and I eventually had to learn a new way if I were to achieve that elusive oneness with my horse.

I learned to be playful and silly with these giant playmates who required no mind altering substances to facilitate it, and I learned to take time for the things I loved. I discovered that if you are lucky enough to uncover and pursue a passion in life, then you are lucky enough. 

Most of all, I rediscovered my belief that there is a power greater than myself, and horses are all the evidence I need that he wants me to be happy. To aid me in my struggle, he used horses to help me to become the man he wanted me to be.

Archived stories are available at tcgequine.blogspot.com.  Visit us on Facebook: Tom Gumbrecht and Twitter: @tcgelec  Email us at tcgequine@gmail.com. 

PROFILE: L.D. NORSK, ESW

PROFILE: L.D. NORSK, ESW   

Originally published in Horse Directory,                                                September 2103

by Tom Gumbrecht

Bella checks her appointment calendar...

L.D., as in La Dorada. La Dorada Norsk. That's what the name on the paper says, although we know her around the barn as "Bella." A horse of letters, ESW in Bella's case stands for "Equine Social Worker."

You need not know if Bella participates in your insurance plan, because she dispenses her brand of psychology free of charge. You will however be subject to a pre-session screening by the studied mare herself:

First, you must demonstrate that you can put aside any preconceived notions of therapy you may

The doctor will see you now...

foster, including any reservations about working with a therapist who appears to want to bite you. She doesn't really want to bite you, but may appear to if you fail to respect her space, respect her qualifications or attempt to move the relationship forward at a pace not of her own choosing.

It is well-reported that the latest musings in Psychology Today reinforce the belief that the best psychologists offer no advice at all; they merely listen and empower you to find your own solution. You will find in your session with Bella (she prefers to be called Bella) that she will indeed offer no advice at all. You may talk for as long as you need to, and she will listen, riveted to your every word. Or you can not talk at all and she will understand anyway. Your choice.

Second, you must attain a degree of humility before being accepted into a session. You must understand the value of being chosen by a horse who does not choose everyone. Being chosen by Bella is in itself an empowering phenomenon; whatever you are going through, this horse has gone through more and come out the other side intact. To be trusted enough to be accepted into her world is a thrill, a privilege and an honor.

So much for doctor- patient confidentiality...

We recently observed the session of a friend who returned to see Dr. Bella after life hurled a series of challenges his way. He had experienced several of life's more injurious setbacks concurrently and his first informal session (he had stopped by as I was mucking stalls) was understandably focused almost entirely outward, which is what we do in an attempt to seek comfort in blaming others for the predicaments we find ourselves in. Our friend was experiencing feelings of low self-worth and Bella went to work to rebuild that shattered image. As he was not yet able to look inwardly, he missed a lot of what was being proffered at the time. But at the core he knew that being in the presence of the mare eased the pain; he just hadn't as yet acknowledged it.

He sensed there was medicine in that barn though, and asked to return with a new awareness of the power a horse can have to heal simply by demonstrating their acceptance. This time, his reflections included seeing his part in the losses he had recently suffered, which is an important step and a necessary one before healing can begin. There was a calmness displayed where despair and hopelessness had once resided. Bella rewarded and reinforced his new insight by keeping her nose pressed into his chest for extended periods of time during his soul-bearing dissertation. She made it safe for him to take ownership of his problems.

Her silent counsel seemed to convey, "I am a creature many times more powerful than you. I am neither politically correct nor a people pleaser. Some might say I am blunt. But I am honest. I choose when and who to lend my time and my support to. And I have chosen you."   

The only thing better than being chosen by a horse, is perhaps bearing witness to the power a horse has to transform the life of another.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

A HORSEMAN LOOKS AT SIXTY

A HORSEMAN LOOKS AT SIXTY

 Originally published in Horse Directory August, 2013

 By Tom Gumbrecht

 I've been hearing a lot of the platitudes lately. "It's just a number." Well, it is just a number, yes, but it's a fairly large one, and it's evenly divisible by ten. "You're only as old as you feel." I don't feel old at all, most of the time. Except when I have put my date of birth on a form. "Sixty is the new forty."

Lola, my OTTB mare, keeps me young..

No it isn't. Sixty is still sixty. However, except for some occasional minor joint pain, in many ways I feel better than I did at forty. The thing is, in the horse world, 60 is not a big deal. Having begun my riding career at age 45, I feel like an "experienced novice" in many ways. I have many friends and aquaintences who have demonstrated that a riding life can go on long after 60 is a faint memory. So why the concern with this particular number? Because I was, in a word, unprepared.

Numbers, and all they represent, have never concerned me much, so based on experience I believed this one would be no different. It was, though, a little bit different. At sixty, I am just at the point where I'm really comfortable jumping a horse, the point where it's no big deal and I can work on perfecting the subtleties. That's been a long road, and I found myself wondering if I have enough time left to get really good at it, or did I start too late? I began to ponder my next horse, if there would even be a next horse! My herd now is a young one. If I were to get another, would that horse outlive me? Or are these my last horses?

DannyBoy gave me a few grey hairs.. and blue ribbons!

 I never considered that before. I found myself being more concerned with the mathematics of things, and shocked by the results of my mental equations, so I went to where I go when life no longer makes sense: to the barn. I never really think about it, but age hardly exists in the barn; I suppose that's because there is no such thing as age to a horse. They are pretty much OK with doing whatever their bodies are capable of doing that day, and adapt to it almost immediately. They are grateful for having their basic needs met and can be happy in the moment they are experiencing because they are not concerned with what tomorrow's moments may bring.

 To live in the moment, to experience each moment fully and not live in the moments of yesterday or tomorrow.. that is what we have been struggling to achieve for a long time, and what our horses already know inherently. We seek knowledge in words and books; the horses carry it in their blood and bones, and are more than happy to share it with anyone who will take the time to learn their language. Perhaps that is why God decided I should have a horse...

Best friends with a racehorse.. life is good!

Friend us on Facebook: Tom Gumbrecht, Twitter: @tcgelec, or email us at tcgequine@gmail.com

Jim Rice: The Measure of a Man

Jim Rice: The Measure of a Man                                      

Originally published in Horse Directory July, 2013

By Tom Gumbrecht

Jimmy Rice was my onetime trainer, and my friend. His bio states that he was the first junior rider in history to win twenty USET medals. He trained with the legendary Jack LeGoff and the USET in Gladstone, riding in such acclaimed venues as Madison

Jim Rice in the prime of his show career.

Square Garden, Philadelphia Spectrum, and Harrisburg, in a successful hunter/ jumper show career.

His training career was an illustrious one as well. Jim trained many winning horses and riders to the highest levels of competition, as well as being a respected horse show judge and the manager of the Hunters Isle and Winner’s Circle USEF- licensed horse show series.

Jim Rice was one who gave back to his sport, volunteering his time in local as well as national equestrian organizations. He received many honors, which included the 2011 Hampton Classic Horseman of the Year and the USHJA President’s Distinguished Service Award the same year. He was an accomplished professional.

But that’s not the man I knew.

In 1999 I was a fledgling adult student who had been forced to leave his comfort zone. I had begun riding at my first barn (a stable around the corner from Red Barn) a year earlier, and had become acclimated to the trainer, the horses and the other riders there. After my first year, the farm was sold; trainer, riders and horses all went their

A tough man who lived by a
code of kindness

separate ways and I thought my “equestrian” life was over. Then I met Jim Rice.

The first thing I noticed about Jim was that I was getting something I wasn’t used to, as a rank beginner, getting from trainers: respect. Jim didn’t feel the need to focus on or point out my myriad shortcomings as a rider. Instead, he searched for the positive and used that as a base from which to proceed. I was not at all accomplished, and frequently not even coordinated. I had, though, developed a secure enough seat that I could stay with a fresh horse, and I had found within myself a love of horses that carried me through many of the frustrations that an older rider faces. Lastly, I was dedicated. I always suited up, and I always showed up, no matter what. That was the sum total of my qualities as a horseman.

For Jim, that was enough. Wherever I was in my training level was fine; we worked from there, upward. Jim inherently realized that an adult rider faces different challenges, one of which is ego. Many adult riding students have positions with a high level of expertise outside the riding arena. In learning horsemanship, we have to begin by being bad at what we do, and that can be tough on the ego. Jim knew that, and his own ego was small enough that he never felt the need to make himself appear better by demeaning his student.  I was an inexperienced, overweight, sometimes fearful rider with two left feet.  All I wanted to do was ride horses, and perhaps one day jump one over a crossrail. That was my goal.

Jimmy combated my frustration with his kindness. He gave me respect I hadn’t earned, and instilled in me a confidence I didn’t deserve. He got me over that crossrail, and then a vertical, and eventually a whole jumper course.  More importantly, he set the standard by which I would judge all future trainers.

Some years later, when I had my own barn and had done a long stint as a horse show

Laura Ruben guides CarynEve Murray down the road
Jim Rice paved with the perfect balance of
toughness and kindness.

dad, I started training again with young trainer Laura Ruben who had adopted, perhaps unconsciously, many of Jim’s training methods and way of being. One of my most treasured moments as a horseman was when we competed at Hunter’s Isle one Sunday, and we managed to get around just a little quicker than the others in the jumper ring. We were handed a ribbon and it was blue. Jimmy happened to be at his frequent post outside the show secretary’s office, and caught a glimpse. He stopped his busy horse show manager’s activity for just a moment and looked right at me. His eyes lit up and a smile cracked; he said nothing because he didn’t have to. His eyes said it all.

Laura’s reflections on Jim’s passing:

“As I was on my way to mourn the loss of one of the best people I ever had the privilege of knowing, I kept replaying how we met in my head. We had just moved to Red Barn and I was extremely intimidated by the big, quiet man that sat on the same spot on the fence and drank Diet Coke no matter of the time, with his adorable dog beside him. It took a week or so and I finally decided he wasn't so intimidating after all and shortly after I realized that this man was someone who would impact me for life. From Roxy sitting to job references, JR (as I always called him) taught me what it really meant to be kind for no reason other than to be kind, respect, to work for what you want, and how to handle those who cannot communicate with words. He always told me "to toughen up" and he lived out those very words until the end. JR you will continue to shine through all the lives that you have truly touched and we are all incredibly blessed to have had you as a part of our lives.”

A proud moment for the author:
Winning our first blue at Hunters Isle with Jim Rice
smiling his approval.

On the afternoon of the day that Jimmy Rice was laid to rest, a friend and fellow adult student was taking a guest lesson at our barn with Laura. The lesson proved to be a challenging one, taking her just outside of her comfort zone. With just the perfect blend of toughness and kindness, horse and rider were coached into sailing over the barriers, both the physical ones as well as the sometimes tougher mental ones. It was a “light bulb” experience for the rider, and that was all the evidence I needed to be aware that Jimmy Rice lives on through his influence on the lives he had touched.

 JR, your kindness is truly immortal.

Archived articles are available to view at tcgequine.blogspot.com. Also visit us on Facebook: Tom Gumbrecht and Twitter: @tcgelec

The Father's Day Card

The Father’s Day Card                                                                             

Originally published in Horse Directory, June 2013

I’m a selfish oaf. Oh, I often set things up so that I can appear to be selfless, but hidden underneath there is always a glaring self-interest. I sometimes hide it better than others, but it’s there. I do for others, but I am secretly always seeking acknowledgement.

I confess that I have hated the month of June for some time. For the past ten years we

Horse show dads get to celebrate victories.
Here, with Sheila Rodgers at Good Shepherd.

 have raised our niece Sam, whose mother died suddenly when she was only 12 years old. This tragedy befell our family soon after we established our little backyard horse farm that we call Dreamcatcher.  Mary and I had been childless up to that point, and for me, horses were the catalyst for a sometimes clumsy relationship between a sensitive, tough-yet-fragile beautiful spirit and a willing but clueless older uncle with an agenda. I gladly took on the responsibility for Sam, for which I received many kudos for my generosity and dedication. But on a late June Sunday every year, I looked for an acknowledgement that never came. I looked for a Father’s Day card.

Now fortunately, a few years ago I adopted a healthier lifestyle, one of the benefits of which has been the gift of clarity.  I have come to see many things that happen in my daily life as lessons.  In my business as an electrician, I try to be loyal to my clients and I value loyalty in return. On every circuit breaker panel and fusebox in most homes, there is a sticker with the name of the last electrician that provided service. It is always a source of pride when I visit a client and see an old version of my sticker on their panel, perhaps from 25 years ago or more.

One such client, Mrs. R, had a panel in a more conspicuous place than most, which normally reside in dusty basements or garages. Since it was visible in her living

We also get to be there when the day doesn't
go exactly as planned.

space, I asked permission to put my sticker over that of a long-forgotten electrician who hadn’t been there in a long time. Mrs. R. would always say, “Oh, give it to me and I’ll put it on. I want to clean the cover first”. She never would, and it always irked me on return visits to see someone else’s name on “my” panel. Yet, I was the one she always called. No one else had touched anything remotely related to the electrical system in her home in many years. I had had all the benefits, but without the acknowledgement I had been seeking.  It bothered me until I was able to see the situation through different eyes: she had her own reasons for keeping that sticker there, which were frankly none of my business.

My horsey lifestyle with Sam, although not without its ups and downs, has carried with it the three elements of happiness: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. As a fledgling parent, a horse-show “dad”, driving instructor, chauffer, confidante, coach, ATM, sounding board, crying towel, and cheerleader and all the other things that come under the heading of ‘parent”, I have had a life of purpose which otherwise would have eluded me, one that has given me those three essential elements many times over: not a duty; truly a privilege. Available to me only because she has, like our unendingly patient horses, given me unlimited second chances when I mess up.

In my narrow-mindedness, I was looking for a piece of paper with a store- bought sentiment as an acknowledgement.  Instead, she chose me to share her whole life with. I was looking for the label. I had already been given the job.  Every horse-show dad already knows what I have only recently discovered.  I’m the last one to figure out things, sometimes, it seems. 

But, I eventually do. Happy Father’s Day, dads.

Perhaps a slow week for news back in 2007
 prompted fellow equestrian Caryn Eve Murray to
 write this story for Newsday which included
Sam and myself.

 

One of the perks: an awesome riding buddy!

GYPSY

GYPSY

By Tom Gumbrecht

Originally published in Horse Directory,  May 2013

It seems that where there are horse barns, there are feral cats. We started out in 2000, the year we
built our barn, with two, rescued from beneath the stairs at Samantha’s elementary school; they
were in dire straits as their mother was no longer there to care for them. Bottle-fed, neutered and
vaccinated, they became the first residents of the barn at Dreamcatcher Farm. Over the years others
wandered in from time to time. Despite several effective plans to control their “multiplication”, a
new cat still occasionally shows up and blesses us with her litter.

Gypsy and friend... the two moms.

We do what we can. The population is transient, and after our first two lived out their lives, I had
never named another feral. Never, that is, until a very special cat came along who we eventually
named Gypsy. Gypsy tested the waters for a few weeks by coming into the barn for seconds, then
minutes, at a time. Sensing safety, before long, she was sitting alongside me as I had my morning
coffee in the barn. That was the sum total of our interaction until one evening when she made the
unfortunate decision to traverse our backyard which is competently patrolled by our three large dogs.
Most cats can easily outrun our dogs but something had slowed her down on this occasion. I pulled
her out of the mouth of one of our dogs, and by her condition, was shocked when she bolted away,
not to be seen again for several days.

I caught a fleeting glimpse of her behind the barn, literally dragging her hind end around behind
her. As she collapsed, I could see that she was giving birth to what turned out to be a stillborn litter.
Attempts were made to patch her up and trap her, but she would always elude them, and disappear
for days at a time. I assumed it was because she was too sick, and knew it. When she didn’t appear for
several weeks, I said a silent prayer while looking out into the woods.

Lola wants to be a mom to the kittens also..

One day, while I was having my coffee in the tack room, the still unnamed feral unceremoniously
walked in, looking healthy and alert, and took her familiar place by my side as my jaw dropped in
awe. It dropped even further when some months later, she had another litter after it had been
deemed medically impossible. Of all places, she chose to give birth in a corner of the stall belonging
to Bella, our Arabian mare who had perhaps the least tolerance for small furry things as any horse in
the barn. Sensing danger, I carefully moved them one by one to a prepared bed in the tackroom. And
one by one, she brought them back into Bella’s stall. Not once but twice, and the next day I no longer
saw them there and feared the worst. My routine took me into the stall of our large paint horse,
DannyBoy and I saw the tiny kittens on the side of the stall of this 1,200 lb. giant who chased felines
around the paddock regularly for sport. And yet both horses had made sure that the kittens remained
safe. Later, the mother moved the kittens one by one onto the top of a high cabinet in the tackroom,
and ultimately back to the bed I had prepared. She accepted my offer, though on her terms, and
earned the name “Gypsy”.

Surprise! A drawer full of kittens!

The kittens were not well, and did not survive past a couple of days, and she mourned their passing
but not for long. Two other kittens whose mother had passed while giving birth were found in the
woods by Gypsy and brought back to the tackroom where she raised them as her own until they were
adopted out. And so Gypsy’s career as a surrogate mother to any and all who needed her, began.

She would go out and patrol the surrounding woods and bring back anything feline in need of a
mother. The remarkable became routine, until one day it became incredible. A feral wandered in
and had a litter on a stack of saddle pads, and then abandoned them. Gypsy stepped up and waited
for me to prepare a bed, which she assumed I would, and brought them one by one into the safety it
afforded. With a “mother” unable to nurse, we assumed that this would be a bottle-fed litter, but the
kittens’ mother had a change of heart and came back to check on her family. Far from being cause for
a “custody battle,” Gypsy saw it as a chance to become a mother’s helper.. . furnishing warmth, love,
mothering advice and support while the natural mother provided milk. Often the kittens are wedged
in between the two “moms,” who have become inseparable best friends as well.

A few days later, a third mom added two more kittens to the communal kitten-bassinet. This one
was a bit skittish, and within a day all but two of the kittens had disappeared. Gypsy stood on
the tackroom countertop with her head down for a long while, depressed, I had assumed, by the
disappearance of her charges. I had assumed wrongly. She had been indicating to me that there
was something amiss in the drawer below. I hadn’t picked up on the clue until I needed to retrieve
something from the drawer, and there were seven kittens staring up at me when I opened it! The
skittish mom had found a way through the back of the cabinet, to create her own feline safe deposit
box!

With a look in my direction somewhere between gratitude and impatience, Gypsy carried the babies
one by one to the safety and comfort of their bed. When the skittish mother cat returned, there was
no admonishment from Gypsy, just an outpouring of love and support.

Miracles, Gypsy has showed us, do indeed happen. A barn is home to many if you’re looking for
them…

Archived previous stories are available at www.tcgequine.blogspot.com
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Or on Twitter: @tcgelec.

Charlie Hustle

“Charlie Hustle”                                                                                                                             

 by Tom Gumbrecht                    Originally published in Horse Directory..

Pete Rose, the original "Charlie Hustle"

DannyBoy takes over the title...

Pete Rose was, and is, of course, a legendary baseball player who spent most of his Major League career at first base for the Cincinnati Reds. He seemed to always give 150%, and his nickname, "Charlie Hustle", could only begin to suggest the immense dedication, intensity, motivation, pure skill, talent and athleticism that makes his name synonymous with all of those character traits. On the field, I can't think of a teammate you'd rather have.

Off the field, of course, was a different story. He seemed unable, perhaps unwilling, to stay out of trouble. From all outward appearances a brash, cocky, self-absorbed man, his questionable choices caused the World Series MVP and Gold Glove winner to be deemed permanently ineligible to participate in his sport. Off the field, he may have been a guy who would have been difficult to be friends with. The self-destructive type. But no matter how much shame he brought upon himself and his sport, I include myself in a sizable group, perhaps even a majority, that still reveres his name as the ultimate go-getter, and his talent and motivation as something to be awed.

Recently, I've been back riding my young eventing horse, DannyBoy, after the usual winter layoff due to frozen footing and other cold-weather obstacles. It takes me a few weeks to shake the cobwebs off of him at this time every year, to get his body and mind back on track to compete in the horse trials.

DannyBoy is a natural athlete. He has saved my hide in so many circumstances I've

Look where you're going, Danny, not always at the camera..

lost count. He gives and gives and gives until he just can't give anymore. In a word: exuberant. He loves to work, loves his job. I'm convinced he would walk through fire for me, for us, for the team...he is just so willing and giving that sometimes I get chills at the responsibility of managing such devotion. That is, in the arena...

Out of the arena, he's our little backyard farm's bad boy. He's into everything. Snatching blankets off the other horses backs, running around the paddock with the sweater you foolishly left on tack trunk streaming out of his teeth..until he tramples it...it's all in a day's work. Removing a bungee-corded fire extinguisher from the wall and hurling it into the paddock, nipping at the jacket of an unsuspecting visitor...biting at the flank of a pasturemate...all just a sampling of his off-field persona. With, of course, the requisite "who, me?" look after he's been discovered. He's a bull in a china shop. A goofball. The vet calls him a "goon".
 

In show season, his little antics lessen as his mind is occupied with other things, and when he thinks up some mischief, he might be just tired enough so as to not carry it out. His wonderful demeanor under saddle more than makes up for his antics, which at once seem almost endearing.

In winter time, however, it seems like we get all the bad with none of the good. His youthful exuberance and his devilish ways of expressing it can grow tiring. Just when I think we can't take another day of it, one morning we hear the song of a single bird, then a few more, then the ring starts thawing, the blankets come off and we're back to doing the things that made me love him in the first place.

Well, he's not really Pete Rose. We're not the Cincinnati Reds, and this isn't the World Series. A better analogy perhaps would be of the little league star who gives his all for the team, and when not on the field drives his parents crazy with blowing up stuff, prank phone calls, schoolyard scrapes and detention.

Charlie Hustle. Everybody knows one. I've got one. An overgrown kid who's impossible to stay mad at.  Truth be told, I love him even when he is being a goon.

The deal: I put up with him, he makes me look good..

Perhaps more....