Hope, Horses, and Divorce

       In the last post, I alluded to some personal issues that had kept me away from blogging this summer.  Most significantly, I have just finished moving into an apartment leaving behind my home of eight years, my wife of 11 years, and our three year old daughter.  The move was not my idea, but maybe it will turn out for the best – I don’t know.  The situation is no one’s fault, but divorce seems impossible to avoid at this point.

Sunday was moving day and before I left the house for the last time I chose to drive out to my friend’s farm to get some vegetables, see Golden Frontier, and see if that saying about the outside of a horse being good for the inside of a man was true.  George had said that Golden had recovered from his injury and was probably two weeks away from returning to the track.  I had swiped some peppermints from restaurants for him and was looking forward to spending some time with him before he returned to the track.

When I arrived, the paddock was empty.  Golden had returned to the track early to make room in the paddock for a newly weaned foal.  It would not be the first disappointment of the day and it wouldn't be the last.  Still I found hope there.  I found hope in the fact that Golden had healed with time and care.  I found hope in time and rest healing all wounds.  I found hope in the fact that Golden might be able to regain his form, and hope is a good thing.

While Golden was gone, there were still some residents of the farm who were more than happy to eat the mints earmarked for him. 

The newly weaned foal had been moved into a paddock with Hold the Salt who is sporting the fly mask in the above photo.  Salty is a retired, speedy son of Salt Lake who set several track records as sprinter/miler a few years ago.  (Despite both being sprinters, it is amazing to me how different Golden and Salty are built.  To give you some perspective, I have taken all photos on the blog standing at six feet two inches.  I look down at Salty and up at Golden.) 

At ten years of age, he seems to be enjoying his well-deserved retirement and has taken to looking after the weanling.  As second careers go, mentoring the next generation of race horses isn’t a bad one.  While F. Scott Fitzgerald said there are no second acts in American lives, Salty appears to have found his second act.  And I figured if he can do it, then I can do it too.  And so, for about an hour I fed the horses some mints, pulled some green grass from the other side of the fence to hand feed them, and did not think about my apartment, the divorce, or anything else.  This was relief, and it reminded me that the horse industry is based on hope.  

You hope the mating you planned produces a healthy foal, that the foal goes on to sell well or shows talent when training, and you hope that your horse crosses the wire first.  As a fan, you watch the race hoping your bet will win or that you will be amazed at the courage and effort after the race.  You hope you see a race like Rachel Alexandra's win in the Kentucky Oaks where fans watching the simulcast at Keeneland applauded after the race ended. You hope to see a horse as talented as Lost in the Fog set a track record at Turf Paradise from out of nowhere.  The more we fight over suspensions, breakdowns, drug positives, and knock down drag out fights over Lasix, the further we get away from hope and we lose something important and essential.  So I continue to hope...