** UPDATE!: For horse and stable related content check my new equine blog here: J.B. Stables & Horses **
This page is dedicated to my two amazing horses, Adam and Madam. They are my first two horses who I love and treasure spending time together with. I acquired Madam, a mare and her son Adam in 2007 while in sixth grade. Since then I took on the responsibility of caring for them along with training Adam from a problem horse to a county fair entry.
Adam wearing his newest piece of tack. It is a bridle which converts to a halter by unclipping the bit and reins!
County Fair 2011
Adam stands in his stall at the fairgrounds shortly after arrival.
Adam and I showed in our first show together -the Horse Pleasure Walk/Trot class. We didn’t place but he rode very well for his first competition. I am so proud of him!
The Stable Story
I didn’t always show horses or have the opportunity to ride them as I do now. When I was young I believed I could have horses and be a horse jockey someday. I have a firm belief that persistence always pays off in the end, there is always something to be said for those who give their heart and souls into their dreams. Every day I strive to do just that -seize every opportunity possible and never feel completely disappointed in myself. After graduating from high school in 2013 I want to attend NARA, a college horse racing course in Kentucky. Chris McCarron, a former top horse jockey, teaches the program. I believe that I can go there if I keep working hard enough. I’ll never feel discouraged, however, because supporting me are two Quarter Horses holding the significance of everything in the world to me.
Hobos cannot live in cardboard boxes for their entire lives. Sooner or later they have to crawl out and walk around to find a more sustainable shelter. Under a bridge, a tunnel, or endlessly strolling through a 24-hour WalMart -anything built enough to suffice. If they choose to rely upon a cardboard dwelling they will find themselves in a soggy, wet mess. I will not be that hobo.
Thanks to Adam, I never will be. Back in my elementary school days I was a quiet, people-pleasing kid who blindly accepted every idea and command stated to my face. If someone told me to do something I answered with a “Yes”. I kept my distance from anyone I didn’t agree with and obeyed every one of my parents’ ideas like an electronically-programmed minion living in a box. I never questioned anyone equal to or higher than me. I earned excellent grades, completed my homework, and behaved politely ALL the time. Sometimes I feel as if I was raised in the 1960s, a traditional world where dad goes to work, mom stays at home, my sister and I living in an ordinary house and going to school like good little children. Only after the horses did I understand the importance of crawling out the cardboard box to meet the world I was living in.
Winter 2007 – Life Changes
I returned from school one winter afternoon. I grabbed “Crystal” my favorite toy composted of a stuffed horse’s head on the body of a stick, designed for kids to ‘ride’ on. She was my ‘racehorse’ at the time and I galloped her in endless circles around the house like a racetrack. I didn’t care if I looked dorky or ridiculous. She was the closest thing I had to my own horse. At a stable somewhat near my hometown I took riding lessons once a month. The past summer I attended horse camp for western riding. My grandfather owned horses too, so I did have a good amount of time spent with real horses. In the time I could not be around live horses, however, I was forced to accommodate with my imagination. I rode around the house pretending, as usual, that I was a jockey racing to the finish at the Mountaineer Racetrack.
When I tired from ‘riding’ I went back inside the house for a dinner of soup prepared by my mother. Dad returned home for work and joined us for dinner. The date was January 30, 2007 and nobody had a smile on their face. As I took a sip of noodle soup I heard dad announce to my sister and I that we weren’t going to be in school for Thursday and Friday. We looked up from our bowls as he continued, “Grandpa died”.