For My Non-Horsey Friends

Horse Crazy. For my non-horsey friends, this is a disease that can afflict young girls (boys are not immune, but it’s rare) during their childhood. It usually starts around 5 or 6, although it can appear earlier. Many affected girls are cured at puberty. (I suspect it may actually morph into another ailment, boy crazy, but that’s a different discussion.)

There are a rare few who never recover from the disease and spend their whole life afflicted by it.

Symptoms run the gamut from uncontrollable horse sketching on any free surface to incessant talking about all things equine. The horse crazy person has a distorted view of the universe; they insist that the horse is the center of all things.

My first horse memory is the sensation of my two year old body furiously rocking on a spring horse. It felt  like flying.

At 6, I constantly whinnied and neighed around the playground, holding a jump rope like they were reins. I wasn’t interested in the games the other kids were playing. I was Horse.

In 3rd grade I rushed to finish my work first so I could grab the room rocking chair and return to the current horse covered book I was reading. Any answer did. There were horses waiting for me. The teacher called my parents to discuss my erratic academic performance- it was 100% one day; zero the next.

I had Marguerite Henry dreams. I wanted to be Alec Ramsey’s girlfriend.

My mother hated horses. Okay, she may not have hated them, but she was terrified of them. She tried to ignore my disease, hoping it would cease to exist.

My classmate just decided I was crazy. My horse talk irritated them; they avoided me.

I was one of those who never recovered. In my fifties, not much has changed. I still sketch horses in the margins of my note book. I daydream during the day of the evening ride or the weekend full of trails. I talk incessantly about the little thing Jigs did the night before.

In short, I bore everyone with my obsession.

Last week at my staff meeting, I likened some office behavior to the current herd situation. (The herd leader had just moved to a new barn and the horses left were trying to figure out who was boss.) One of my new managers asked me, half kidding, if he needed to read up on horses. I looked at him puzzled for a moment. No, I said, before continuing  my theory about team and herd dynamics.

At that moment I crossed from horse crazy to just plain crazy. But, then, is there a difference?

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One Comment on “For My Non-Horsey Friends”

  1. Kristin Brænne Says:

    ★★★★★


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