Watch this space, the plan is to chronicle horse experience...
Long story REALLY short, I adopted an OTTB a handful of years ago, Boomer is now his BFF, and I've moved to the wild and woody mountains of WV.
This should be fun.
In 1966, beloved children's author Marguerite Henry wrote Mustang- Wild
Spirit of the West, in which she chronicled the journey of Wild Horse Annie
and her fight to save the mustangs from extinction. Frank T. Hopkins and his
beloved mustang, Hidalgo, worked toward similar purpose before her.
I was two, and already horse crazy. I grew up on these marvelous stories,
gritty Louis L'Amour books, and others to be equally fond of. As a teen, I spent
my summers on the back of a cutting horse that I dearly loved. I knew in my
heart that America was the most wonderful place to live, and richer because
of our equine friends and those who spoke for them, without whom, the
development of our nation would have been quite a different story.
In March of 2006, I was standing in a winery in Old Town Spring (Texas)
with my sister when I learned that I had been deceived all my life. The
horses have been betrayed. My heart might heal, but their lives remain in peril
even today. Until that day, I hadn't any idea that horse slaughter continued
in this country.
I challenge you to tell your children- or perhaps grandchildren- the truth
about why the noble, intelligent steed of their daydreams, movies, books,
and vital importance to our nation's history are so brutally treated.
Explain if you will, what likely happened to their show pony when he was
stolen, or the racehorse they rooted for. Why we put up statues, paint
portraits of them, and then send them to a horrific death. Share with them
why horses wind up on dinner plates overseas, when we don't eat horsemeat in
this country. Explain why foreign owned companies are operating at high
profits when this activity is not allowed in their own country. Dare to let
them know that not only are the "protected" mustangs not, that NO horse in
this country is safe from the auction and captive bolt. Speak to them about why
organizations that should be up in arms about this support it
enthusiastically, right along with over-breeding. Explain what a
Premarin/Prempro mare and her foal are. Why they are.
Tell them why officials elected to positions intended to represent their
constituents allow this uncivilized brutality to continue unchecked, despite public
outcry. Explain the stench in the air, the stains on the Earth in DeKalb, Kaufman,
and Dallas. Chronicle this for your children and grandchildren and do so with
pride. It is, after all, your legacy, too.
Know that when you’re through explaining, the nasty truth remains the same.
The horse, it seems, has made a grave error in trusting such "civilized"
humans. Yet he continues to do so with a loving heart. He can teach us much,
if we will only listen. I long for the day this nightmare ends, and ask you to
assist in the effort toward the end of this abomination. I will then again be able to
hold my head up when I explain where I'm from.
Labels: Animal Welfare
One bright Saturday morning, you get up and decide to check email before you get to laundry and myriad other chores. You push the power button on the computer and up comes the Blue Screen of Death. At first, you think it’s no big deal and you try to reboot it. Nope, it’s gone. Okay, plan B, talk to a friend who knows a bit more than you do about this gadget you use on a daily basis. Still not too worried, but by now it’s been a couple of days and you realize you forgot to respond to an email or finish setting up a new account somewhere.
Your friend gives you the bad news. A couple of sectors in your hard drive perish. What does that mean, you wonder? It means you don’t have to worry about that email you forgot to respond do, it’s in Neverland now. As are all your other emails, contacts, etcetera.
Now, you’ve had about a week to really let things sink in and you begin to recall things you’d downloaded, saved, and meant to backup on your computer (but, of course, hadn’t yet). Oh crap, I've got everything on there! Withdrawals and a wee bit of panic set in as you wait to find out the verdict on whether or not your buddy has been able to recover any of your information. You consider that, in the event your machine gets up and going again, you’ve got 7 hours worth of critical updates waiting at Microsoft (because you have dialup, of course). And then there are all of your programs to reload.
In a moment of pure paranoia (likely somewhere in the 2 a.m. area on a weeknight), you start to wonder what would happen if your bank experienced this and you couldn’t get to your directly deposited check or your automatically withdrawn payments on everything. Your debit card dinna work and oops! You wrote your last check last month and forgot to order more (because you hardly ever use them anymore). Not only do you miss your computer and all your cyber-hangouts, you feel guilty because in the big scheme of things, your wee computer with it’s little databank isn’t all that much to lose. Or is it?
We’ve moved into a different world, a world where more people than not are now published authors, whether they ever earn royalties or not. We (as a whole) use this electronic gadget in so many aspects of our lives- the aforementioned banking, shopping, chatting, research, entertainment, even sexual flirtations, dating, and marriage.
So when it’s turned off, quite literally, a big chunk of what we do is turned off with it. That’s a little scary, to me. I just went two weeks without this machine, and loved/hated all of it. While an external drive or a jump card seems smart, so does backing away a little. Setting aside a little actual green in the event that the bank goes through this same experience, ever. Making a point of gathering the snail mail and phone numbers of the correspondents I’ve met online who really mean something special to me- and hoping I remember how to write by hand. Giving my eyeballs and brain cells more frequent breaks and amazing myself at how much I really CAN get done when I’m not sitting here at the keyboard…