Back to the 70's, Poetry, "Ethereal Dream," and an Arabian Horse

"Ethereal Dream" was one of the poems I wrote in the 70's that was published internationally by the official publication for the U.S. equestrian team, The Chronicle of the Horse.


"Ethereal Dream"

Storybook horse, fantasy dream
Are you ethereal as you seem?
Mane, part of the whispering wind,
Floating about you, hair unpinned.
You couldn't be part of this world,
Ghostly beauty and speed unfurled.
Tomorrow let's gallop into the mist,
Where rosy dawn bears the sun's kiss.
Real it will be, but make-believe it will seem,
As if we're riding from life to our dream."

I wrote this poem about Sahla Ibn Siham, aka "Victor the Wonder Horse" a pumpkin bay polish Arabian colt that I got as a yearling, raised and trained. He did it all, dressage, jumping, working cattle, trails, liberty performances by vocal commands and hand signals for local adult ed groups. Soulmate spirit horse.

He was a character and half. Spirit, intelligence, playing games, mischief maker.

One morning I arrived at the stable, finding Victor loose, having breakfast on alfalfa over by the tack room. Smiled at me. Yes, he had a smile like you wouldn't believe, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. A wise guy Houdini horse.

He had reached over the top of the dutch door on his stall. Undid the latch that was on the outside of it with his teeth.

Eventually we had a whole series of latches on top of latches on his stall's dutch door. He delighted in solving these puzzles.

I was going to get him a rubic's cube but never got around to it.

Flashback to 1971 - Circus Girl - "Lions, Tigers, and Horses,Oh My!"

My horse Commodore and I fit right in at PT Barnum and Bailey Circus at the Cow Palace, San Francisco.

He, a good looking tall black-bay with a long mane, wearing a new red halter and a leadrope on one side as a rein. Me, 19 years old, riding him bareback.

Lions looked out at us from cages, elephants were led by, people were milling around.

It was 1971, my Mom and I moved to Santa Barbara, California. We took a horse trailer up to San Francisco to pick up Commodore. A professional had trailered him across country from Wisconsin.

I hadn't seen him for a year, having been away at college. Commodore had been turned out in a giant pasture in Wisconsin.

The Cow Palace sign announced "PT Barnum and Bailey Circus."

We located the truck driver and Commodore.

I knew right away Commodore hadn't forgotten me.

I slipped the new red halter on him with the leadrope. "Would you give me a leg up please?" I asked the truck driver.

In my mind I said to Commodore, "Comma, I have missed you so much."

The past year melted away.

Commodore was a tall jumping horse, spirited, and I had never ridden him bareback with only a halter and a leadrope on one side.

We instantly connected, tuned in to each other. We took off riding around the circus.

We stopped at the lion cage. All kinds of circus animals were in cages nearby or being led around.

People in the crowd smiled at us, watched, waved, pointed at him. I knew Commodore was trusting me. That was why he wasn't nervous or spooking.

The bystanders probably thought I was a circus girl, one of the bareback riders with her trusty trick horse.

In my mind I said to him, "Oh Comma thank you! You're so good."

Commodore in his red halter, me riding bareback, we watched the PT Barnum and Bailey circus at the Cow Palace.

It was not your everyday experience, but Commodore was not your everyday horse.

Native American Storyteller Little Hawk Shares Wisdom

The heartfelt genuine quality of this storytelling by Little Hawk makes it so real, so wonderful. Enjoy.

My Life Story - I'll Never Forget the Day....

It was like a scene straight out of Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon.

"Harvard Milk Day" in Harvard, Illinois, had arrived, with it's parade and festivities to promote dairy products. The year was 1970 and it was a hot June day. I was one of the contestants in the "Milk Day Queen" contest. We had all been photographed by the local papers many times while drinking glasses of milk.

I sat on the back of a red mustang convertible in last Spring's prom dress and rode in the parade as our high school's representative.

I graduated from "Big Foot High School," of Walworth, Wisconsin. It was named after a native American chief who had lived near Geneva Lake, Wisconsin. I was our school's representative.

The Harvard Milk Day parade went down the main street of town and various festive floats made a long line. We milkmaids sat on the backs of the convertibles and waived at the spectators.

There were also floats pulled by tractors, hay wagons with local kids, and local school bands marching.

As the representative from the above named school my car's banner read "Miss Big Foot." The other milkmaids had names like "Miss Lake Geneva" or "Miss Williams Bay." Of course the banner on my car drew some attention.

I've always enjoyed humour so I just rolled with it, smiling and waiving. Occasionally some kids would yell something like, "Hey Miss Big Foot, what size shoe do you wear?" We all shared some good laughter and it was a day I'll never forget.