Tough guys cry too, even if it's about a horse

I stood by a row of pickup trucks and cried. It was the first time I had seen a horse in three years.

BM Pack’s White Hawk isn’t my horse anymore. My mother sold him years ago because I was away at college and when I was in town, going to the beach or other things were far more tempting way to spend my time. It was a choice I wholeheartedly agreed with, a horse deserves to be shown affection and ridden, and his new owner is a little girl whose family rides him three times a week.

Still, when Rhelia and I pulled into the gates of the Berrien County Youth Fair that August day I was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. The fair and showing Hawk was always the culmination of a summer, of a whole year really, coming to an end and the realization I was growing older. School always started two weeks after the fair when I was kid bringing with it worries about classes, friends and football.

If I’m writing this for the blog it may be hard for some people to identify with owning a horse. Showing a horse is hard work, frustration and love meeting together. You spend days upon days in the heat on top of another creature trying to get a cantor right. Part of you is still holding on to that last daydream of being a cowboy. Nights are spent sitting on hay, playing cards for the first time with older boys. The first girls I had crushes on were 4-H girls, something that my friends made fun of me for when I was older.

In short, visiting the fair made me feel like a quote from Dickens in “A Christmas Carroll.”

He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares, long, long, forgotten.” 
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Rhelia and I walked up and down the same barns I used to sleep in hammocks tied to polls. With help from someone I recognized, my old 4-H club leader, I found where Hawk was.

I could have sworn I heard whinny as I walked in the barn. Each paint horse I saw my hopes jumped up and fell back down as I looked at brown eyes instead of his signature blue. Paint horses are in my mind, the way a horse should look. Close your eyes for a second and think of an Indian Warrior on a horse. What you see is a Paint, and hawk always seemed to have a bit of that vibe in him.  

So I was sad that when I saw him he looked tired. He had just been shown twice earlier that morning seemed half asleep. I don’t know if I had watched the Budweiser Clydesdale commercial too often or what, but I expected him to come up to me and somehow speak, somehow say he knew I was sorry for leaving him.

He stood a few feet back in the stall though. I was wearing sunglasses but it was obvious that tears were streaming down my face. I took them off and reached through the bars to touch him. He stayed silent. Finally he came forward and I rubbed his nose. He raised his lip, a bad habit but fun game I used to play with him. After a moment he went back and seemed to go back to sleep.

“We’ll come back later, I think he’s tired.” Rhelia said.

I nodded and we walked out the back of the barn and she asked me if I was ok before looking at my face. She hugged me and we started walking towards the parking lot. She asked me if I need a moment alone and I said yes and went off by myself for a moment.

I don’t know how certain places can kick start your brain. Nostalgia and melancholy are words that seem ugly to me, reminding of whiney emo bands that wear black or cry about not being loved enough. But what I was thinking as I rested on a strangers tailgate was that I was re-living events that at most times I could barely even remember. They smashed forward before my eyes like a mini movie projector.

All that sweet un-tampered feelings of hope and innocence seemed real again. I remembered my grandpa showing me the new horse while he sat on a John Deer riding tractor, and the excitement that I felt that day. I thought about riding Hawk next to a girl who liked me, afraid to hold her hand. Of daydreams I had a kid of playing pro football and reading Treasure Island. Back than playing for the Detroit Lions seemed that it would be easier than finding someone stand arm length apart from and shuffle feet with at an awkward middle school dance.

After I composed myself we walked to the sheep and swine barn. The night before I had dreamed that Rhelia and I lived in big house in the country and had a pig named Harrington. Sheep and goats have always been some of my favorite animals, the idea of farm life implanted in me by my grandfather. Sometimes I think maybe Rhelia and I should just pack up and rent a farmhouse somewhere.

Hawk was still on my mind, but I was happy I still knew all the best food stands. The Korn Dogs stand was the cheapest and best place to get food at, and the proceeds went to charity. After we stuffed ourselves with fried food we cooled ourselves off with lemonade at the 4-H stand, a place I worked summers as a kid.

The walk around the commercial buildings was about as boring as I remembered it, and when we went to the traveling carnival I was amazed at how little things had changed, the only difference being that things were a lot smaller now. Rhelia wanted to ride all the rides, but that would have cost $40, money we really didn’t have

“We’re too big to ride all the rides, we wouldn’t fit,” I said. “Let’s just ride two rides, and call it a day.” I wanted to take the Ferris wheel, because I had just read “Devil in the White City” about Chicago’s World Fair, when the first Ferris wheel was unveiled. I don’t really have a fear of heights, but I get dizzy when thinking about them and almost fall over. Still I wanted to face the fear.

It ended up Rhelia was really terrified of Ferris Wheels. It didn’t help that, the steel groaned when we first went around during a spin. Just for the record, traveling carnivals are not designed for people who are 6’2 and 250 pound like me. I almost hit my head and realized that most of the other people in the lines were kids. Although it was a nice view when we were stuck at the top, if I was a kid I might have screamed, but instead I just grabbed hold of the center of the ride and held on.

We were planning on going on another sky high ride afterwards, but after being afraid up in the air we decided to go on the artic rush or whatever it's called, a ride that goes around in a circle at high speed. I sat on the outside and when the speed kicked in, Rhelia slammed into me with inertia. My side went into the metal car and smashed my kidneys. It hurt a lot and I was in agony. When the ride was over, I had a large bruise on my side.

Sore, we walked back around and went to watch the We Can Ride 4-H club show class. It’s a group for people with disabilities to help them live more normal lives. The whole thing is a pretty nice organization. Finally we got ready to see Hawk before we left.

The second time we visited him I tried to keep my guard up, thinking he would be tired and ignore me again. So I had a big smile on my face when he came up and stuck his nose though the stall bars, before he couple of times he walked around the stall, but came back to see me. His owners were still gone so I didn’t go into the stall again. It seemed to go a lot better the second time.

I said goodbye again and when we were leaving I again ran into my Kay, who is still a leader in 4-H. She asked how it went and when she realized I was still upset she asked me if I went in the stall, I told her no.

“For Pete’s sake, why not,” she said. She is really the type of person to say that.

We walked back and Hawk right up to me when I walked in the stall. No one was around except for Rhelia, Kay, Hawk and I. Or at least it seemed that way. I hugged around the neck and he wrapped his head around me. He smelled that same, it felt the same. A couple of weeks later writing this down, I feel like I can still remember every second spending time in there.

I thanked Kay and said goodbye. Rhelia and I walked to the car and she said it really seemed that he remembered me that time and she thought he was glad that I came back and went in the stall.

Maybe it’s stupid to think that a horse has a memory like a people do. That’s a question better left to scientists. Maybe I was projecting all those thoughts and emotions I was feeling at that moment about my life that made me so emotional. But if I’, asked what my feelings about it is, than yes, I think Hawk remembered me.    

Endless Shrimp stress relief: Tigers on the Radio and Kalamazoo Nature Center hikes

Waiting tables during Endless shrimp is means more business and more much needed money this time of the year, even more so because my car needed new tires today. But it also can take a bit of a toll on the body carrying tray after tray of shrimp to your guests. To loosen up my aching shoulders today I listened to the Tigers on the radio and switched up my workout to in an effort little piece of mind hiking at the Kalamazoo Nature Center.

Jim Price and Dan Dickerson yelled  how great it was that the Tigers averted being swept by the Chicago White Sox today as I drove North of Kalamazoo in the Camry. Cabrera hit another home run in the third inning on a bum leg today and Benoit had five out save end the game. If they are going to win the World Series I feel that this is year.

After the game was over I got out of the car and headed out on the trails. The Kalamazoo Nature Center charges $7 to help with the upkeep of the trails so I don’t mind paying; still I wanted to get my money worth. I packed up a book and an extra shirt and took off.

To get to the trails on the west side, it’s best to pass by the main building. Outside they keep a Great Horned Owl and two Red Tailed Hawks in captivity. This isn’t a zoo however; the animals were rescued and have too many injuries to be released into the wild. All birds of prey have very intense mannerisms and I enjoy walking by them.

My goal was to walk to a pond located on the farthest western point of the trails. To get there you have to take three other trails throughout the Nature Center. I didn’t take a map because I’ve been to the spot before and I wanted to try to find the way by myself. After I had passed the Hawk and Owl and looked at a turtle and snake sunning themselves on rocks in a pond it occurred to me that maybe I should have at least brought my cell phone in case I got lost.

After about a half mile I was close to the road I scrabbled up a hill and heard the sound of rustling to my left. 

The noise was louder than a squirrel and then out of the corner of my eye I saw two white tails jumping farther south of the trail. They stopped for a moment and looked at me before disappearing into the thick. I smiled and kept going; it was ironic to me because I was just thinking about how I hoped to see a deer 30 seconds earlier.

At the road a tunnel lets a hiker get through without having to deal with traffic. Inside there are paintings on the walls of wetlands. When I came out on the other side I looked at a big map of the trails on that side. The pictures identifying the trails were a crane, a trout and a turtle. I planned out the route and walked for a while over mostly open ground.   

Without a cell phone, and not having something to watch or read I really tried to let my mind wander. It’s been a long since I’ve really given my mind a chance to do that. Normally I’m reading something or working on something at home. At work you have five plans you’ve set up for when someone gets their food, and that’s if it’s slow. When I wake up in the morning I go straight to my cell phone and check my emails, cnn.com and other things. Sometimes I worry that ADD might set in if I’m not careful.

I found myself thinking a lot about my relationship with my great girlfriend. Books I’ve read in the past and how everything around me looked like Lord of The Rings. Sometimes my mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of people in the past, but I pushed those out pretty easy.

The bugs started bothering me as I walked by trout stream. A sign posted said that they had demolished a damn that had been there to allow fish to go upstream and mate. Later on during the walk I passed small ponds that were covered in Algae. The ground around here was wet and I swatted the back of my neck more often as I got to my destination.

The pond was very peaceful and as I sat and listened I realized I had seen no other people in more than 45 minutes. It was a nice change of pace from daily life. I walked back to the road through more bug infested land quickly and thought for a moment what would happen if I sprained an ankle. Luckily I’ve never had one in the past even after 10 years of football, hockey, boxing…

Back at the center of the Nature Center I planned to take the Blue Bird trail, a two and half mile loop through fields and valleys, with a tough climb in middle. The walk started with sore legs but I was determined to work though it. What ended it for me is that the trail was overgrown. I walked about 400 yards before stopping and heading back. It wasn’t that I was worried about my ankles or shoes, but instead my fear of ticks. Really ticks are the only thing I’m afraid of in the woods I was 6 –years-old and had one lodge into the back of my skull that summer. On the way back to my car I said hello to a father and his kids who were racing up a hill. I thought to myself that someday I hope to impact enjoyment of nature and exercise in my kids the same way.

I went home and Rhelia was already cooking dinner. I sat and read for bit, finishing George Washington: A Life finally and was much more relaxed than how I had started the day. I keep hoping to find a newspaper job, but in the meantime I need to work at finding healthy ways like that day to put behind difficult days at work.  

A George Washington Biography, beer, and why I hate the Squeakquel : Stuck happily on Land Part 1

The weather disagreed with sailing again on Tuesday. Since I’m trying to keep up the practice of publishing something that makes sense and is somewhat proofread the plan is to write about George Washington, beer, and the Detroit Tigers in some sort of order. In the end I hope to tie them together into something worthwhile to read.

Rhelia and I woke up to bad weather in St. Joseph. That combined with missing the trailer plate for the boat meant that we wouldn’t try to go out on the Lake. I hope that sometime next week I have the opportunity. This has been a strange summer in weather.

Instead we went out to breakfast at one of the best and cheapest place in St. Joseph eat in the morning, Thornton’s downtown café. We both had their breakfast burritos and hash browns with coffee and the total was less than $15. It’s located downtown and yet has a small town feel. Compared to other places that tuned so much to the tourist trade it really feels more like how my hometown used to be.

Jean Klock Park is the best kept secret for as beach in town. Years ago my family used to go there and it was sight of some my favorite memories from when we had our boat, The Bear Lady (mom had a sense of humor.). Whenever I used to have to donate Plasma for some extra money my first couple of years in Kalamazoo, I would think back laying in on the sandbar in the water by beach to keep my blood pressure down.

(Of course the blood pressure would shoot right back up again if the lab tech who loved the Alvin and the Chipmunks so much he was a fan club member was “sticking” me. One day he stabbed me four times as he talked about how much he loved the “Squeak-quel,” but really that is an another story completely)   

But to continue, Jean Clock Park is great. There are public restrooms and showers, great sand and very few people. It was run down years ago, but since the golf course was built nearby they have reshaped the sand. 

We sat by ourselves surrounded by seagulls that left us alone. In addition to getting sun and swimming this allowed me to get major work done in reading Ron Chernow’s Washington: A Life.

I highly recommend this book for anyone who enjoys biography like I do. In reading it, Chernow doesn’t sugarcoat Washington’s shortcomings as a slave master or failings as a general. However at the same time he doesn’t shoot for ruining completely the character of “The father of America.”

While movies, popular culture, and history channel documentaries have brought to life other historical figures such as John Adams with a HBO mini-series, Abe Lincoln winning an Oscar and as a Vampire Hunter, and FDR in movie starring Bill Murray, Washington has remained boring and someone I never really thought I could connect with. The image of Washington chopping down a cherry tree and “never telling a lie,” are ingrained in our culture, but if asked in present day who Americans feel the best Americans in History are, Washington has had a fall down the list for  a hundred years.  

This book has changed some of that for me. It is broken up into six parts concerning his youth, time in the French and Indian wars, Revolutionary War, time as a statesman, President Terms, and time retired before death. I am just getting to the parts before he is elected, and the Constitution goes into law.

The book is not the best Biography I have ever read, that would go to Edmond Morris’s The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. David McClullah’s John Adams would be second. However, so far in my reading I would put Washington: A Life third on my very informal list.   

The clouds broke around 2 p.m. Rhelia and I took a break from reading. She finished Devil in the White City yesterday and didn’t like it, I have to agree, while it was entertaining it was written too much like a novel and the combination of murder and Chicago architecture information while interesting, was clunky. We decided to take a walk on the beach.

For further reading check out part 2 of my blog about beer and the Tigers, coming soon.