Something about Mother's Day....

“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”-Abraham Lincoln 

As a young child, Marsha Williams discovered an Arabian horse inside a general reference book she had found in the local library. There was just something about the illustration that captured her attention. She can still remember tracing the horse's silhouette, over and over and over with her finger. She never tired of it. She felt there wasn't anything else she could do with her life, as significant as working with these very special horses. Horses had always defined who she was, who she wanted to become and it was only natural that Marsha decided to dedicate her life to the Egyptian Arabian horse.

Marsha had become a successful trainer, taking green horses and preparing them for their novice owners. She had been working with a head-strong Ansata Abbas Pasha daughter who had been proving herself to be a bit too difficult for her amateur owner. With careful and slow tender loving care, Marsha had seen the mare experience real growth in her training. She would do anything for her owner now. However, the mare's owner grew tired of her and of the time, the dirt and the smell.  Not to mention the amount of money she was spending, that she could spend somewhere else, like at the mall. So Maggie Iacovino paid Marsha an impromptu visit. "You know Marsha, I thought I might find personal fulfillment in this horsey thing and you know what, I haven't. I have seen enough that I can say I don't really like it. It's more than what I want to invest of myself, so, she's yours Marsha, Abby likes you more than me anyway. I signed the registration papers over to you. Have fun." as she pushed a white envelope into Marsha's hands. Marsha was stunned, elated and overwhelmed, all in a matter of minutes, as her life was instantly changed by nothing less than a miracle and the encouragement she had been praying for. Was she dreaming all of this? Would she wake up and find her life to not include Abby?

She had heard of a couple who owned  a young and upcoming stallion, recently imported from the EAO. Marsha had seen his pictures in the magazine and had instantly liked the charismatic stallion. She had been thinking, with the right mare, she could really breed the kind of foal she dreamed about. The stallion had caused a bit of a stir in the community and his owners were looking for other breeders with well-bred mares, in the hope of producing the kind of foals who would attract attention and reward them with many dollars in stud fees. Now that she had the mare, Marsha wasted no time in contacting them. A year later, this stallion had tragically died but her miracle mare had given birth to an exquisite filly, whom she had called MW Milagro, her personal miracle. This filly matured into a beautiful mare, a Class A and Regional Champion, who was highly regarded by many people. She had received a number of offers for her, which she had rejected. She had briefly considered one of the offers, as the money was more than she had ever had in her life. It would have lessened the pressure Marsha felt and allowed her to renovate the farm with all of the improvements that would make her facility first class. However, to have sold Millagro, would have meant walking away from the bloodline and all the benefits it brought to her program. "Milly", as Marsha affectionately called her, had produced well for Marsha, giving birth to nine daughters, most of whom Marsha had sold for a profit, except for two very special mares that she wanted to keep. Standing next to her, was a son of one of Milly's daughters. Marsha's body language conveyed how much she loved this chestnut horse. Her hands lovingly caressed his shiny red neck, which glistened in the bright sun. He had been a little on the small side, when he was born but under Marsha's care, he prospered and now stood somewhere around 15.3 hands. "You know Matt, this colt's dam was a beautiful mare. I loved her. She looked like a copy of her dam, MW Milagro, whom I called Milly. I almost called it quits, the day she died. I couldn't even begin to think, how I would make it, from one day to the next, without her. Like her dam, she was my friend and my confidante. She was carrying another foal by this colt's sire and I was hoping for a filly." she said. Matt looked across the paddock, to a couple of mares who stood with their eyes slowly closing, as they dozed in the sun. Marsha's voice was starting to break and he knew where she was headed next. Matt couldn't bear to hear the words he believed that she would soon be saying. "I love these horses and I care what happens to them. It's hard to let them go. Don't know if I can do it. I am so confused Matt, one moment, I am convinced that this is what I need to do and then, a few seconds later, I no longer feel so strong in my conviction" she explained, as tears started forming in her eyes.

Matt had been introduced to Marsha at a breeders conference by a friend of Matt's wife. Matt was new to horses. Actually, it was Darla who loved the horses and Matt, well, he loved Darla and would do anything to make her happy. Matt thought of Darla and somewhere deep inside of him, he still felt the ache. "Would he ever make it through a day, without missing Darla?" he asked himself but he knew the answer. He didn't believe that he would ever stop missing Darla. Darla had meant everything to him. It would be almost three years, this coming May, since Darla had died from a rare form of leukemia. It all had happened so fast, it seemed like Darla was there one minute and then, gone the next. While getting ready for their annual Fourth of July barbecue, an overwhelming fatigue had robbed Darla of the energy she needed, to create one of the most anticipated family gatherings of the year. The following week, Darla and Matt had visited the doctor and as a precaution, had a round of blood tests. A couple of weeks later, the doctor delivered the grim news. As they crossed the parking lot of the medical building, Matt promised Darla that the following year, he would buy her the Arabian Horse she had always dreamed of, in celebration of her victory over her illness. He was determined to fight this with all he had. At the end of August, shortly before Labor Day, Darla had breathed her last breath. Matt was devastated and without Darla, he was lost. Consumed by grief, Matt stayed at home, surrounded by pictures of his beautiful wife. "With Darla gone, what will I do with me?" he asked out loud.

A few months later, on a business trip down south, he opened the complimentary airline magazine and read an article about Arabian Horses as an alternative investment. Matt suddenly remembered the promise he had made to Darla, almost a year ago. With a new found fervor, Matt threw himself into the many books that Darla had collected about the breed. He purchased a subscription to Arabian Horse World Magazine. For the next year, Matt focused on learning everything he could about the breed, eventually focusing his attention on the Egyptian Arabian horse. When he was ready, he called Darla's friend, Nora. It was a timely call, as Nora was making plans to attend a Pyramid Society breeders conference and had suggested that Matt register for the event. And that's where Matt met Marsha Williams. Nora told Matt that Marsha, once a bright student with an exciting academic future ahead of her, had given up a full scholarship to Princeton University, so that she could work for a guy named Victor, a small preservation breeder who had spent a lifetime carefully breeding within an obscure, rare group of horses, descended from a key desert horse named Sabra Al Halim, a mare who had been imported from the Nejd region of Saudi Arabia into Egypt. Victor had discovered, quite by accident, that alternately crossing the mares of this family with highly refined Saqlawi and Dahman stallions, produced the type of horse who was consistent with the type known the world over as "classic". In one of Victor's travels, he met the American-born Egyptian stallion, Ansata Abbas Pasha and strategically, using his best mare, had incorporated his bloodline into his program. Victor had sold a mare to an older woman, who had a penchant for collecting things that many others wanted but could not afford. It was this woman who had gifted the mare to Marsha. He got to speak with Marsha at length during the conference, learning more about her breeding program and the key horses who figured prominently. Marsha had suggested that he come out to the ranch, as he had a couple of fillies for sale, that would make phenomenal foundation mares for a beginning program. While Matt liked what Marsha had said, there were other farms and ranches that he wanted to visit more. So, politely, he offered an excuse as to why he couldn't visit any time soon.

Matt had been traveling the United States, visiting breeders, taking lots of pictures and notes but he always came up short, trying to find just the right Arabian horse. He knew this horse existed, he just couldn't find him. So, he picked up the phone and called Marsha, hoping for an invitation to visit her ranch. As Matt drove up her long driveway, he saw the large group of mares grazing in the front paddock. Even at a distance, Matt recognized something different, something special in the horses that he had not observed anywhere else in his travels. Smooth of body and harmonious of build, Marsha's mares were uniquely special; their physical qualities were very different from the other horses that he had seen. Their iridescent white coats, made even brighter by their black skin, accentuated every curve, enhancing their silhouette. The large, round and very black eye captured the twinkle of the sun, intensifying the depth and shape of the eye, like a pool of melted obsidian. The mare's nostrils, large and delicately curved, underscored the overall beauty of the mares’ heads, which looked as if they were chiseled out of the finest stone. The mare’s necks were long and swan-like, with extra length in the poll and a finer throat latch than he remembered ever seeing. Powerful shoulders met a closely-coupled, strong and level back, supported by deep, well-sprung ribs and balanced with round, well-muscled hindquarters. An extreme high-set tail, proudly held, like a banner, waved in the breeze, As Matt slowed down to look at the mares, he heard loud trumpeting neighing, ricocheting from somewhere on the right side of his car. The powerful sound filled the inside of his car, the outside air and the surrounding hills. As he turned his head around to look, he saw what appeared at first to be a red lick of flame, burning down the hill, at a high rate of speed and coming towards him. "What the heck?" Matt cried out loud.

The stallion had seen the man driving the vehicle up the driveway. Who was this man and what did he want with his mares?" was all that the stallion had on his mind. A few feet from the fence line, he turned to the left effortlessly and slowed down to a floating, suspended trot, as he snorted deeply, to let the man know that he was there. As beautiful as the mares were, and they were extraordinary, the stallion defied description. Matt hated using cliches but this horse was poetry-in-motion, for real. He had never seen anything quite like this horse before. He was what the old-time cowboys called a three-circle horse, incredibly balanced, with a body comprised of rounded lines and curves. The powerful shoulders were set at an angle which allowed the horse so much freedom, that he flew over the ground with enormous strides. His neck was long, swan-like, with a pronounced arch, gently curving upwards to meet a head that was short and wide, well defined, with a prominent and very detailed bone structure. His back was short and strong, with a tail that was set high and curled over his back, accentuating his short and powerful top line. He was exquisite and to Matt, was the masterpiece of whatever program Marsha had created, after all these years. Matt was in awe and for the first time, unable to speak or for that matter, to be coherent. Matt knew that he had to have the stallion. He needed what this horse could do for him. This is the horse worthy of the promise he had made to his dying wife. At first, Marsha would not even hear of it. "He is not for sale Matt, not at any price. Not at all. I have waited a long time for this horse to be born. I dreamed about him and now that I finally have him, it makes no sense to let him go." she said emphatically, leaving no doubt in Matt's mind that he had decided to fall in love with a horse that could never be his.

When Marsha called, almost a year later, Matt was surprised by her phone call and by the news that circumstances beyond her control had forced her to sell a few of her horses, to raise the cash she needed to pay a few bills. Matt didn't even wait a second to consider whether he should or shouldn't. Granted, the money Marsha was asking, was more money than he ever thought he would pay for a horse but the image of the red stallion, still burned in his memory and well, he had to have the horse. Matt accepted Marsha's offer.

So, now, having driven with his new trailer all day, to pick up his horse, Marsha was having second thoughts.  Matt was feeling anxious, as the dread filled him and threatened  to drown him in an ocean of sorrow so deep, like nothing he had experienced since Darla had died. He welcomed the distraction of Marsha's voice as she said, "I am so confused Matt, one moment, I am convinced that this is what I need to do and then, a few seconds later, I no longer feel so strong in my conviction." He watched Marsha, as her face suddenly changed to a look of resolve, as if someone had whispered something into her ear, giving her strength.  Marsha drew in a very deep breath and said, "but then Matt, I thought of Maggie Iacovino and how her generosity made it possible for me to even get to this point, where I could significantly impact the life of another person, like Maggie had done for mine with Abby. So, Matt, he's yours, I want you to take him and help him to become the star he is destined to become. That is his destiny, to be nothing less than a star."

"The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches but to reveal to him his own."-Benjamin Disraeli

As Matt headed home, he was overwhelmed with happiness, as he realized that this coming weekend was Mother's Day and finally, the promise he had made long ago, to Darla, had come true and significantly, with the help of many females, both human and equine. In some small way, he had helped Darla to give birth to her dream. He couldn't think of a more appropriate time for this miracle to happen. Mother's Day, a day to honor the sacrifice and generosity of mothers. Darla's greatest victory was helping her husband to discover new beauty and joy, when he needed to find it most of all. Matt had found a new purpose, a new direction in his life. He felt lighter and happier than he had felt in a long time. The world suddenly felt more exciting and more hopeful. He was headed home with Darla's horse, the horse that Darla had once dreamed of owning and now, he would carry on for her, honor her, with a horse that she would have chosen and been proud of. "Happy Mother's Day Darla...I love you." Matt whispered, as a tear ran down his face.

EnJoy,
Ralph

PS The painting pictured above of the trotting chestnut stallion is by the great Peter Upton and named, Showing the Flag.