Saddle beckons to rekindle lost love

As a child, I was fortunate enough to own horses. Having grown up on a large farm in upstate New York, it all started out with Quarter horses, which my mother and I would show locally and ride around the farm.

One day, my mom took me to a horse farm nearby to see about getting me into their riding lesson program. They had several different types of horses, including some Quarter horses, but they also had something else ... something much more exciting.

I began taking lessons there and one day rode a Morgan horse. The Morgan horse is a performance horse and, like the walking horse industry, the Morgan industry features exciting shows for the owners to enjoy. I also rode some American Saddlebreds. Like the walking horse, these two breeds are extremely animated, exciting and addicting.

So I begged and begged and begged -- sold the Quarter horse -- and finally got my first 'real' performance horse. My Morgan's name was Panther.

The next several years were the time of my life. There was nothing better than the five or six times per year my mother and I would pack up and go to a show somewhere in the country. We had gotten pretty serious and competitive with the horses and even put them in training with professionals.

Not only was showing the best time of my life, but the lessons I learned and the friendships I garnered were timeless and unforgettable.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. When I was around 15 or 16, my parents separated. Eventually, they tried to work things out, but one of the conditions of them salvaging their marriage was that the horses had to go. I think some of that had to do with my mother and I being gone so much. And, of course, since my father was not a horse lover by any means, the financial aspect of the horses was something he could not understand.

As an adult looking back, I can understand my parents' decision to some degree, but at the time, back then, I was not OK with it. I rebelled, I hated my parents, and I missed the horse shows and my friends ... I had a deep void inside of me.

But I had to move on and did so in the next stage in life, which was college. I had to find something else I loved to do, and was good at. I became an avid runner, and also hit the books pretty hard. I studied journalism and did well on that track.

When I graduated, I had planned on going into graduate school in Albany, N.Y. One night, however, I began reminiscing about the horses -- I never forgot them -- and logged onto the web site of a Morgan/Saddle horse industry paper called the Saddle Horse Report.

The Saddle Horse Report is the sister paper of the leading walking horse industry publication, the Walking Horse Report. Both, of course, are published in Shelbyville.

To make a long story short, I was so drawn to this web site that I ended up sending them my resumé. I didn't think too seriously about the job that was listed because I already had plans to go to grad school, and also felt like the position was a bit over my head. And it was in Tennessee. Where in the world is Shelbyville, anyway, I wondered.

Needless to say, I flew down here, interviewed, took the job, and moved to Shelbyville.

I was thrilled with my first job out of college. I'd be using some of my journalism skills, but more importantly, I had finally found a way back into the horse industry.

I covered Morgan and Saddlebred shows around the country for a couple years and while I loved it, it never did fill that void I was hoping to fill from years back. In fact, it reminded me all too much of what I didn't have ... horses.

Six years later, I am still in Shelbyville, the walking horse capitol of the world. I still love horses. But one thing I still haven't done, believe it or not, is ride one of the famed animals that call Shelbyville their home.

Every time the Celebration rolls around I think of this, remember the great times I had as a teenager showing horses, and promise myself I will, literally, get back into the saddle and rekindle my love for riding one day by getting on a walking horse.

Horses -- and, indirectly, walking horses -- are, after all, why I have made Shelbyville my home.

-- Sadie Fowler is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She can be reached at (931) 684-1200, ext. 214, or by e-mail at sfowler@t-g.com. This column is scheduled to print every Thursday.