{"id":839,"date":"2010-06-29T12:18:25","date_gmt":"2010-06-29T19:18:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.theblackstallion.com\/blog\/?p=839"},"modified":"2010-07-21T08:54:19","modified_gmt":"2010-07-21T15:54:19","slug":"dreamhorse","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/dreamhorse\/","title":{"rendered":"DreamHorse"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"seattleslew\"
\n
\nA story from Paula Turner who raised Seattle Slew.<\/a><\/p>\n

Black Stallion<\/strong><\/p>\n

The great black stallion moved restlessly under me, barely able to hold himself back, within my restraining reins. His head darted forward, yanking the reins and my arm. At the touch of my left hand on his shoulder, he slowed from a side-stepping jig to a prancing walk. \u201cEasy babe, sloooow\u201d my voice stretched, dropping to such a low note\u2014more vibration than sound. Twitching his ears back, he relaxed a little. He would always listen\u2014and understand\u2014that voice he knew so well. Like a couple grown old together, more was said in touch, tone of voice, than with words.<\/p>\n

And he transmitted to me in that ancient, unspoken language of Horse, everything he felt\u2026 \u201cNow, now I must run.\u201d Dancing under me, he so wanted to sweep me away, take us flying once again\u2026 and remind me who he was.<\/p>\n

Beneath the glistening black coat powerful hindquarters bunched and flexed, bringing legs forward to coil and spring below his loins. I could feel the muscles in his arched neck, shoulders, sliding under his skin\u2026 under my soothing hand. Below my seat and legs he moved with the strength and grace of a ballerina\u2014ready to take flight. His left ear cocked back, hearing the intimate whisper\u2014\u201cEasy big man, slooow\u2026\u201d\u2014meant only for him. He slowed. Before I could say whoa, the stallion felt my request and halted\u2014stood motionless\u2014surveying his kingdom\u2026 I waited for him.
\n
\nThe great flanks moved out, then let go a sigh. He walked\u2014calm now\u2014knowing soon I\u2019d release him. \u201cOk, big man.\u201d We flowed forward to his trot, moving as one. Several lengths later\u2014not bothering with words\u2014I thought, whenever you\u2019re ready\u2026and we glided into a gallop.<\/p>\n

With each lengthening stride his pull on the bit, the reins increased, straining my arms to their limit. Though still contained, my stallion\u2019s desire was clear: \u201cFly\u2026 we must fly\u2026\u201d I folded\u2014ok, big man\u2014 until my chin lay inches above his withers\u2014body melding with his\u2014now!\u2014and the big black shot forward.<\/p>\n

Finally released beneath me, his great strength, power, again took my breath. Within a few strides we were flying, his legs pistons devouring the distance ahead, his movement fluid, effortless. At each stretch of his stride my arms followed his head forward and back; as he gathered himself again my legs were springs, absorbing his upward movement, keeping my head and back on one motionless, horizontal plane. Perfect unison. We moved together as two dancers who\u2019d spent a lifetime practicing this art of controlled abandon.<\/p>\n

No matter how many times we flew together it was always new, exhilarating\u2026always like the first. And each time his unspoken message the same: He was known everywhere\u2026 the fastest horse in the world\u2026 and I trained him\u2026<\/p>\n

Can I really be feeling this? Are his feet truly touching the earth? I can always tell, in the middle of a dream, if it\u2019s real or not. This is no dream\u2014my black stallion is real. We slowed. I can feel his neck under my hand, hear him nicker, feel his body dancing beneath my seat and legs\u2014sense my oldest friend. Why do I have to see him? Luxuriating in us, I resisted the urge to look at my great dancing steed; with bliss so complete, what more could heaven offer?<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t stand it; I\u2019ve got to see him! My eyes opened. There below me\u2014as always\u2014were only my own two legs, straddling a broomstick. Overwhelming disappointment woke me from the dream.<\/p>\n

My ten-year-old mind thought, Dad-gummit! The same broom I ride around the orphanage! Why do I always have to look down and spoil everything? I control my other dreams, do whatever I want\u2014fly all over the Home. After having the exact same dream for years\u2014six zillion times\u2014why can\u2019t I remember? \u2013Next time I gotta remember not to look down!<\/p>\n

He\u2019s so much like the Black Stallion\u2014except I trained him\u2026 He\u2019s my black stallion. I closed my eyes, chased away disappointment and pulled back his delicious memory.<\/p>\n

But soon the six o\u2019clock bell called me and forty-four girls to rise. We lived in the huge brick \u201cmiddle-size-girls\u2019 building\u201d of the Junior Order Home for Children, outside Lexington, North Carolina, and my grandmother\u2014\u201cNannye\u201d\u2014was our housemother. The orphanage was home to over two hundred children with nowhere else to live.<\/p>\n

After breakfast of cornflakes, fourteen of us congregated outside. \u201cLet\u2019s play horses\u2014I wanna be the Black Stallion!\u201d<\/p>\n

Barbara Lovell admonished, \u201cPaula, You always wanna play horses\u2014you always wanna be the Black Stallion!\u201d<\/p>\n

My favorite tomboy and idol, Lois Padon, piped back, \u201cThat\u2019s not true; sometimes she wants to be Alec\u2026\u201d And with Lois as back-up we played \u201chorses\u201d again, Lois and I choosing up sides: the girls on mine would be my \u201cherd\u201d while Lois would lead the \u201ccowboys\u201d trying to capture us\u2026<\/p>\n

Shaking my long mane, I pawed the ground with one leg, snorted and reared\u2014striking my arm-forelegs in the air\u2014and whinnied, loud and long\u2014just like a stallion\u2014summoning my band. The moment my front feet touched ground this Black Stallion wheeled and galloped away, followed closely by the herd\u2026<\/p>\n


\nDREAMHORSE<\/strong><\/p>\n

North Carolina, May 3, 2002<\/p>\n

My groom took the young racehorse and handed me a phone. It was a writer-friend, Jody Scott, whom I\u2019d asked to critique my article on training Seattle Slew. \u201cI finished the article\u2014so you named him Baby Huey\u2014that\u2019s part of his legend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, how was\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know there\u2019s got to be Slew retro on Saturday\u2019s Derby coverage. After all, he is the only living Triple Crown winner\u2014not to mention, undefeated. \u2013I can see it now, camera picks out old Slew Crew members \u201c\u2014and there\u2019s Slew\u2019s first trainer, Pa\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014No. That won\u2019t be happening.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Why not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst of all, I\u2019m not going; second, they wouldn\u2019t remember me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait. \u2018Only woman\u2014I ever heard of\u2014to play a vital role making one of history\u2019s greatest racehorses, but you\u2019re not going to the Derby on his twenty-fifth\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014No.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice dropped. \u201cIt\u2019s your anniversary too\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t sound so impatient. \u201cHey, how bad was the article?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPaula, I can\u2019t belie\u2014why not go?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hiding my exasperation was hopeless; words came quick. \u201cI don\u2019t go to the racetrack. \u2013How was\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014But\u2026 it was your world\u2026 for so long.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s just say I moved here to be forgotten, ok? \u2014So what about the article? Have I got three days of editing?\u201d<\/p>\n

Resigned, Jody sighed, \u201cOnly two. \u2018Sure you won\u2019t reconsider Kentucky?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously, does it need major revision?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m sure you\u2019re sentimental, but isn\u2019t it a bit extreme?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere, where you wrote, \u2018One day the phone will ring\u2026\u2019\u201d As he read I remembered the difficulty of writing those lines. \u2026and I\u2019ll hear the words I dread, that my boy, Huey, is no more. And black will be my color, for we were not meant to outlive our children. \u201cPaula, isn\u2019t that stretching it a bit\u2014for a horse?\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared into the distance, silent.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaula?\u201d<\/p>\n

Eyes closed, my voice went soft, low. \u201cNo\u2026 It\u2019s not\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A story from Paula Turner who raised Seattle Slew. Black Stallion The great black stallion moved restlessly under me, barely able to hold himself back, within my restraining reins. His head darted forward, yanking the reins and my arm. At the touch of my left hand on his shoulder, he slowed from a side-stepping jig …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[91,41,119,47],"class_list":["post-839","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-kentucky-derby","tag-racing","tag-seattle-slew","tag-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/839","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=839"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/839\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1032,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/839\/revisions\/1032"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=839"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=839"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theblackstallion.com\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=839"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}