| Its been a couple years now since Mary Williams passed away at the age of
79 on Dec 3, 1990. I've intended to update this note to share an essay
Mary Williams authored. Mary Williams was known throughout the area for her
ability as an artist and her devotion to teaching people to ride horses. This
essay was read in memoriam at her service in the Peterborough Unitarian Church:
Horses have always been an integral part of my life. In winter, we lived
with my grandfather in New Haven, Conn., from when I was about 5 until I was
15 and went away to school. I used to go to drive with my grandfather's old
coachman after school nearly every day when he exercised the carriage
horses, which weren't used very much anymore, but only kept on account of
Taylor, the coachman, who had been with my grandfather since he was 14.
The horses stayed until he could no longer care for them. I remember when
he died. He was in his 80's. He told me all about how he'd been a slave
and belonged to a southern Colonel in the Civil War. He was 12 years old
when the Colonel was wounded somewhere in New York state and taken to a
hospital in Vermont. Taylor went with him and hid under the hospital bed,
scared to death. The Colonel died and Taylor ran away. It was so cold in
Vermont he ran south. He ended in New Haven at a livery stable, because as
he told me, horses were all in the world he knew.
Soon, my grandfather needed a stable boy, and Taylor came to work for him.
He thought the world of my grandfather. I spent hours in the stable, and
driving with him, and learned a great deal not only about horses, but life in
general. For instance, one time when we were out driving in East Rock Park
we past a couple in close embrace. I was about 9 years old and I well
remember Taylor saying to me, "Now if I'de been them, I'd have gone further
into the bushes." When later I quoted this to my mother at supper I wondered
why she laughed so much. Later I found out she had expected Taylor would
moralize a bit, but he was honest and direct.
I was given my first horse on my 8th birthday and I have owned at least one
ever since. My first horse was perfect! I had an old McClellan saddle, and
the next four years revolved around my little horse, Tippy. She shared my
moods, gave me mobility, and taught me self reliance and
independence. With a friend who also had a horse, we roamed the countryside
for hours on end pretending we were everything from highwaymen to
princesses, exploring, adventuring and learning. My father rode with me
on weekends and we had many exciting times including one time his horse
went over backward and broke my father's leg 10 miles at least from home.
Then one fall night, Tippy died of pneumonia. My world shattered.
I had been swimming her in Long Island Sound where we lived in summer and
she must have gotten chilled. It was my fault and it took a long time
before I could even mention her name. Once one of my brothers mentioned the
Mare's Tail clouds in the sky and I dissolved in tears. My first close
experience with tragedy, and I grew up another step.
My next horse came almost immedidately, a little standardbred mare named
Wendy, who had a few bad habits, like rearing. She began to teach me
patience, courage and determination. She broke my arm one day when she
bucked me off.
When my friend and I weren't riding we were "playing horse." We each had a
barn full of the most beautiful, lively horses imaginable. We "rode"
together all over the streets of New Haven, whinnying at each other and
startled pedestrians, shying at baby carriages, bicycles and old ladies, and
severely reprimanding our "horses!" When I went away to school in Virginia I
discovered that one did not always walk up and down hills the way we had
been taught. One galloped over fields and fences, rode 10 miles to a hunt
meet before the meet began, sometimes ending the day 20 miles from
home, and then the long hack back to school.
In other words, I learned foxhunting! There were few if any trailers, and
none available for school girls! I learned what it is to be tired and
hungry, healthily tired, but the horse comes first; self discipline.
School days are always full of ups and downs. My horse, Charmer, a 3/4 bred
hunter at this time, was my anchor. I can't count the times I have turned
the world right side up again with my horse. The day I was married I got up
at daybreak and went for a long ride alone with Charmer and my dogs Peter,
and his son Brutus. Charmer and Brutus came as my dowry. The day after
papa died, though it was December, I saddled Star and rode to the top of the
hill alone with Star.
There the storm clouds that bleak December morning suddenly opened up, and
the rising sun lit the edges of the black clouds. I patted Star, and I knew
I could make it. With Greyfriar's help, I'm still going. My riding was
somewhat curtailed by the arrivals and presence of 9 children, however, I
continued to ride until I could no longer fit in the saddle with each one.
You sat on horses before you could walk. (You were on skis before you could
stand up!) You all rode and learned much the same things I had learned.
Long before you drove a car you rode off into the distance - independence,
self-reliance.
I usually tried to find the general direction you took after having
riderless horses gallop home at least twice. You played equally exciting
games in the woods. You entered your first small 4-H horse shows.
Gradually you learned the responsibility of care and feeding and mucking
out!
Regularity and dependability, and to some of you I'm sure, as it still is to
me, the barn is the place to go to soothe a hurt or think out a frustrating
problem. I've "written" many letters that never got mailed while shoveling
out a stall and felt better for it. Over the years we seemed to get more
deeply involved with horses until now they are a way of life for me, and
some of you children.
There are as many facets to horses and riding as there are to a diamond.
There is the simple love of the animal; the desire to ride off into the
woods to be alone; the sociability of a trail ride; the thrill of a horse
race; the exciting danger of a tough cross country course. And above all
else the beauty and the art expressed in the complete harmony of horse and
rider. This for me, is what life is all about.
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