The Italian Connection

Since my post last week about Florence, I can't get Italy off of my mind – the time I spent there, the experiences I had, the people I met. Since the subjects of Ridin', Reinin' and Writin' posts are whatever random things stick in my head or what’s near and dear to my heart, the topic of this post had already been chosen.

With that in mind, I started looking for the journal I kept while I was in Italy - the only time I’ve journaled in my life. It would be inspiration for my Monday blog post.

Although that quest didn't lead me to the journal , it did offer several hours of nostalgia . . . and inspiraton for many more posts. Everything that has sentimental value to me I keep in one trunk and that’s where I looked for the journal which, as I said, I didn’t find (I'm quite sure it will turn up). What I did find was a lot of memories – scrapbooks, photos, diary, baby books and blankets, dolls, toys, and much more . . . and a small leather binder holding a few letters I received when I was in Italy – one from each of my daughters and two more...

I met Matt and Rose Hassen shortly after I moved to Armstrong. I was trying to make a living training horses but, since I was new to the area, I worked at other jobs as well to make ends meet. One such job was housekeeping and/or gardening. That’s how I met Matt and Rose.

Although I was employed by this lovely couple, I soon became much more than hired help and they became more than my employers. Rose immediately took me under her wing and the bond became stronger when we discovered that they had lost a daughter born the same year I was born, also named ‘Sharon’!

Every time I worked there, they insisted I stay for dinner. We became fast friends. Rose and I visited easily but it took me longer to be at ease with Matt. It was my opportunity to go to Italy that revealed the good soul under that gruff demeanor. They both encouraged me to take advantage of the opportunity and insisted I take an interest-free loan from them so I could. I was reminded again of their generosity and kindness  last night as I re-read the two letters I found my trunk of memories, the ones they had written to me while I was in Italy.

I was surprised and touched that Matt had written as well as Rose - not only a note, but a really good letter. He refers several times to a letter I had written to them. One remark (or advice?) I find particularly on point (maybe in response to my disappointment at a reining show there?):

“You know that in spite of your best efforts there will be times when your mount will not be in the best of spirits or health at a crucial time and thus will not answer and obey as you know he is capable of doing – or being.”

Matt writes about looking up where I was living and what it was like when he was stationed there in WWII (not too far from where I was). Since I could still see reminders of a war-torn Italy on my rides in the mountains (yes - I did that there too!), it kind of sent chills through me – and a better understanding of why Matt seemed brusque.



A portion of Matt's letter - note the reference to the war and the oxen. Reference to 1980 is of their visit that year.

One of the monuments to the soldiers (date 1944) along side of the trail I rode to the top of the mountain

The view from the top of a mountain in Italy. I found an old cannon here - a remnant of war-torn Italy.

Matt and Rose both write of watching out for my daughter, Lana, who had just graduated and was “on her own” and both, in the second letter, tell me they will not cash the cheque I sent them until I get home. ("In case I needed it.") Money was always a problem for me and they knew it...

I do not have even one photo of Matt and Rose or her garden of roses. I can’t imagine how that happened but it doesn’t matter. I have these two letters, very clear pictures in my mind and better still, a warm feeling in my heart that will last as long as I do. Miss you, my friends.

Where in the world is Florence?

As most of you know by now, the subject of my weekly post on Ridin’, Reinin’ and Writin’ is either something that happened to me, something that has made an impression on me, a persistent thought I couldn’t shake or a topic that just dropped out of nowhere. This time that’s a town called Florence.

It all started with an email from a friend of mine who is holidaying with her husband in Arizona. She lets all of us who are wintering the frozen north live her adventures vicariously with beautifully designed pages in pdf format that she sends by email. I recently received several of their visits to Florence. Florence, Arizona? What? The Florence I know is in Italy! Another place, another time…

I pulled out an album from my shelf, thumbed through it quickly and soon found a few photos of the day I spent in Florence with Vern and Shawna Sapergia. I was working in Italy at the time training reining horses. My job didn’t leave a lot of time for sightseeing but my employer and his wife graciously hosted a one day visit to Florence. Vern (also working in Italy) and Shawna (visiting) joined us.

I remembered then that one of the first things that boggled my mind on my visit to Italy was how old the country really is! I viewed castles in Bari built in the 12th Century! In Florence, the age of churches, statues and bridges astounded me. Below is a photo I took of Santa Croce, a church built in 1294.

And the church of Santa Maria del Fiora, where we climbed over 400 steps for the view from the top. On our whirlwind tour of Florence, we tried to visit all the famous landmarks, including the statue of David by Michaelangelo.

But maybe best of all is my memories of standing on the oldest bridge in Italy, the Ponte Vecchio – it’s just nice to say I did that! The bridge spanning the Arno River was built in Roman times and first appears in a document dated 996! Now that’s old!

I wish I could do that trip over again with the technology we have today. I would take a laptop computer, a digital camera and I would have instant contact with family and friends. Imagine the fantastic photos I could send along with news! And I would blog… Of course that would depend if I could get internet. When I was in Italy in 1989 I did not even have a phone!

My friend’s recent emails are full of interesting photos and inside stories of historic Florence, Arizona। The town is recognized as one of the oldest towns in Arizona – founded in 1866. The courthouse, a much-valued landmark was built in 1891 – old by North American standards… As I look out on snow-covered landscape here and procrastinate the inevitable shoveling and plowing, I'm envious…

Turns out there are more cities/towns named "Florence" - there's a Florence in Michigan and Oregon, for instance, and probably more if I Googled it.

Italians don’t call their city "Florence" anyway – it’s Firenze।

Horses We Love

God gives us horses and compels some of us to love them. Yet why does the horse, an animal with such a big heart, live such a short life? Perhaps it's because if our horses lived any longer, we wouldn't be able to bear losing them.

~ From an essay posted on Chronicle of the Horse Re: Barbaro

Losing an equine friend is the hardest part of owning one. Who would not rather be cleaning stalls, hauling bales, treating wounds or any of the other various tasks associated with horse ownership than taking responsibility for ending his life and/or burying him? And yet, we must do that for the horses we love.

My world, both far-reaching and close by, has lost too many horses in the past few weeks.

Reasons to Quit

“Reasons to Quit” is the title of a Merle Haggard/Willie Nelson song and that phrase (not the song) has been running through my mind for days now – long enough for me to pay attention. What possible connection could the words of that song have to me? Merle and Willie are talking about quitting smoking and drinking. That doesn’t make any sense. It has to be another line in the song:  “The reasons to quit don’t outnumber all the reasons why.”

Having just welcomed a new year and celebrated another birthday (they do keep happening, don’t they?), the reality of my decision to retire from the reining show pen is starting to sink in. Usually I would be planning for my show year – which horses to show, which shows to haul to, etc. – the absence of which leaves me a little lost. I didn’t make that decision to retire without thought – there were valid reasons – but now there’s a hole in my life plan that begs to be filled.

Doin' What You Have to Do

I almost never watch the news. If anything happens I have to know about, someone tells me and I pick up more than I need to know on Facebook. I do, however, watch a talk show once in a while and it was on one of those that I saw a story that touched me deeply. The story was about a teen mom who shot an intruder to protect her baby and herself.

Shootings happen every day, several times a day, I suspect, so what about this one was different? What about this one affected me while others I didn’t want to hear about?

Select Memories

Two of my three children visited over the holidays. Since it is winter, much time was spent indoors and much of that time was spent visiting – and remembering. Shayne and Cindy reminisced a bit about our life in Crooked River, Saskatchewan when it was just the four of us – Shayne, Cindy, Lana and I. How different one person’s memories might be than another’s – even within the same family! Here are some examples:

• I remembered my son and daughter doing dishes but didn’t remember that Shayne never washed! (Cindy remembered that…)
• I remember them doing dishes but didn’t remember they eventually worked out another arrangement – Shayne did outside chores and Cindy did dishes!
• I remember preparing nutritious meals, baking bread and cookies; Cindy remembers me making root beer!
• I remember taking all the kids to the forest to get the Christmas tree every year with only an axe and a dull saw. It was always at least -25 and we froze our hands and feet. They remember how much fun it was!
• I remember not having any money to send with them when they went to sports events; they remember me keeping them involved in activities.
• I remember that I worried I did not spend enough time with them; they remember me taking them on overnight camping trips to the lake.

It’s sometimes the little things that are most important…