Reflection, Contemplation, Anticipation

My equestrian roots can be traced back many generations.

My mom, a German countess, started riding at a young age, the wooded grounds of her childhood home an ideal setting for riding lessons and trail rides. Decades later, in a cramped horse stall, my mom and sister tucked themselves into sleeping bags alongside our mare, Pegasus. Peg, as she was casually called around the stables, was preparing for motherhood.

Her foal Pandora immediately bonded with the dedicated troupers — she and my sister winning many dressage and jumping events over the next years. When the yearling got stuck in a ravine during an Austin rainstorm, they again kept each another company until the rescue team arrived.

I, too, was taught the fundamentals of English riding when I started in the saddle; my enthusiasm eventually outweighing my accomplishments in the sport. 

Attending the SMU women’s equestrian team events for this month’s story (Page 25) elicited an appreciation for the level of commitment and talent the high-performance sport requires, underscoring that I was much more of a novice rider than I’d realized. 

The talented riders also reminded me that being great at something requires more than dedication and skill, and with my third-place equestrian ribbons came the understanding that, while effort and participation should be acknowledged, not everyone can be great at everything.

It also had me recalling how, growing up, my boys were not very fond of participation trophies.

As we round out the 2024 year, let’s take some time to reflect on the momentous occasions as well as the “small stuff,” recognizing those in our lives who bring us both big and small joys. 

May 2025 bring more time for contemplation, reflection, and forethought. May we enjoy the now, embrace what we love to do and who we want to be around, and remember to acknowledge those who make us feel safe, strong, loved, and appreciated. 

I, for one, would choose a long afternoon walk with my octogenarian father over a weekend shopping spree on Fifth Avenue, and opt for an afternoon picnic or a game of foosball with my sons over attending the latest see-and-be-seen extravaganza. 

As the legendary Tanya Tucker advised, “Bring my flowers now, while I’m livin’” — her musical forebearer, John Prine, reminding us that “memories can’t be paid for,” and “you can’t win ‘em at carnivals for free.”