Showing Tom Boy

The first place I took true riding lessons from was Fox Meade Farm in Chesterfield County, VA.   I was in middle school and was definitely a horse crazy girl.   I rode several ponies at the farm, but my favorite was the first horse I rode there, a big chestnut Thoroughbred gelding named Tom Boy.

Tom Boy was about 25 years old and had some breathing problems, but I loved him, he was so responsive, I rarely ever rode him with a crop.

At my first show, there at the farm, I didn't get to ride him in any of my classes, but my 2nd show, I did.  I got to ride him in both my classes and I was so excited.

When it was my turn to ride him, he had already been in several classes that morning and was in the class before  mine, so I was to go into the ring and mount there, instead of him leaving the ring and having to re-enter it.   I went out to him and a nice gentleman helped me gmount him, as he was over 16 hands.   The girl who had just gotten off him, reached up and said, "Here, you'll need this."  As she tried to give me the crop.   I just shook my head and said, "No!  I don't need a crop with him."   Plus, I thought he might be tired and I wasn't going to force him.   I rarely needed it anyways, but just didn't feel I should use it on a older possibly tired horse.

After the gentleman helped me get my stirrups the correct length, I went out to the rail and the class began, with at least about 10 other girls riding the other horses and ponies in the riding program.

I listened for the ring master to tell us what to do, as it was a walk, trot, and canter class, and Tom Boy and I went about our ride.   He did everything I asked, when I asked, with no hesitation.  I knew I hadn't needed that crop and I bet I smiled as I thought about it, especially when he easily picked up the canter for me, in each direction.   He certainly wasn't acting tired or old, for me, and I think he was probably a bit relieved that I didn't have the crop with me.

Then we lined up in the middle of the ring, awaiting our numbers to be called as the ribbons were handed out.   They started with 6th place and as they went down the placings, I got more and more nervous, thinking I was going to go away empty handed, again, like I had in my first show.

But when they got to the blue ribbon, I was in shock, my number was called!  Tom Boy and I had won!

I was so happy as I left the ring and went to see my Mom, who happily greeted me.  I said, "It was nice of that man to help me get on Tom Boy.  I thanked him.  Do you think he is a parent?" 

My Mom replied, "No, Lisa, that was the judge!"

Since I can't see very well, I had no clue that it had been the judge who had helped me and I then said, "Well, that now explains the blue ribbon." 

My Mom said, "Oh, why?"

"Because when I got on him, the other girl tried to hand me the crop and I refused to take it.   I was able to get Tom Boy to do everything correctly without a crop, when everyone else was depending on it."  I answered proudly.

And later on, the judge had not forgotten, as when Tom Boy and I went in for our second class, we were rewarded with a red second place ribbon!

I loved that horse, Tom Boy, and I later learned he lived well into his 30's.  I never knew his real Thoroughbred name, closest I was ever told was it was something to do with "Wealth" or "Share the Wealth" or something along those lines, but nothing matches his age when I have looked it up.

Years later, I saw Tom Boy again, one summer, I went to visit him, and I swear he remembered me.

And then years after his death, it was like dejavu when I saw my first Thoroughbred foal, as an owner, born, as he was the spitting image of Tom Boy, who I named My Messenger, aka "Baron".   Even their small white stars were almost identical.   And like Tom Boy, Baron turned out to be a very special horse.