I grew up in southern Indiana, a stone’s throw away from Kentucky Bluegrass Country. And like many a little girl, I dreamed of horses. My life as a child revolved around horses – I collected model toy horses, I took riding lessons, and I actually did get a real live pony for Christmas one year.
Fortunately, I had a grandfather who shared my love for horses, and introduced me to the “Sport of Kings” – horse racing.
I remember as a little girl joining my grandfather for visits to the racetrack. While he never owned any racehorses himself, Grandpa had several friends who did, and thus he had access to the backstretch, where we would walk amongst the barns and visit with the equine residents within. Sometimes we would be invited to join the owners and trainers in the paddock, where we could watch the horses being saddled for the race. I would stand in wondrous awe, gazing at the beauty and power of these magnificent animals.
It was with my grandfather that I saw my first Kentucky Derby.
In the forty years since, I have never missed a Derby. Some I saw in person – braving the crowds at Churchill Downs, wearing my own rose-bedecked hat, sipping on mint juleps. Others I watched from the sanctuary of my living room, which I confess generally offered me a better view of the race as thundering hooves round the final turn and come down the homestretch, racing for the finish line.
It was 1994. After spending a couple of years living in Pennsylvania, where I was Executive Director of a non-profit agency serving the Deaf, I had come home to Indiana to care for my ailing grandfather. We were sitting in his kitchen one April morning, and the conversation soon turned to the upcoming Derby – which is always run on the first Saturday of May.
Now, my real name is Virginia, and I grew up being called Ginny, which as I became an adult was shorted to “Gin.” Most of my family and non-Pagan friends, as well as my professional colleagues, call me Gin. So when Grandpa asked me if there was a horse I was backing for the Derby that year, I responded by saying
“I think I’m going to have to pick a horse named Go For Gin. After all, with a name like that…how could he lose???”
Grandpa smiled, reached into his wallet, and pulled out five twenty-dollar bills. With a nod, he handed them to me and said
“Now, you go bet on that horse, and when he crosses the finish line first, go celebrate.”
I didn’t get to Louisville that year, but a good friend of mine did and placed my bet for me.
Well, to make a long story short, Go For Gin won the 120th Run for the Roses, and I collected over a thousand dollars.
I stayed home and watched the Derby on television, and when it was over I jumped in my car and rushed over to the hospital, where my grandfather had been admitted a few days earlier. I dashed into his room, where he had just finished watching the race himself from his hospital bed.
“Grandpa, Go For Gin just won the Derby! I just made a bunch of money!”
Grandpa just looked at me with a big grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, and replied:
“Guess your old grandpa taught you a thing or two about horses after all, eh?”
Those were his last words to me. Grandpa passed over peacefully in his sleep that night.
It’s Derby Day this Saturday. I won’t be heading to Louisville, but I will be watching the race. I don’t have a hundred dollars to spare, but I will be placing a small bet on a particular horse… Go For Gin has a grandson running in the race this year – Nobiz Like Shobiz - and I’ll be keeping my eye on him.
So I’ll don my traditional derby hat and head to the local Derby Day party to order my traditional mint julep and watch the race on a big screen television. I’ll join in singing (off-key) “My Old Kentucky Home” and hum the words to Dan Folgelberg’s “Run for the Roses” ~
“And it’s Run for the Roses
as fast as you can
Your fate is delivered
your moment’s at hand
It’s chance of a lifetime
in a lifetime of chance
And it’s high time you joined in the dance…
It’s high time you joined in the dance.”
Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll see you in the winner’s circle.
This sculpture shows the sign for "connect"...and that is what Deaf Pagan Crossroads is all about - making connections. Connections between Deafhood and Paganism, connections between the Deaf Community and the Hearing Community, connections between myself as the writer and you as the reader. I hope you will take the time to read my various posts, some of which are listed below. Welcome to the Crossroads, and I hope you make some connections here!
*smiles* That’s a beautiful story. Thanks for sharing it with us.
Aw! Just… Awww!
(Now whar’d I put that friggin’ kleenex?)
Beautiful story Gin.. Pass the damm kleenex box .. You know how to make a damm woman cry..
For those wondering how did I do at the races?
Well, things started out well…I arrived at the Derby Party in time to order my mint julep and watch the two races before the Kentucky Derby.
The first was the Humana Distaff, which is a race for female horses, four years of age or older. I bet on a mare named Hystericalady, and she won the race. I ended up collecting a little over seventeen dollars…not a bad payoff on my $2 bet!
Then the next race was the Woodford Turf Classic, a turf race which is run on grass, rather than the regular dirt track. I bet on a horse named Brilliant, and he ALMOST won…he was in the lead and then at the last minute got beaten by a nose with a photo finish. Dang! I came soooo close to picking up some more winnings!
But I thought that I was doing quite well and hopefully my luck would hold up for the Derby.
Alas, I didn’t do so well. I bet on three different horses – Nobiz Like Shobiz to win, Any Given Saturday to place (come in second), and Storm In May to show (come in third). None of these horses did well…they all finished at the back of the pack, with Nobiz finishing 10th. Any Given Saturday was 8th and Storm In May was 16th in a field of 20 horses.
Not good.
Oh well….still had a good time all the same. Better luck next year!
Being a Kentuckian, it is heartwarming to hear that others have fond memories of the Derby.
I am glad you have such beautiful memories of your grandfather, sounds like a fine southern gentleman!
What a wonderful story. While horses were not a huge part of my upbringing, betting on the horses was a favorite pasttime of MY grandfather’s.
I can still remember watching the races on TV, shouting along with him, and even picking a horse for him once or twice.
Blessings
Kelly
I thought I had left a comment on this but obviously I hadn’t.
This is totally awesome and quite moving, and a good illustration of the power of the elders in our lives who are really mentors on so many levels, even when they are in another realm. Too cool!
Cool story, Osh. Makes me miss my Nanny (grandmother). She always watched the Derby on tv, and this year was the first year it wasn’t watched. Somehow, it just wouldn’t have been the same.
I won’t lie, Sunflowerwoman…
it was hard to watch the Derby the first year or two after Grandpa’s death, and I still get a little teary eyed even now, and he’s been gone over ten years.
But the heartache has turned into turned into a warm memory, and now feel I can watch the race and know I’m honoring Grandpa’s memory in doing so.
Gaylen – Grandpa grew up in St. Louis, MO. Dunno if you want to call that the South, but I like to think he was a fine gentleman nevertheless.
And yes, Wolf Wind… even today I feel like Grandpa is still watching over my shoulder. He taught me a lot – not just about horses or “playing the ponies,” but about life itself. He was a self-made millionaire who worked hard to pull himself up by the bootstraps and climb that ladder of success.
I try to remember those lessons when I’m dealing with various issues.
[...] April 26 2011 by ocean1025 Some of you may recall the story of my “Derby Grandpa” – Gus Wolzenski, who introduced me to the fine art of playing the ponies. Grandpa died of [...]