Horse girls are rough and tumble.  Horse girls are brave and tough.  They learn early to suck it up and kick on.  When working with an animal eight to 14 times your size, you’d better figure out quick if you have the moxie to stay the course.

I’ve seen little farm girls giggling while riding snorting broncs and I’ve seen trust fund daughters ride jumper courses with a broken wrist held together with vet wrap and two Advil.

A friend in her 60’s played polo her whole life.  The doctor told her that if she had another fall, her retinas would detach and she would be blind.  She played anyway and went down hard on the field breaking her neck.  After two months in the hospital she said “you know what?  My eyes are just fine!”

There’s a Spanish proverb that says “When I am on my horse, only God is taller than I.” Horse girls don’t fear what normal people fear.  They fear confinement, they fear boredom.  They crave the sun and wind on their face and strong muscles carrying them far and wide. They go to great lengths to feed their obsession.

Gabriela was a horse girl through and through.  We first met when she was 17 years old and 50lbs. She traveled in a wheelchair

powered by an aid. She couldn’t talk without the help of a communicator and she couldn’t bring the communicator to the barn. I learned to ask yes or no questions and she would respond with eye movement when she wasn’t too tired.  Our first ride lasted five minutes before she fell asleep exhausted but happy. She’d been told by two different facilities that she was “too disabled to ride.”  But she knew she needed to ride.

I tried leading a trusty horse with two side walkers, but she couldn’t support herself and I realized that even with the strongest and the most attentive side walkers, it wasn’t safe and it didn’t give her the dignity of the ride she so richly deserved.  Gabriela wanted to ride.  I took a deep breath and a leap of faith and hopped up on the horse’s back, took Gabriela in my arms and away we went.

That was nine years ago.  In those intervening years, we had adventures.  Gabriela loved to go fast and I worked had to find and train horses that could deliver for her. We rode Feathers, Sugar, LeRoi, Cometa, Classica, Bob, Gigi and for the last couple of years – Django. If the arena was quiet and the horse steady, we would canter together.  Sometimes, she’d fall asleep in my arms and if I could, we just kept riding.  There were days I told her all kinds of things and days I relished the quiet ride.  She never complained unless we didn’t do enough trotting or cantering.  I’d get a Facebook message from her or a note from her mom or one of her aides telling me that rides were fine, but she really liked to

“go fast.”  There were scares, like the time the horse tripped and went to his knees with Gabriela in my arms. I was horrified! Gabriela’s aid looked at her face and her smile was as wide as Texas.  She loved it.

She loved Greg and when he could, he’d take her on a trail ride.  It took Herculean strength to balance her body coming down hills and iron thighs to not squish her while going up them.  Greg

alone could do it.

Gabriela died Friday losing her battle with a nasty flu.  I wonder what I would have done differently if I’d known that her ride a couple of weeks ago was our last together.

Tomorrow I’m saddling up my red pony and galloping up the biggest hill I can find. I will hold Gabriela in my heart with me.  It will have to do.

For nine years, Gabriela taught me about bravery.  She knew a fall would kill her frail body, and she rode anyway.  Toughest horse girl I’ll ever know.

I was all of 22 years old when I hit a low point.

One minute I’m living my dream of working on a thoroughbred farm, the next minute I’m being chased across a parking lot by a 6’4” drunk ranch foreman hell bent on hurting someone. The ranch was bankrupt and all of our paychecks had just bounced. I was broke, I was scared and my brave move to live my dream was turning into a nightmare. I was too proud and too stubborn to call my folks or even my best girlfriends. There was only one place to go – to the side of my leggy horse Lad. He didn’t lecture or offer advice, he was simply present and he let me cry myself out. With his help, I was able to scrape up the dignity and strength to push on.

Fast forward ten years and it’s 2001. Now that I was fairly established in the horse business, I started pursuing my other ambition – to be a published author. I put my best foot forward and published a piece about my aging horse Lad. I led with the fact that a 24 year old horse had touched more lives than most people might. Not only had he served as my friend and leaning post these 12 years, but he was my constant companion in raising my impetuous and highly individual son. I poured my heart into the piece. Lad had been a racehorse, a show horse, a school horse, a racetrack pony and lastly a babysitter for weanlings. He’d spent his entire life serving everyone with everything he had.  It was the first piece of writing I’d ever gotten paid for. Lad had made another fantasy of mine come true; to be a professional writer.

Lad died on Joe Shelton’s ranch in 2002. I thought Lad’s story ended at that point and he was just a tender memory for me, my son and a few others.

Boy was I wrong. Hang on folks, this is where things turn mystical.

Just last month a Texas man found Lad’s story on our website and there is no telling how he did it. By admission, he’s not a horse person, but he Googled Lad’s racing name and there was my story (we had reposted it in 2008). He browsed the Square Peg Ranch website and picked up his phone. I was driving up the California coast on my way to the barn when his call came in.

“Is this Joel Brewster-Dunlap?”

“Um, this is Joell, can I help you?”

“My name is Terry and I’m calling from Dallas Texas. Do you remember a horse named Lite Lee Lad?”

Stop the truck.

I swallow hard. “Why yes Terry, he’s a horse I will never forget.”

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sir, you have my undivided attention.”

“Well, I’m not a horse person, but my Dad was, and he bred and raced Lite Lee Lad.  My Dad’s name was Lee, you see.  Even though he had an artificial leg, he worked in car parts sales as a counter sales person most of, if not all, of his career and he loved the races.  When he retired, he bought a fifth-wheel trailer and had a few horses – he raised Lad himself.  He followed his horses around the California and Arizona racing circuit.”

Terry stops and I realize he’s crying “Sorry m’am, this is kind of hard.”

“Go ahead Terry, take your time.”

“One night the races were at the Solano County fair in Vallejo and my dad was found slumped in his trailer, he’d had a massive stroke. I flew in from Texas, and when the doctors convinced my sister and I that he was indeed brain dead, we agreed to take him off life support and some hours later he was gone. But Lite Lee Lad kept racing with my uncle. Within a month or two, he was claimed away and I never knew where he went. My dad’s horse you see, with his name and everything and then they were both just gone. I never forgot that horse. And then I found your article and found out that he was with you. I was so happy and I just wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t find you. I held on to that article for years and I put it in Google the other day and I found you and Square Peg Ranch and you just don’t know how happy it makes me to know that Lite Lee Lad was part of what you do for kids and ex-racehorses.”

Both Terry and I have given up holding back tears. All I can do is thank him for his kindness, for his story and for finding me.

“I’m going to scan a couple of his win pictures and send them to you. Will that be okay?”

Of note; these photos are 34 years old – “Yes Terry, I would love to have them.”
Lite Lee Lad raced an astounding 46 times. For reference: Secretariat and Man O’ War both ran 21 times, Seattle Slew raced 17 times. He packed me and others over jumps for a decade, he was the key to me starting my first and second riding school and he spent his last days taking care of weanling foals. He was never famous and I never thought he meant much to anyone but me.

The day I received Terry’s call, I called my parents to tell them the story. My mother, also not a horse person said “I will always love Laddie because he kept my daughter from a nervous breakdown.”  All these years and I had no idea that my mother knew. Another gift from Lad.

Twelve years after his death, this hard-knocking gangly racehorse is still touching my life with grace and beauty. Now I know he’s also touching Terry’s life too. Terry told me he knows his father, Lee, would be overjoyed to know what his most beloved Lite Lee Lad had done.

Today I stand in awe of the power of a thoroughbred to unite us in our humanity and to build bridges. I honor your memory sweet Laddie and I am grateful for your service to all.

---

 

Joell Dunlap is the co-founder and executive director of Square Peg Ranch a non profit in Half Moon Bay that pairs horses who need a second chance with kids who know what it’s like to be a Square Peg (mainly, kids on the autism spectrum). Joell can be reached at joell@squarepegfoundation.org

“Clap along if you feel like Happiness is the Truth” Pharrell Williams – Happy

I’m pretty disconnected from the world of pop music. I learn about what’s popular from my students, their hip families and our teen and millennial volunteers.

I had however, fallen in love with Lorde’s “Royals.” So when a six year old student started belting out his own lyrics while cantering around the arena in my lap, I laughed and squealed with him as he sang “We can never be ROYALS, You can be a green bean!”

I lead a charmed life full of joy.

This week’s pop song might be my favorite of all time. One of our families visited and I won’t lie, this little guy can be a challenge.  Sometimes, he just needs to destroy things and the trick is finding a space and an activity where he can work through his struggles and keep himself, others, critters and equipment as safe as possible. He’s broken rocks, jumps, helmets, toys, our fire pit, earthworms and more.  We’ve had some ingenious ways to help him channel energy and anger and we’ve had to repair and replace some stuff. He’s also one of the brightest and neatest kids ever and a smile from him can make your entire week

When he and his sister visited we met him in the parking lot with Rickie, our feisty pony.  He wanted to head straight to the campsite, a 600 yard hike from his car so off we went, his dad and little sister in tow.  We’d had a week of rain and the campsite was soggy and our raft, which we’d forgotten to flip over, was pulled ashore and full of water.  He hopped from the pony and was in the raft, calling it his swimming pool before we could intervene.  It’s April and it’s the Coastside, so a warm day is about 62F.  In a few more moments, he was naked in his “swimming pool” and face down in the water blowing bubbles and licking the sides.  I gathered up his clothes and hung them to drip while he played.

Clap along if you feel like that’s what you want to do.”

Both his dad and I realized about 15 minutes in that he was getting chilled and we started thinking about

strategies to get him back to some dry clothes and warmth.Nothing seemed to work, he was loving the feeling of the water on his face and on his body, even if his lips were turning a little bit blue. We both looked at his wet clothes dripping on the fence and knew that getting him back in them was going to be a sensory nightmare. I squatted next to him while the pony grazed and started talking about Lady Godiva, the 11^th century noblewoman who rode her horse naked through the streets of the village to oppose the oppressive taxes her husband had waged against his tenants.  Our little swimmer was still lolling in the raft but I knew he heard me.  His little sister offered to be the mayor of our village if her brother, who we now called “Lord Godiva” would ride naked through our imaginary town and back to the barn.

Rickie our pony was wearing a wool square pad with a navajo blanket on top and I removed the navajo and told Lord Godiva that it was a warm and royal robe for his highness.  We lifted him like the nobleman he was onto his awaiting steed and covered his chilly shoulders with his royal robe and proceeded to ride back to the barn, with his sister the mayor telling everyone to “make way for the naked Lord Godiva.” We marched and pranced our way back to the barn.

I realized that Lord Godiva was singing quietly under his breath.  I leaned in and this is what he was singing “Because I’m happy. Because I’m happy.  Because I’m happeeeeeee.”

I really do lead a charmed and joyful life.  I’m so grateful for the trust and love of our families to trust us to follow their children and the beautiful and amazing places they take us. A simple reminder to stay present, stay joyful and “Clap along if you feel like Happiness is the Truth!”

And you know what that means?  It’s time to start planning your outfit for the best Kentucky Derby Party in the West!  Plan your day  now for the first Saturday in May!

click here to buy your tickets!

See photos of last year’s party. It was a feast for all the senses with polo, fashion and food!  Read some of the write ups:

Horse & Style Magazine

Sail Couture Blog

Half Moon Bay Chamber of Commerce Blog

It’s the spring party you don’t want to miss!  Click here to join us in our most important fundraiser of the year.

 

 

The New Year has us waxing nostalgic.  I’m famous for being a “non-holiday person” but I admit to using the short days and the long nights of December as a time to think and reflect and plan.What became clear as I thought about the amazing 2013 Square Peg had and the challenge and excitement 2014 will bring is that I, as Executive Director of Square Peg, need to answer the essential question  “What do I believe?”

A cup of tea at hand and a sleeping kitten on my feet, I pitched the reins at my heart and this is what appeared on the page.

 

 

 I believe that laughter gives us strength.

Thank you to all who are joining us in our Revolution of Kindness. Happy 2014.

One late night my tear stained cheeks and trembling body fled to the barn and poured my soul out to my favorite old thoroughbred. He quietly ate the saltine crackers I had brought him, and at that moment was when I realized that without him, I probably wouldn’t be here today.

Many places make me happy; beaches, my best friend’s house, and of course my favorite tea shop. But when someone asks where I am content, everyone knows my answer. It’s a place where I teach but also learn. I spend six days a week there, but it’s never enough. I don’t get paid, yet I spend over one hundred dollars a month to just be there. Square Peg Foundation is my home, and is the one true place where my heart aches to be. Square Peg is a barn that rescues horses from the race track and retrains them to use in a program which helps and teaches kids with special needs how to ride and care for an animal five times their size.

The reason it means so much to me was because four years ago I was a complete beginner, and over these past four years I have worked extremely hard to get to where I am today, and I am proud of that. Now, I am teaching lessons and retraining the horses, both of which I plan on doing full-time after college. The great thing about our barn is that no matter how much I teach the kids about riding or horse care, they manage to teach me more. These kids have so much depth to them and I often remind myself how lucky I am to be the one working beside these mini intellectuals. They really make me open my eyes, live in the present, and just enjoy this beautiful life I have created for myself. I love that now I am able to open doors for kids who were in my shoes four years ago, and hopefully help them find their passion in horses too. Although being 17 and knowing that this is exactly what I want to be doing for the rest of my life is a bit scary, I am grateful that I have found my passion so early on in life.

High school has been a roller-coaster, but the barn has kept me sane by providing a haven and an opportunity, and letting me be the one to choose my part in it. Being a part of this organization has taught me an abundance of lessons, through both riding and volunteering, and has made me who I am today. If there is ever a day that I am stressed, exhausted, or just not myself, spending a few hours with the kids will brighten up my entire upcoming week. The barn has opened opportunities for me, such as training jobs and grooming for a professional 3Day-Eventer, and has connected me with people who have now become mentors to me, and their passion for horses and kids has luckily been shared with me. It’s crazy to think that one place, just 15 minutes from my house, could change my entire life, but it’s true.

Without the kids, or the horses, or my close-knit barn family, I would not be the driven, accomplished, passionate, and sometimes completely silly 17 year-old I am today. So in all, this is the place I am content. A small barn nestled upon a hill, with amazing horses and amazing kids; a place that provides space for someone to find themselves and to save these unwanted but incredible wise animals. This place, Square Peg Foundation, is a place that I need in my life.

Please donate to Square Peg to support this work.

December snuck up on us with beautiful weather and short days.  It’s been an amazing year.

In March, we moved to our dream location. Tucked into a coastal canyon with ocean views, forests, a private pond, and beautiful facilities it’s perfect for the families we serve and for our animals.

In May, we built an eight-acre pasture for our retired horses.  They can live out their days as a herd on natural terrain.  While we can’t turn back the clock for our older horses, we see significant improvements in the movement and arthritis management.

In June, we conducted our biggest surfing and riding special needs family day ever!  Over 25 families joined us at the beach for a day of riding and surfing.  The local surfing community and the Boys & Girls Club – including the Junior Lifeguards – helped the kids in the ocean.

In July, we piloted a program to give first job experience to high school juniors and seniors. We hired interns from the local Mid-Peninsula High School to help us run the barn.  Each intern not only learned basic job skills, but by the end, showed real leadership.

By August, we had built our own onsite campground next to the pond.  In the late summer, we hosted three campouts for 13 families and for a very special group of at risk girls. The experience was transformative.  Families enjoyed riding, hiking, kayaking on the pond, fireside music, and first class food.  Children had breakthroughs in sleep patterns, cognitive and social behavior and – most importantly – family fun in nature.   All of the camps were provided free of charge. Words cannot express how important  this is for families.

2013 was a pivotal year for Square Peg.  We exceeded everyone’s expectations.  We have shown national leadership in the areas of recreation for autism families, in horse rescue and in developing meaningful job experiences for young adults with developmental and learning disabilities.  Our new facility gives us the opportunity to grow and continue our simple but important mission to turn “I wish” into “I can” for kids and young adults who know what it’s like  to be a Square Peg.

Question: “If I donate to Square Peg, where does the money go? Answer – here

 

We speak about tribe a lot.  As homo sapiens, we live best in community groups of 12 to 30 people.

When a new family arrives at the ranch, we usually see a family isolated, lonely, and frustrated.  Barraged with advice and declarations of how to “fix” their special needs child, they get advice from everywhere. The grocery store (“if you were just more strict with him”) and from well meaning relatives (“have you thought about military school?”). Even therapists, specialists, and teachers chime in with opinions.

What kind of a world would we occupy if these families could just be?  What if there was a place to celebrate being family, to feel encouraged, and to offer support? A meal eaten with other families while children played nearby.  Sound Utopian?

Most definitely not.

When we gather our magical family camps atop the ridge at Square Peg, we create tribe.  We eat together, play together, and tell stories together.  We sit at the water’s edge, let our guards down, and rely on each other.  Every single time, these tribal gatherings create something amazing.

Several weeks ago, another tribe invited me to screen a film entitled “Horse Boy” and to lecture on the Horse Boy Method, Rupert Isaacson’s technique for working with autism.  You should know that I will talk to anyone who offers me a microphone or a soapbox (or both).  So what did I do?  I packed up the film and some brochures and headed out knowing only that I would speak to a group of Chinese parents at a church in Saratoga.

When we arrived, several young adults with special needs were milling about.  It took them a minute (maybe less) to look me in the eye and call me “auntie.”  I felt at home.  I provided a brief introduction, dimmed the lights, rolled the film, and took a seat in the back while parents trickled in.  All too soon, the time was up and parents rushed out the back door to take their children out of class. Our host approached us with an honorarium, a plaque, and an invitation to join the group for dinner.

We accepted all three.

In the cafeteria across the courtyard from the church sanctuary, all of the families gathered together for a community cooked meal.  The food was simple and delicious and was served on brown McDonald’s trays.  Kids ran, played, and ate while banging on instruments and dancing.  Announcements were made, birthdays acknowledged, dish-washing assignments made, and plans formalized for the next meeting.

We learned that the group started in Fremont in the 90’s and now boasts several hundred families.  This Saratoga group is the original group’s first satellite and is growing quickly. As dinner wound down and the tables put away, groups formed—groups for mothers, for older kids, for fathers, and more.

I was astounded to the soles of my dusty boots.

Some of us perceive Chinese culture to be punishing toward special needs families.  Shame often isolates these families even more so than in the US.  How did this group engage the best of Chinese culture to form a community of caring, celebration, and tribe?  A tribe that clearly responds to the needs of each member.  Here’s my real question—why aren’t we all doing this?  Why is this special?  Celebrating family with food and music, song and dance, art and support, is surely the best of who we can be. It happens every other Saturday in a cozy little church in Saratoga.

I’m honored to be part of this community.

Let’s start more tribes.  Let’s honor the family and create communities to break the spell of isolation. Help Square Peg be that blessed space for families to celebrate tribe.  Parent groups come and go.  Groups where moms can “get away” are terrific but I’ve seen power struggles and overworked organizers cause most to crumble.  What about groups that include the whole family—siblings and fathers—and offer something for everyone as well as celebrate community all while not trying to fix something?

I’ve lived it, I’ve seen it, and I’m here to tell you it’s very, very good.

 Our latest training project is a lazy horse. She’s very intelligent and she makes me think. But I’m not used to lazy.  I like Thoroughbreds.  They are sensitive and they love to please.  Like me, they are in constant movement and they like to be around happy others.  They get over things quickly.  This young mare is a mystery to me.  I have to constantly  re-think how I might change her perception of what I want and what is expected of her.  It’s her nature to be quiet and wait for her next meal and she’s willing to turn her butt to you and kick you out of her stall if you mess with that expectation.  She’s not mean, she just isn’t motivated to please you and engage in a lively and prolonged discussion about he wonders of a two stride in-and-out jump combination or the thrill of a three hour hilly trail ride.

All horsemen know, whether instinctively or expressly that training boils down to a simple equation: stress motivates and release teaches.  Repetition will reinforce, but the training is simple.  Not easy, but simple.  Make it easy for the horse to do the right thing and he will do it every time. But the real struggle I have with this mare is how do I change her notion that going out under saddle isn’t drudgery it’s partnership?  Somehow I need to affect her personal outlook on life.

Last night, I attended a lecture at the Menlo Park bookstore Kepler’s.  The lecture was given by one of my personal heroes and I’m lucky enough in life to also call her a friend.  She’s a pioneer in global issues of women’s health.  She’s traveled the world to meet with women in war-torn countries, natural disaster recovery and places of untold poverty and disease to help change the way women see themselves so that they become educated and empowered to the benefit of their entire community.  Yeah, she’s bad-ass, no way around it. Here’s the link to her latest book: From Outrage to Courage.  

In the Q&A portion of the evening, people asked questions about where hope is to be found and where change is most needed and where it’s really getting traction.  We talked about sub-Saharan Africa, about inner city India,  rural South America and more.  Despite some awful statistics, Anne was hopeful and excited by the ideas and actions of young people using technology and energy to make important and lasting change.  I raised my hand and told my story about the outreach we do for  a group serving women right here in San Francisco.  These women were still children and they had been involved in the sex trade.  They had already served time in correctional facilities.  I told the story of how these children committed savage acts of violence on each other in the 60 hours we spent together.  I wanted to know how we focus on the culture issues we face in our own backyards of women (children) who believe that violence is a normal part of daily life?

My friend the wise teacher sighed.  She looked me in the eye and acknowledged that what I said was indeed true.  Her daughter chimed in and told of her mentoring experiences where she was floored by the amount of violence that was part of the daily makeup of the lives of local poor girls.

After the lecture, we gathered with a gaggle of people to have a glass of wine and enjoy a warm fall evening outside the cafe next to the bookstore.  We talked about teenagers, we talked about food and books.  When I went to leave, my friend grabbed my by the elbow and said “your story left me speechless Joell.  I don’t know what to say.  But you know, you don’t have to take this on.”  We promised to meet up for a cup of tea next month and discuss things further. I hugged her and thanked her and headed out for my hour long drive home.  My whole body ached.  It ached because somehow, I do have to take this on.  I know that we can’t right all the wrongs in the world.   I know we are just one tiny underfunded organization and that my culture is so vastly different from the girls around that campfire and that they see me as foreign and “outside.”  We just need a plan, a vision of how start to make change in how these girls see themselves of what is possible and what is so desperately destructive.  We need to help them feel or be safer so that they don’t react as if they had rabies and subscribe to a “kill or be killed” mentality.

As I worked with my young horse this morning, I reminded myself “stress motivates, release teaches.”

       Release. When the stressor is removed or resolved, or when it just stops.  That’s when change happens.  So maybe, just maybe my crazy notion to take these girls into the beautiful coastal hills with good food and fresh air and silly dogs and go playing on the beach and riding horses to see ocean views isn’t that crazy afterall.  When we took these girls to the beach surfing, the girls from the local surf club served them, and then we were joined by the girls from the junior life guards and then word got out to the local women’s surfers and I looked into the water and there were 30 girls and women serving these four girls from the city.  That night around the campfire, our teenage volunteers took the girls on a night hike to visit the horses. For a short while, they were all just girls on an adventure. There was magic. Everyone was celebrating life and there was laughter and movement and fun.  My heart was filled with hope and pride in my community and in the power of women to make change.

Maybe that release, that kindness, that space to breathe and think and be safe – maybe that’s all there is and maybe what we’ve got to offer is

actually enough.

 

“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.” Terry Tempest Williams