When she was young they told her to never cross the busy highway to see her friends and ride horses but she did, almost every day.
They told her that if she wasn’t going to ride the school bus home after school, then don’t call for a ride home from the riding stable across from the school. After riding she stepped on a nail in the barn and then limped three miles home.
They told her in the fourth grade that she couldn’t play softball because sports weren’t for girls. So she rode horses instead, every chance she could.
They told her in her twenties that she couldn’t make as much money as the man she was training, because he had a wife and child to support and she lived at home and didn’t need the money. So she quit the job.
They said she couldn’t apply to the state university because they would never accept her. Yet the state college she attended was bought out by the state university and now her diploma bears its name.
They told her she could never play the clarinet well enough to get above the third chair in the high school band. But after graduating high school she was selected as Lead Clarinet in the inter-school summer band. At the summer’s end she never touched the clarinet again. She had proved that she could do it.
They told her that she’d never learn to jump a horse, nor should she as it was too dangerous. But one night at a private lesson she jumped a course with 24” jumps on a tall, brown Thoroughbred and felt exhilarated with the accomplishment. But she, having proven that she could do it, never jumped a horse again and regretted the decision.
They told her she couldn’t buy a horse. But she bought a dark-Golden Palomino mare and spent hours trotting through the New England countryside, and relished the deep smell of the horse’s scent on her clothes and hands.
They told her she could never win the highest score in a trial with her Golden Retriever from the Novice A (beginning) classes but she did, an honor reserved for only a few trainers.
They told her she could never cross-country ski. Then she took classes and skied every weekend. Finally she made the naysayer ski with her. He told her to stop because he was exhausted and couldn’t keep up with her.
They told her that she could never make it through an Emergency Management Technician I class, even if the teacher allowed her entrance into the class. But she was accepted into the class by a female teacher. She passed the class with an A and also passed the state EMT I certification, going on the take the EMT II class as well. But she never became a Paramedic, having proven that she could take the classes and do the ride-along with a Paramedic.
They also said she could never be a Realtor but she took the classes, passed the state exam and became a realtor, only to realize that to survive she would need to keep her day job. So she gave up her realtor’s license.
They told her she could never work in a stressful environment but she did, for twenty-one years, or that she could afford to retire at fifty-seven but she did.
They told her she could never afford her own house or that when she retired during an economic downfall she could never sell it, but she owned the house for years and sold it within five months, making a decent profit.
They told her she could never drive alone across country. It was too dangerous. But she and her red Border Collie did and together they had a memorable trip.
They said that the County would never allow a dog training building to be built on her property. But they did and the building is her dream that finally came true.
They said she couldn’t survive alone but she has.
They said she wouldn’t be happy but she is.
I believe in myself! Why can’t “They”?