The Kyyote's Howl

The family had been breeding, training, and racing their horses for generations.  They were passionate in their pursuit of owning a champion.  Through the years, they had taken many horses to the tracks, and gotten them into the gates, but more often than not, it was their horses that finished last.  Other owners, for years had laughed at them behind their backs, at their methods, trainers, horses, and even the family, itself.  Every owner dreamed of owning and racing a champion.  But that same dream, that dream of a champion in the minds and hearts of the family, had become a ridiculous joke in horse racing circles.  The family’s business, hopes and dreams of winning horses, had become an embarrassment to some members of the family.  Some of the family had kept the hope and dream alive in their hearts, but over the years of humiliation they had developed a survival tactic of lowered expectations so that they wouldn’t feel foolish themselves, or appear foolish to others.  Others of the family, who loved the dream, loved the life of being with the ones they loved, doing what they loved doing, and the sharing of the same dream, continued to try and catch the elusive brass ring.

At family reunions the talk would invariably include the brief period during Great Grandpa’s time as the head of the family business, when there had been a couple of seasons of relative success.  To be truthful, relative success meant that they didn’t finish dead last or nearly so, in every race they entered.  Those were the seasons when they had actually finished in the money a few times.  That talk always led to the season when Grandpa had been successful enough to get their horse entered into one of the big regional stakes races.  Expectations had been high for that race, and although the horse ran a respectable race, when they crossed the finish line the favorite surged ahead to win by a half a length.  Pride and success are measured differently by those who have little of either.

Grandpa had seen enough of his family’s business to know that it was nearly impossible to live up to the expectations that he had given rise to.  Even as the family had taken their horse to the track to run in that stakes race, Grandpa, seizing the opportunity when it came knocking, he had left the family business, taken a big raise, and a postion with a bigger and more successful racing family’s team.  They felt that if Grandpa could win with the resources he had had in his family’s business, that he could surely make them into a powerful force, what with their considerably better resources.  After a few seasons, seasons of modest success, he had been let go.  He eventually found his way back to the family business.

After Grandpa had left, the family had brought in a number of young, up and coming men, and old veterans to run the business.  Each had failed miserably.  Each had their excuses.  Some of the excuses were often repeated ones.  The horses on hand weren’t winners, to needing more time to develop their newly acquired horses were pretty standard.  If a veteran followed a younger man, it was common to say that the training hadn’t been tried and true, and if the older man was followed by a young man, you could almost bet money that the younger man would claim that the methods used were out of date.  Occasionally, the family was blamed for lack of support, or the expectations were too high.  The one constant was the failure to win.

After many years the parade had come to an end, and Grandpa’s son had taken over the family business. At first, he had experienced considerable success.  Family members, some of whom had been reluctant to mention their connection to the family business, and some of whom had never even made themselves known to the family, began to appear at family get togethers, along with those who had faithfully attended all of the family functions over the years.  Those reunions were joyous affairs.  Grins, and warm smiles greeted all, along with bear hugs and kisses.  Laughs and raucous shouts replaced the whines and complaints of the past.  There was an energy and excitement that seemed to envelope the family like a fog of nitrous oxide at those reunions.  Minor irritations were replaced by the warmth of brotherhood.  The scars of old wounds that had been caused by a continual picking at the scabs began to fade.

But, just a quickly as the success had come, it began to fade.  Yes, there were still many more successes than there had been in the bad old days, but expectations had been raised.  With the early success, investments had been made in the practice track, and the paddocks.  The entire farm had seized the opportunity that the energy of success had brought to put on new paint and to update and replace old equipment.  The success that had raised expectations brought changes that raised expectations even higher.  And, there were all of those long lost relatives that had begun showing up.  They had perhaps the highest expectations of all.  Most of them had not been around during the years of disappointment and despair.  They had never experienced the insidious nature of those years of losing.  They hadn’t endured.  They didn’t know anything but the here and now.

The next few seasons brought a modicum of success, offset, to a degree, by poor finishes that some saw as a return to the bad old days.  Horses that seemed to be poised for a season of finishing in the money brought disappointment instead.  The past year had been especially hard to take.  Nagging injuries had taken the family’s expected top thoroughbred from favorite to longshot by the end of the season.  On the basis of some wins against lesser competition, the horse had qualified for a regional stakes race at one of the larger tracks.  When the bell rang and the gates sprung open, their horse was the last one out.  For the first half of the race, the horse looked like it was drugged, and was moving in slow motion.  The jockey appeared not to notice that the pack was furlongs ahead of his mount.  At the half way point of the race, the horse and the rider seemed to finally realize that they were in a race.  Furiously taking the whip to the horse’s flanks, the horse responded as best it could.  It cut the lead considerably, but much of that was due to the winning jockey knowing that there was no need to push his horse and risk injury in a race that was already won.

When the family came together soon after that final race of the season the atmosphere of the gathering was different from all that any of the family could remember.  In the past, many had seen the beat down, but familiar, grim determination generated by another season of losing races.  Like rainy days in Seattle, nobody looked forward to them, but that’s life in Seattle.  Gatherings after the rare winning seasons were accompanied by the joy  that one would expect from those who had finally been blessed with success after years of failure.  A mixture of smiles and frowns, compliments and curses, would be a normal responce to a season of mixed results.  The newly found family that had appeared with the early successes had slowly, but steadily ceased to find the desire, or need, to make the trips to family events.  They had returned to the lives they were leading for all of those years before success had come to the business.  But, this time, this gathering, the atmosphere was charged.  Those who still came to family get togethers were those closest to the family, and the family business.  These were the ones who cared.  These were the ones who were invested in the success or failure of the business.  Theirs were the emotions of those involved, and not the emotions of those on the periphery.  These were the ones for whom winning and losing directly affected their lives.  The disappointment of those who were disappointed had a heavy dose of anger, frustration, and destruction mixed in.  Meeting their level of negative energy required those who believed that the business was in the right hands, and was making strides, to muster the same level of positive energy lest they be thrown aside and be seen and treated as worn, and useless-no not just useless, but obstacles standing in the way.  That gathering saw a divide in the family, a family that had always been together, in feast or famine.  Along with success had come two unwelcome twins -dissention and condemnation.  And these two had made their presence felt.  Feeding on the energy of the disappointed, they had had a big impact on the gathering.  Physical confrontations were avoided, but barely.  Rifts began to appear where civility and family bonds once held the family together.

The end of the season, and the gathering that had followed, also signaled the beginning of the off season.  For those who had been left angered and disgusted, it had not come soon enough.  They had seen more than their share of disappointing losses.  For those who leaned more toward seeing the past season as continued steps in the right direction, the break gave the horses much needed time to heal, and the trainers time to prepare the horses for the season to come.  With time, the strength and fervor of both camps began to subside.  More and more, it became harder to muster the energy to fight about what had been.  The past was in the past.  It wasn’t forgotten, but it wasn’t worth fighting over.  Fighting over it wouldn’t change it.  Exhaustion brought peace, first.  As the days rolled by, the peace, and the warmth of summer, saw the seedlings of renewed hope and excitement spring forth.  A young, up and coming jockey was brought in. There were a number of two and three year olds that showed promise.  Talk of the family turned to the next season’s hopeful winners and wins, training, the upcoming schedule and venues, travel, competition, and glory to be had.

The wheel of life continued to turn.  It turned in the same way it had turned so many times before. With each new turn, comes another chance.  In life, all that can be asked for is a chance.  The greater the odds against, the greater the rewards.  Sometimes the desire to win overshadows the fact that it is great just to be in the race-to have a chance.

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep.-The Byrds

The new season, the renewed purpose,  was just a few turns away.