We had a horse in the Derby

Yesterday was the last Saturday in April, which means that next Saturday will be the first Saturday in May.  It has been a beautiful spring in the bluegrass, but it is time for the racing season to move from Lexington to Louisville.  Time for the Run for the Roses.  I have my mint infused simple syrup already in the frig; it will steep all week.

Speaking of bluegrass, I finally got a clear vision on what that looks like.  You can see the small blue flowers in the grass in our back yard.

Anyway, we love to tell stories in my family.  I love to tell stories.  One of my favorite stories is that we had a horse in the Derby, in 1946.  He was named Kendor, after named for Uncle Kent  and Aunt Dorcas.

Dorcas at 9 years old

Kent 1941

The family had moved from St. Louis to Central Kentucky after a particular bit of good fortune revolving around an oil field in Illinois.  Dorcus had loved horses from early on and Grandfather was ready to indulge in his dream of being a gentleman farmer and horseman.  As my friend Kim says, the best way to make a small fortune in the horse business is to start with a large one.

Grandfather Denzil talks with the jockey

Kendor was a mudder, which means he ran better on a wet track.  It rained leading up to the Derby in 1946 was not wet enough on race day to give him the advantage he needed.  I'd heard about this race forever, but always wanted to know a little more.  Then we found the broadcast and the Friday Courier Journal article about the race. Listen for the call ending with "As you might expect" in describing Kendor's last place finish. That part still stings just a little bit, actually.

Aunt Leslie was at that race with the UK band before she met Uncle Donn.  They were married in the summer of 47, a little more than a year later.  Uncle Kent would maintain a life long interest in thoroughbred horse racing and make a career out of it, as editor of the Blood-Horse magazine.

Now, some of the family stories are apocryphal, or at least verging on it.  My favorite part of the derby story is that there is proof that it is true.  Proof that is easier to share at a dinner party than an obscure old recording.  All KY folks know about the derby highball glasses.   Many don't know about the loser cups.

You can see Kendor listed at the bottom of that middle row.

I'm glad to be living in horse country again.

The Park

Cousin Bryan calls it "The Park" and, after all, it's his land, so we call it "The Park".  I have a Junior Park Ranger pin

in my hat, so it's clear that I'm official as I do my multiple daily rounds.

The two terriers want to be there all the time. It's their exercise and their adventure.  All I have to do is say "Let's go to the Park" and they are up and ready to head out the door.

Sparky checking the water below the dam

Scout checking the debris pile

We spent several afternoons last summer on the kayak.  Sparky especially loved the rides.  I'm ready to be back on the water.  It needs to warm up a little, because sometimes getting in or out of the kayak can be a wet transfer.

It strikes me that I wrote about the creek and the dam in 2008, before I had even an inkling that I would live here.  Be careful what you wish for...

We had lots of great snows this winter, and even had the creek freeze enough to stand/glide on it some:

But spring is finally coming. And after that, summer.  The best part of the park is the tire swing. Resurrecting a multi-generational tradition, we are once again jumping into the creek off of the tire.  Best we did in 2013 was 5 on the tire at a time.  I think we made 9 back in the 70s, but then, we were smaller in the 70s.  Can't wait for things to warm up just a little more.

The Elkhorn is beautiful all year round, and I draw peace and strength from my time here. 

Come visit us out on the creek.

MS Walk 2014

If you are in a hurry, here is the donation link.

If it seems like I just wrote about the MS walk, it seems that way to me a little bit as well.  The Lexington walk is shifting from fall to spring, so the current walk is upon us again already.  Consistent with life for us in the bluegrass, I know the development manager for the KY chapter for the National MS society, Mary Carabella.  She explained to us when she came to visit the house that there were a lot of factors involved in changing the time, but assured me that the walk will only happen once a year, and will remain a spring event going forward.

Our walk history is interesting, at least to me.  You can read about Mary Anne's progress, and why the advances that this walk funds are important to us in these earlier posts:

MS Walk 2009

MS Walk 2010

MS Walk 2013

There were many more walks than that, but I didn't start writing until fall of 2008.

For the annual update, the MS news is positive here at Millstream 2.0.  Mary Anne is doing regular physical therapy, using an electrical stimulation device that does amazing things for her walking.  It even minimizes the muscle tremors she has in her legs, at least for a while.  She is also just beginning to experiment with a weighted vest that makes more difference than you would think a few ounces could make.

Mary Anne's energy level is good enough that she is knitting again on a regular basis, participating in activities at church, and is out and about a good bit.  We appreciate your help in the past, and are always grateful when any of you can contribute again.

Donate to MS Walk on Mary Anne's behalf

MA and niece Kate last May

The walk is on May 31, and we will have to make it a virtual walk on that day.  We are having a house full of Australians, and will be celebrating cousin Lucy's wedding on that Saturday.  But I hope that will not diminish the support that so many of you have given in the past.  We are proud to participate in this event, and to help raise money for such a good cause.

Thank you for your support.  It means more than you all can know.

MS Walk 2013 recap

MS Walk 2013 on Saturday was a great success.  I had the largest total dollars for an individual walker, a real tribute to the love of many for Mary Anne.  Many thanks again to all who contributed.

It's not to late to add your support, if you are interested.

March Madness Marching Band

The walk begins

Lots of walkers

Hay rolls in the distance.  Certainly not Piedmont Park in ATL

Pretty sunflowers

The band warms up for the after party

Walkers return

Sponsor Tents

MS Walk 2013

MA at MS walk 2007

Knitting my sweater at the MS Walk

I have not walked to raise money for MS in 3 years, but will be walking again on 9/14.  You can read about the saga that caused me to miss the event for so long; it is a blessing to be settled enough to walk for this great cause again.  Please sign on to my page and donate, if you are so inclined.

Donate Here

For the first update ever, I can report that Mary Anne is actually better.  She has been taking Amyprya for 9 months now, and done some pretty intensive physical therapy.  Her gait is smoother, her stamina is better and her confidence while walking is much improved.  Pretty much a miracle drug.

Also, she has been off the interferon shots and talking a pill, Gilenya, for about two years to as the disease modifier.  That's a fancy way of saying taking that pill slows the progression of MS.  But doing that with a caplet once a day is infinitely better than the shot that made her feel like she had the flu every week.

The cooler climate in KY has also been an improvement.  There are still days where it is too hot for herself to go out, but they are more rare here.

So, all in all, the disease is less of a burden than it has been sometimes.  We are grateful to all who have given to the MS society in the past, and hopeful that we can raise money again to further this cause.

Sparky at 2009 walk

The green chair is empty

What a lovely graveside service today for Aunt Becky; the rector said it was the best he'd ever been to.  Sister Sophia spoke, because the immediate family couldn't get the words out.  The parable of immortality is below.

Mary Anne and I were privileged to be Becky's next door neighbors for a little more than a year; the Park will never feel quite the same without her.  Glad to think that Uncle Hall is the happiest man in heaven.

Becky's obituary

A parable of immortality by Henry Van Dyke

http://www.spirit-path.net/parableimmortality.htm

"I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!'

Gone where? Gone from my sight ... that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There she goes!' there are other eyes watching her coming and their voices ready to take up the glad shouts 'Here she comes!'"

~ by Henry Van Dyke ~

An Eventful Spring

In February of 1997, we moved into our house on Sequoyah Drive in Buckhead (inside the Perimeter in Atlanta, GA).  We had been in a small house nearby there for 6 years,

The Dump (in honor of Margaret Mitchell)

and had clearly outgrown it.  Eleanor’s piano lessons made us feel like the piano was on top of our head.  I remember I was out of town while MA was house hunting and when we were talking one night, she said she had seen the house we wanted.  It had a big kitchen and an Alpharetta master bath.

Work was going well at that point, although I think I was getting a little too smarty-pants about some of my management responsibilities.  I had an employee come into my office on Friday afternoon and inquire about sick policy.  My response was something along the lines of “I haven’t missed a day for sick in the 6 years since we started this company, so I’m not sure what the sick policy ought to be.  Just come to work.”

Back to the move.  Selling Ridgemore was the best house sale we ever had.  We weren't leaving the area, we had no job pressure, we just wanted a bigger house.  So I was able to negotiate from a very strong position and we did well with that sale.  As with most of our moves, I tried to get from closing to packing to closing to loading within a few days.  We were well on our way to that, when the corporate seller began to become problematic.  As we were threatened with a delay in closing, I told the selling realtor that we had our key and we had reserved our moving van and we would be in that afternoon, closing or not.  We closed at 11am.

By the second weekend in the house, it was time for a very fun chore - going to buy a bigger TV for the den.  Eleanor and I had a long list of errands.  I remember feeling just a little twinge in my belly at the Target as we got the TV paid for, but didn’t think anything of it.  By the time I woke up on Sunday, however, the pain was bad enough that we decided to stay home from church, which almost never happened.  I felt better as the day progressed and we decided to go forward with our plans to have dinner and bridge with the Martins that night.  Dan was bringing a bottle of Dom Perignon as his house warming gift (still the only time we’ve ever had that, despite champagne being MA’s favorite drink).

Sunday night my stomach felt worse, and by Monday morning I went straight to the doctor.  I had an MRI, confirming Dr. Dan’s immediate diagnosis of diverticulitis.  I got my prescription for heavy antibiotics, and went through 10 days with my mouth tasting like nails, but my belly not hurting.  At the end of that course of therapy, the pain returned, so I went to even stronger oral antibiotics.  One was TID and the other BID.  The TID ran out first, and by mid afternoon of the day I didn’t have a noon dose the pain was back.  I was on a business trip, so after a painful flight home, I called Dr. Dan.  He told me he’d done all he could, and he’d have to introduce me to someone with a knife.

We went in the next day and I was admitted to the hospital.  I was on more antibiotics, IV this time, to try to calm down the infection enough for surgery.  When we called my folks, TGP had MA hit me hard on the foot to see if I was really sick.  When that hurt incredibly badly, he conceded that maybe I did need to be in the hospital.  We played hospital bridge with the Martins, and spent 6 days with friends coming by the hospital.  This was the first annual Faithmates ski trip, and Matthews Gwynn et al called me from the hot tub in Utah to tell me they wished I was there.  MA had her folks come in from SC so they could watch the girls and she could stay in the hospital with me.

As the length of prep time became obvious, father-in-law Ira determined he needed to return home so he could work.  Mother-in-law Anna stayed at the house watching the girls.  Ira drove home in the hardest rainstorm any of us ever experienced along I-20.  The next day, as Anna was at our house watching the girls, she was speaking with Ira on the phone.  His speech became slurred and he dropped the phone and wouldn’t answer. Anna managed to disconnect the line and call their neighbor, also a doctor.  Bernie came over immediately, found Ira on the floor and called the ambulance.  Ira got to the hospital in time for them to administer TPA.  He became, literally, the poster boy for that drug, as it led to a remarkable recovery from his stroke. I wish I had a picture of the poster.

But I get ahead of myself.  MA was at the hospital with me, a day away from my surgery.  Anna was at our house with the girls, but needed to get home to the hospital for her husband.  Flights were all sold out, so we called our friend Lindsay.  He was Diamond Medallion with Delta at the time, so claimed Anna was his mother-in-law and got her on a flight to Columbia, SC.  The Wharton grad was forever known in the Horton household as “that nice southern gentleman”.

To cover kid-sitting on our side, MA called Muv and Soph.  Sophia came up from Charlotte and Muv flew in from San Diego.  Mary Anne was at the hospital with me during surgery and had to shoo my sister out afterwards when she made me laugh, before my body had recovered enough to laugh.  I have done fine since 1997 without those 18 inches of colon.

Recovery was slow but steady.  Months later, one of our new neighbors (this story is so long you forgot we were just moved in, eh?) said her daughter had asked her about the sad looking man in his bathrobe that walked just a little bit up and down the street.

Ira and I both made it through our ordeals fairly well, and tend to remember each other especially around mid-March.  My favorite part of the aftermath was that October, when we had PtHalloween at my company, and one of my colleagues dressed up as me.