This was the closest thing I could find to a photo of a horse in my own photo archive. Someday
I will learn how to take photos from anywhere on the Web. Would be interesting if the Derby
were run by elephants.
Since moving to Louisville 16 years ago, I blush to admit that I have not missed a single Derby, though one year I caught it on the radio. My friend S. was talking as cynically as you could imagine about the Derby today, but what was on her TV when I called her back around five pm?
I had a friend who told me she would NEVER EVER come to Louisville and I have tried to figure out if that was because she disapproved of racing horses or because of the chemicals and other unpleasant stuff in the air.
Anyway, now it's time for me to gloat about how I picked the second place finisher, Bluegrass
Cat. My pick for first, Steppenwolfer, came in third. None of which matters of course because I didn't bet. My dad's horse came in twelth.
Everyone in the house is now asleep--feline, canine, and human. It's a time when I can be alone with myself and give myself hell about my uncritical enjoyment of horse racing. Unpleasant as this may sound, I enjoy certain traditions--enjoyed graduating in the bicentennial class from my high school, enjoy Thankgiving and Christmas, and enjoy the Kentucky Derby. That sounds just too pink and fuzzy for words.
We're responsible for more than just our actions--we're responsible for our thoughts and feelings too--many believe. So I can't argue that it's Not My Fault that I watch the Derby on TV every year, that I get excited about it (even if I haven't heard of most of the horses until I see them heading down the track to the starting gate). I can't say: "Well, I moved to Louisville and they crammed this horseracing thing down my throat and told me to swallow--at gunpoint."
My first Derby was also the first time someone forced me to eat venison--it was my dad,
and I don't blame him, but I pray at least once a day that I never have to eat venison again to avoid hurting someone's feelings (see how I play the Victim???).
I can't think of a better way to close anymore than to just say I don't want to keep on typing.