Arabian Horse Stories

A Tribute to Molly

Sixteen years ago on Halloween, I lost my mother to a lengthy, debilitating illness. Because she, too, had been a rider in her youth, mother was always supportive of my interest in horses and enjoyed horse shows and watching the foals we raised. The year before her death, she asked me if we were planning to breed our mare, Baskkar (Robask x Sukar), any time soon. I said that we would like to, but we couldn’t afford the stud fees. She decided that her role would be to find the right stallion for Baskkar.

Because mother had had a series of strokes, it was sometimes hard for her to express herself. She was often aphasic, unable to speak or comprehend our words. Still, when she called me one day, I could hear the excitement in her voice. She had found the perfect stallion for Baskkar.

"What’s more," she told me, "He’s in Indiana." I asked her who this horse was and she immediately said, "*Aabanat! That *Banat son that the Paras are standing."

I had seen the horse before and actually thought it was an excellent idea to stay in the Polish bloodlines, so my husband and I booked to *Aabanat in the spring of 1986. Late that summer, we took Baskkar to mom’s house and unloaded the pregnant mare in mother’s driveway so that she could visit with the mare. Baskkar walked right down the sidewalk onto the front porch and put her head into my mother’s lap. The wheelchair didn’t bother her a bit. As she stroked the mare, my mother said, "Isn’t she lovely? She’s carrying a ‘special’ one, you know."

Then, late in the fall, mother fell ill for the last time. We took care of her at home because she intensely disliked the hospital. When I arrived at the house after hearing that mom had taken a turn for the worse, my father made it clear that she wasn’t going to come out of this illness. I walked down the hall and into mother’s room. She was somewhat incoherent but motioned me over to the bedside.

"I’m not going to make it through this one, Mary," she said. I just shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "And I want you to do something for me." I said I’d do anything for her, no matter what.

"When that mare foals in the spring, if she has a filly, I want you to name her after me."

Those were the last words I heard her say.

In the spring of 1987, I received a phone call from Jan Decker, who had been taking care of Baskkar because I was working and couldn’t keep an eye on her. It was my 40^th birthday. Jan’s voice came through very clearly, "How would a bay filly suit you?"

My Molly Banat has been in my life from that moment until today. She has safely carried me on trail rides, horse shows, distance events and parades. Recently, she has found a whole new job description: sidesaddle and reenactment mount extraordinaire.

When I became interested in riding sidesaddle about three years ago, Molly became my sidesaddle horse. I bought a cheap used sidesaddle and then graduated to a better version. I even showed several times at Class A shows and did quite well. At this time, I began a friendship with a transplanted Oregonian named Dottie Linville who single-handedly began a sidesaddle club, Hoosier Ladies Aside. I joined and attended demonstrations with them all over the state. With help from the club members, I was able to put together a couple of historically correct sidesaddle outfits that I wore to several reenactments. Then, last fall, a group of us rode at the World Sidesaddle Federation’s Ride Aside 2002 held at the Kentucky Horse Park, October 11-13.

This event was a fabulous experience. There were sidesaddle enthusiasts from all over the world as well as internationally known clinicians. Not only was it enormously fun, it was incredibly informative about all of the nuances of sidesaddle. Roger Philpot and Robert Jenkins came from England to help us with our saddle fittings, and Roger did several clinics. Other top sidesaddle riders, judges and trainers worked with us each day. We were like sponges, soaking up any information we could about our discipline.

On Sunday, there was an all sidesaddle horse show. Molly and I entered three classes--Saddle Seat-type Pleasure, Equitation and the Historical Costume. I tried very hard to put into effect the things that I’d learned from the previous days. As I stood in the line-up at the end of my first class, my thoughts went back to that cold, rainy day and the last conversation I’d ever had with mom. The announcer was calling out placings as I thought about how much my mother would have loved this event. How proud she would have been of Molly, her ‘special’ one. Suddenly, I heard some cheers and realized that my number had been called as the winner of the Saddle Seat Pleasure class. As we were in the very next class, Molly and I headed out to the rail for the Saddle Seat Equitation class.

Anyone who knows me knows very well that I am not an equitation rider and never have been one. But my daughter tells me that I was the picture of calm and concentration as I rode the class. Molly worked very hard at keeping me right in the middle of that saddle. What a trooper she was. Again, as we stood in the lineup, I thought about my mother, of her special role in Molly’s life, of her poise and easy charm and her ability to make a horse relax. Again we took first place. Once more Molly had carried me to a win. Her steadiness and care for me had earned us that blue ribbon. Then later, we were awarded the blue ribbon in the Most Historically Correct class.

When I finally returned to the barn, I burst into tears. As I felt so much emotion that went all the way back to my childhood. I thought how lucky I was to have such a fine horse, how thrilled my mother would have been about these special wins on this ‘special’ horse and what a wonderful gift this mare has given me. She allows me to connect with that essence of my relationship with my mother. Although mom has been gone for over 16 years, I know she is with me, every time I throw a leg over My Molly Banat, that ‘special’ mare.