Derby Hats, Horses and Mint Juleps

All eyes were on Churchill Downs Racetrack on Saturday including those belonging to most of us living on my continuum care campus. We had a Kentucky Derby hat making contest and picnic followed by a viewing party where we sipped mint juleps. I'm always up for anything artsy-fartsy so I of course I entered the contest, although I must admit that I resented spending money on something I'd only wear once. After seeing some of the other entries I knew I didn't have a chance of winning. But that was okay. I decided that I could add a long ribbon to my hat after the contest and the resulting hat now hangs on my door as summer decor. Resentment mitigated. 

When the contest was being discussed one night over dinner, the Art Professor asked why we had to vote on the best hat and award first, second and third place prizes. "Just the experience of creating the hats should be enough." I was quick to reply with, "Speak for yourself! We're too old for participation trophies." Everyone laughed and that shot her idea down without another word from anyone. I'll admit it, I'm competitive when it comes to arts and crafts---and mahjong. I wanted to win but I thought the better hats took their rightful places in the contest. (Photos below.) The woman in charge of the contest gave us all a small plastic horse for entering so we did get 'participation trophies' of sorts. You've got to love the humor around a place like this. 

If you're a long time reader here, you might remember two Christmas's ago when the Art Professor caused a controversy with her entry in the gingerbread house contest. It was a bombed-out house in the Gaza Strip that needed and came with a written explanation of what we were looking at. Some people thought it had no place in a Christmas themed event. Some thought it was god-awful ugly and I thought it was poorly executed but there is a reason for that: the art professor is going blind. I give her a lot of credit, though, she keeps making art and participates in anything creative around here. Her current project is crocheting mushrooms that she wants to display on a rotting log. Big ones, little ones. A couple of them look like penises that had us all laughing our guts out at lunch one day. She couldn't see the resemblance or didn't care which made it even funnier. She loves it when her art creates a buss.  

Back on topic: This week I started watching a documentary on the owners of derby race horses and I quit half way through. What a pretentious, egotistical, money sucking business to be in. I suppose if you have that kind of money to throw around the ego and pretension comes with the territory. The seven richest horse owners are worth in the billions, not millions and most of those owners didn't seem to love horses, they just liked what the horses could do for them. Race horses aren't like other horses. They are investments that are trained, pampered, spit-shined and polished to perfection and sold off or discarded to the breeding farms when they fail to bring home the trophies.

Side note here: Did you know that, Black Beauty---a book written like an autobiography of a horse that passes through many owners---is credited with bringing about an awareness that animals have feelings and it started a movement to treat animals more humanly? I didn't. One reviewer put it this way: "Anna Sewell's only book changed the world, alike to Charles Dickens 'Oliver Twist' to child labor, or Charlotte Brontë's 'Shirley' to feminism and the 'women-question.'" I thought it was just a book most people in my age bracket read in childhood. One thing for sure, it had an impact on my favorite sister-in-law who had a lot of Derby watch parties. She loved the Kentucky Derby for the horses and the hats, the upper class pageantry of it all. 

My only real interest in the Derby comes from one of my all-time favorite books and movies, Seabiscuit. It's the true story of a once neurotic horse that turned into a sports icon, a horse that became the single biggest news generator in 1938 topping Hitler, Mussolini and FDR. And of course, I'll admit to once being romanced by the sight of all the beautiful horse farms one sees when traveling through Kentucky. One of my upstairs neighbors is from Kentucky and volunteers daily at an equestrian therapy ranch near-by. She misses having her own horses and is willing to muck out stalls just to be near some. In my experience all little girls have a love affair with horses at one point in time---even if they're in the form of unicorns. She just never out grew hers. Mine came attached to a crush I had on a trail guide who worked at a riding stable near our cottage. He was a friend of my brother's and we often could ride for free if there weren't any paying customers. But every time any bare skin of mine touched a horse I broke out in hives. So after the second summer of doctoring my hives Calamine Lotion and cold tea my mom made me quit riding. That was okay with me because by then my crush was crushing on another girl who he ended up marrying.

The party was fun. After the judging we all wore our hats and others not in the contest wore assorted styles of hats, too, even some of the guys dressed up in hats and sport coats. But if I never have another mint julep it will be too soon. They were so strong I didn't think I'd be able to walk the 150 feet to my front door...had I actually drank the whole thing. ©

Until Next Wednesday....

  My is the hat is in the photo at the top of this post.

Won 3rd prize and the hat I voted for.

 

The hat on the top took 2nd prize.

The black hat took first place and it looks better in person than in the photo.