"Only in his hometown and in his own house is a prophet without honor." I’m pretty sure that some people have heard of this quote, and some even know who reportedly spoke it more than 2000 years ago.  Of course the proposition presupposes that one possesses unique knowledge not appreciated by those who are intimately acquainted with the so-called prophet.

          I attended a banquet years ago because Cathy was to be awarded some end of the year medal for something she had accomplished. It was a snowy night in the New Jersey countryside. For those of you who pass through on the Turnpike, there are neither subways nor mass transportation in the parts the State where equestrians stable their horses.

          As the evening progressed it became apparent that the honored guest speaker, from some foreign country, had not made it through the drifts of snow that covered not only the roads, but also the Stop Signs, placed there more because the law is blind, and as it turns out every intersection must have a Stop Sign, even if the last vehicle that passed through the intersection was a brand new Ford Edsel, but that’s an issue for another time and place.

          After all, what is a gathering of equestrians without a notable guest speaker? Since I am practically invisible most of the time, I was the perfect imposter to take the place of that evenings errant foreign “expert”, who by that time of the evening was probably following a really large dump truck pushing a path through a mountain blizzard of white, beautifully moonlit, snow. In those days cell phones were only the imaginary devices of comic book detectives, and even the phone company knew enough not to put a phone booth at the intersection next to the Stop Sign in the middle of a 22000 acre cattle farm.

          This is not to say that there were no “experts” at this illustrious banquet fit for a king, but of course, being from the same area as everyone else, certainly no one in attendance was qualified to take the podium and expound on equestrianism. I have to admit, I was not looking forward to straining my mind in an effort to try to understand a subject about which I know very little, especially when presented in broken English.

          Someone asked if I would speak about my experiences as the husband of a dressage rider. Naturally I was not to be the expert, even though I have read quite a few slick-dressage-magazine articles on dressage so I was not without some preparation.

          To lighten the moment, I introduced myself as the Barron vonHumphries from Transylvania, and assured everyone that I indeed was “qualified” to speak on the subject, and I listed my accomplishments. I explained that I was born next to a stable of horses, learned to feed and care for them, did very well in pony club, and in the 4-H program, took a public speaking course, and once got a 10 on a halt (from Cathy), but my main credential was as an unofficial grandstand judge of international level competitions for many years all over the world.

          I explained how reading books on how to ride can leave something to be desired; for example, I had read once that it is important to have an “elastic seat”. Since Cathy’s birthday was approaching, I decided to buy her one. I went to Bevel’s, which is practically around the corner from our farm, and I asked one of the women there if she had a small elastic seat in stock. Very graciously, she explained that it was not a peace of equipment, and quoted G. vDreyhausen: "The final result must be an elastic horse, an unweighted hand, and a rider who joins the movement in the horse’s center of gravity with an elastic seat and an active leg that maintains impulsion and hence collection. "

          Of course, how stupid of me! Ok I said, how much are a couple of unweighted hands? Seeing the expression on her face, I realized that it was a term of art and not a commodity that one can pick up at a tack shop. At least I knew enough not to ask for an elastic horse, obviously you can’t find one of those at Bevel’s, even I knew that much. You need to go to Germany or Holland for one of those; little did I know that we had a few in our own barn, but then, as you know, a prophet is without honor even in her own household.