The Endgame

Newsletter #39 - White horses

Toronto, September 24, 2023

White horses

A friend told me something interesting about white horses. Some people think that if you see a white horse you should make a wish. The white horse will bring you luck. Your wish will come true. Some people think that seeing one white horse is not enough: you need to see several, separately or together. According to the poet Eleanor Farjeon, you need to see at least nine. Nine seems like a lot. I didn’t know anything about white horses and wishing until my friend told me about it.

There was more to my friend’s story about white horses. She told of an incident on a car trip in rural France one late summer’s afternoon. She heard about it from the people involved. Two elderly married couples—Maurice and Anne, Bernard and Juliette—were on their way to an early evening concert in a 16^th century abbey. The car went around a bend in the country road and came upon several white horses standing in a field.

Maurice knew about white horses. “White horses,” he said. “They will bring us luck. We must make a wish.” There was a moment’s silence while each person in the car made their wish as instructed. Maurice then asked his companions, “What did you wish for? The usual, riches, fame, power?”

His wife Anne said, “I wished that we arrive back home safely.” Bernard said, “I wished that the concert we are going to will be good.” Bernard’s wife Juliette said, “I wished that the concert will be short.”

Maurice said testily: “Your wishes are too modest, even for old people! I wished, of course, for riches, fame and power. There’s still time for that, for me at least, if not for you.” The four of them travelled on in silence. The concert was good, not too long, and they got home safely. Everyone’s wishes came true, except those of Maurice.

A wish is a product of your personality, character, and circumstances. It comes from ambition and imagination. A wish can be big or small. As you age, wishes become smaller. That’s because, there has to be some possibility, however remote, that a wish could come true. Otherwise it is not a wish, but a dream. As you age, the realm of the possible, even the remotely possible, shrinks, partly because the time available for wishes to come true becomes less and less. Some things are no longer possible, if they ever were. They are no longer within the realm of wishes, but within the realm of fantasy.

In Endgame #16 I wrote about my fifteen years of piano lessons. I began lessons at age 65 and, approaching 80, I’m still at it. I never wished to perform at Carnegie Hall (although you can rent the main hall there for about US$15,000 a night and some amateurs do do), but I did think I might be able to complete the ARCT (Associate of the Royal College of Toronto). How sweet that would have been! Chasing this wish, I dutifully took Royal College of Music practical and theory lessons and exams alongside people younger than me by half-a-century or more, swallowing my pride along the way. I got to Grade 6 and then Covid put an end to lessons and exams. Now my modest wish is to master some Grade 8 pieces—Chopin’s Polonaise in A flat Major, for example, or Schubert’s Scherzo in B flat Major. More likely I will be stuck playing Für Elise (Grade 7) over and over again until I get it right. These days, I’d settle for that.

A white horse. What a beautiful animal! I’ve never seen one. I hope I do, one day.