They're at the Gate

 

A small portion of my childhood remembrances are of being at the racetrack with my grandfather.  He enjoyed betting on the horses and from what I could see, he was good at it.  He would study the small racing form, which showed everything you needed to know about the horse, the jockey and their history.

It was an exciting event, with hundreds of people, each eager to get to the window to place their bets before the announcer, over the PA system said, “They're at the Gate.”  Once that happened you couldn’t place any more bets.  From the stands you could see the various jockeys trying to position their horse and get them settled down.  Then, once everyone was ready, a loud bell would ring, and the metal gates would swing open.  That is when the announcer would say, “And they’re off.”

This large crowd would get to their feet, if they weren’t standing already, and everyone would be squinting to see their horse, some had binoculars and it seemed everyone was yelling, cheering on their favorite.  After the race had been run and a clear winner announced, only those people holding winning tickets made their way back to the betting windows to collect their money.  Everyone else usually tore their tickets up and tossed them to the ground.

There was a great more to it all than what I have just described, but keep in mind, I was just a kid at the time and didn’t have a clue about the extreme pressure in some of those people to win.  It was gambling and sometimes a person’s entire paycheck would be lost in a matter of minutes.  Those were the facial expressions that would catch my attention.  It was more than just an absence of hope in their eyes, it was pure desperation, anger and shame.  It wasn’t simply a losing ticket that lay crumpled at their feet, it was rent money, groceries for the upcoming week or their children’s allowance.

Looking back at it, now that I’m grown, I’d have to say I learned more on those summer vacations than I had throughout the entire school year.  I was given a glimpse into the frailties of humanity and an up-close view of the ledge, upon which some people step.

When vacation was over and I found myself, once again, sitting back in the classroom, listening to the teacher drone on about some historical event, I remembered the sights and sounds of my summer adventure and tried to consider the desperation and fear in the faces of those men taking a stand against England, signing their name to the declaration of independence, betting everything they had, and then some.

Their pictures in the history books tell a completely different story.  They are clean-cut, dressed nicely for the time, and completely relaxed.

I don't think so, Bunkie.