Friday, September 21, 2012


Reggie and Edie Tschorn
Yesterday, the world was diminished.  Edie Tschorn, my mentor, neighbor, former employer, friend and hero passed away, eleven months after being diagnosed with brain cancer.  She was one of the kindest, most giving and open people I've ever known, and while I will miss her more than I can ever convey, I was truly blessed to have had her in my life.  She's the reason I became a saddle fitter, and she had more influence on me than she probably knew; the good bits of me became better and brighter with her guidance. She encouraged me to start this blog, and encouraged me to keep going with it, suggested subject matter and often proofed the posts before I published them.  She helped me with pretty much every facet of my life, professional and personal, and did it with grace, tact and good humor, even when I was being my usual pushy, reactive, bull-headed Aries self.  (She once said to me, when we were working through a particularly difficult and potentially explosive issue with my difficult and potentially explosive mare, "I think I know you well enough to say that you and your mare are an awful lot alike."  Few people in this world could have said that to me at such a time without getting the rough and profane side of my tongue, but Edie did, and made me laugh about it, too.)

As often happens when my deepest heart is touched, it's hard for me to find the words that really express what I'm feeling.  Edie touched so many lives and mentored so many people, young and old; her hand and her heart were always open, she always had a moment for you - even when she didn't - and she never failed to find the right thing to say or do to make you feel good.  There are so many things I could say about her, so many things she did, so many examples of her wonderful nature, but I think the one thing that really sums Edie up is this:  At the end of every day in the shop, before we walked down the stairs and out the door, no matter if we'd had a herd of PITA customers and been gold-plated assholes that day (and there were times when I know I truly excelled at that), she'd say, "Thank you."