August 18, 2008
My youngest son Pete was in for a weekend visit, so we decided it should probably involve a little golf.
Pete destroyed me in golf all last summer. Of course, this could have been partially due to the fact that I don’t actually play golf and don’t own any clubs. Pete had put together a set for me to use consisting of an old bag, several ancient ladies blades (Mary Mills!) and a couple of drivers made out of wood. I would play with those and Pete would play with his expensive set of clubs. Pete, however, did not bring his clubs home with him, so we shared my clubs for our little golf outing.
I am nothing if not a snappy dresser and I wore my black hi-top Converse golfing shoes to the course. As I was waiting for Peter to tee off a little girl rode up to me on a bike, stopped, looked me up and down a couple of times and said, ”…do you know how to play golf?” I said, “ha ha ha, yes… kinda.” She continued to sit there on her bike, so I decided (being the adult in this conversation) I should probably say something else, so I said, ”…why, don’t I look like I know how to play golf, ha ha ha?” She looked me up and down again and said, ”…no”… so I said, ”…ha ha ha” which was the only witty reply I could think of. I walked away from her, teed up my ball and crushed a drive… right into the highway that runs along the first fairway and almost hit a passing car.
I did see that little girl again as we were approaching the clubhouse on the ninth hole, and I will confess that I was kinda aiming more for her than the pin, but that was only because I knew if I was aiming for her I could never hit her in a million years… probably.