Playing Golf With My Dad

I spoke to Helaine this morning. Not a good night for her. She’s coming down with the cold I undoubtedly gave her. Frank plowed our driveway at 2:00 AM and then the town came by and did our road at 4:00. She heard both… in fact she never got back to sleep after the first.

Steffie’s coming down with a cold too. I will not return as Mr. Popular.

The 1104 miles (1776 km) between them and me makes a world of difference weather wise. We were back into the low 80s with San Diego-like humidity. There were clouds, but they were the puffy variety that marks fair weather.

I lived here in the very early 70s. What was I thinking when I left?

My dad and I hadn’t played golf yet, so we headed out around 1:30 PM. There was plenty of room to get us in, though we ended up playing behind a slow group&#185.

My father’s course of choice is Sherwood Park, a course that is incredibly forgiving. There is no water. There is no rough. The holes are short and easy. So, for us, this is an incredibly challenging course!

If there is athletic acumen in the Fox family, it has been hidden from my dad and me.

Actually, Steffie is quite athletic. I have no idea how that happened. It is not inherited from me.

Sherwood Park has another attribute that attracts my dad – it’s cheap. Since it was already nearly 2:00 PM, we played for $11 a man. That includes a cart! And, since it was late, it was as many holes as we were willing to play.

We were paired with another golfer, an 84 year old&#178 named Joe. He was slim with good posture. He was old – no doubt. But for 84, he looked pretty good. He was certainly a better golfer that either of us.

When my folks lived in Connecticut, my dad and I played golf all the time. He was the perfect golfing partner. He was forgiving as only a parent could be. He was available as only a retiree could be. Once he left Connecticut my golf time was seriously reduced.

The funny thing is, I love playing golf. It’s a great game.

I’ve never shot up heroin, but I assume there’s the same pleasure involved at the beginning of heroin use and golf. Otherwise why would you allow yourself to become addicted to a game which is so frustrating.

I started slowly today, but soon had ramped my game all the way to mediocre. Twice I putted for birdies. That’s unreal for me. Of course, both times, I three putted – but that’s another story.

My dad, Joe and I made a great team. I was the spotter. I stood behind both of them to see where their tee shots went. In Florida, a lot of tee shots are lost in the vast blue sky. That most of these golfers, who can’t find their golf balls, drive cars is scary beyond belief.

We played 12 holes until Joe had to go. My dad and I continued through 14.

It was great in every sense of the word. This is one of those moments they talk about in the credit card commercials – playing golf with your dad… priceless. It is.

If the weather is good again tomorrow (and why the hell shouldn’t it be good), we’ll play another round. I’m looking forward to that.

&#185 – By definition, any group of golfers who plays slower than my dad and me is slow. Remember, we are taking the maximum strokes allowed by law on each and every hole.

&#178 – When kids are 3 to about 11 years old, they offer up their age as a matter of pride. That attribute goes away until age 65. From 65 up everyone again freely offers their age. No matter what the person looks like, your response is supposed to be, “Wow, you really look good.”