To quote my recently departed 95 year old friend Dr. Jim, “Golf is a way to ruin a good walk”. About three months ago I was driving somewhere with MK, and from that place that blurts out the truth I said, “I really wish I could have some guys to golf with. This Covid lockdown is making me stir crazy”. MK immediately began to go down a list of possible golf partners. I had big plans that my grandson Miko would be my golf buddy, but Covid sent him home to New Mexico.
The fates heard my request. Not a week later I got an email to reconnect with some longtime Pueblo buddies who need a fourth player for their foursome. I dusted off my golf clubs and reminded myself “just enjoy this, there is no need to believe that after more than a year lapse in playing that this will be amusing at least”. I showed up at the course, we were all wearing masks, we had individual golf carts, and we lined up at the first tee. Any golfer will tell you that the first tee shot brings a lot of pressure. There are always strangers watching, you have to go down your check list as you address the ball: breath, easy backswing, don’t squeeze the club, keep your head down and follow through. “Mark you’re up” (Oh please Lord of golf just help me get the ball past the ladies tee). Boom— there it went, straight as a string, 200 yds down the fairway… Senior Circuit here I come. Not so fast.
If my golfing life was a movie, I would borrow titles like: “The Good, The Bad, The Ugly”, “Agony and Ecstasy” “Lost World” and the classic Disney cartoon featuring Goofy “How to Play Golf”. Inconsistent is how I describe my playing these past two months. One minute my self talk is “Wow, you can still do this” followed by “What were you thinking”? I can say that playing about 10 times has been great fun. It’s the time with these great guys, and the golf is entertaining.
The last time I played with my dad Bill was in Alamosa. He was 74. He shot the best round of his life and then said to me “I never saw that coming”. It was soon after that he was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. He told me later “If that had to be my last round of golf it was a fun way to go out”. Well, this I know— I am going to keep playing until I can’t.
Onward and Upward,
Mark
Lyfting Me Up 