Final Round

My Dad loved playing the game of golf. He enjoyed the game as far back as I can remember.

Those memories include the time my friend, Dana, and I took a couple of Dad's clubs out into the field in front of our home in Kramer Homes and proceeded to swing at dandelions in full seed. It was pretty cool to hit the seed head directly and have hundreds of seeds "poof" into the air. Well, it was cool until Dana and I swung at the same dandelion...

It was amazing to see how far the head of Dad's favorite driver flew as the shafts of our clubs connected! That was one of the first and most fear-filled "oh shit!" moments in my young life. Then, to only make matters worse, I simply placed the broken club back in his golf bag, perhaps hoping one of my sisters would miraculously get blamed for it...nope, didn't happen.

Note to Grandkids:  its much, much better to admit 

to the crime immediately, 

rather than attempting to cover it up. 

Dad's golf clubs never looked better than they did that summer as yours truly meticulously cleaned and polished them after each round Dad played—usually every Saturday morning all summer long. Lesson learned!!!


Fast-forward to February 2003. During one of our winter escapes to Englewood, Florida to visit Dad and his wife, Beulah, I encouraged Dad to join me in a round of golf at one of the local courses. It took much prodding—"my hip is bothering me again" and "I haven't golfed in three years"—but Dad finally relented and we headed to Myakka Pines Golf Club, just a few miles out in the country from Englewood.

We rented a golf cart and were placed with a couple of nice fellows from Ohio to complete the foursome for our nine-hole round.

Ready for the first hole. 

Dad tried to drive from the first tee, but experienced some pain in his hip. From then on, he would hit any short, approach shots and do most of the putting, while leaving the longer shots to me. I noticed it was difficult for him to retrieve the ball from the hole on the greens, so I made sure to stand close-by to grab each one for him. I told the guys playing with us of Dad's limitations and they were totally understanding of the situation.

I have no earthly idea what kind of score we shot that day...that wasn't the point and held no importance for us. We had a terrific time, Dad really enjoyed himself and we teamed with a couple of patient, understanding guys. As we sat at the "Nineteenth Hole" enjoying a cold one, Dad said, "well, that's the last time I'll try that; I'm just too old". As things worked out, it was indeed his last outing.

I'm both proud and honored to have been with him for the final round of the game he loved so very much.