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.

Michigan Winters

To me, a winter in Michigan is a time of recharging one's batteries. The grass doesn't need its weekly attention, the garden is asleep waiting for the next spring, and the lake cottage is buttoned up until warmer weather arrives, giving me time to spend reflecting and planning for the year ahead.

Winter weather in Michigan can be mild and laid-back, or when all things meteorological come together just so, all hell can break loose. My most memorable and life-threatening winter is 1978, when Michigan was hit with what is now known as The Great Blizzard. In January of that year we lived on our little 40-acre farm in rural Allegan county. Our home was situated on a private dirt road, about 300 yards off the paved county road. From January 25-27 we received well over 20 inches of snow, accompanied by gale-force winds. That combination closed roads, airports and even caused the University of Michigan to cancel classes for the first time in its 140-year history. The way the wind piled up the snow was both beautiful and scary.

I remember we almost lost Glenn on the day that storm began. He was walking home alone from a neighbor's house after being dropped off the school bus. His route was a shortcut through an open hayfield, as usual. He had walked back to our place that very way dozens of times, but with the snow and wind that day he became disoriented and we had to go out and find him to bring him home; dangerous stuff to be sure.

Thank goodness blizzards are a rare occurrence here. Still, with the average season snowfall of 75 inches or so, winter in west Michigan is a great time to just hunker down, start a fire in the fireplace, get out a good book and chill.

Garden seed catalogs have begun arriving lately, a surefire sign that Spring can't be too far away. I love to plan our little garden, using leftover heirloom seeds not planted last year, or the seeds saved from a few of last year's best-producing crops, and then ordering a few more for our next gardening season.

Our little "square foot" garden in 2010. 

I know, we won't feed the world with that little garden, but it augments our own needs quite well. For 2011, I'm adding two more 4'x4' raised beds. After this photo was taken, we added six raspberry bushes, hoping for a small harvest this year. Looking at photos like this make it easier to accept and survive another winter, knowing a new and warmer season is on the way.

For the past 10 years or so, I've enjoyed spending a week in (hopefully) sunny Florida during the month of March. The bulk of winter weather is over in Michigan and a few days of warmth and sunshine are a welcome change. For many years, those escapes were to Englewood Florida, where my Dad spent many winter months after his retirement. The past few years, after Dad's passing, Orlando has been my destination, using one of the timeshare weeks from the RCI account I received from Dad.

Sunshine, bright blue skies and palm trees do wonders
for a person after months of cold Michigan weather. 

For now though, with views like this on our back deck at the moment and weather forecasts expecting highs in the teens this week, that good book and cup of hot coffee seem like the best idea for the time being.