I came across this cartoon the other day and was reminded of my infamous golf story.
Actually when I was in my prime, I was a pretty good golfer. I was a pretty good bowler, volley ball and tennis player as well. Notice I said, “pretty good.” I’ve never excelled at sports.
I’ve not played golf for decades, but that particular day was special. It was a day of quiet respite for this young mother of three young children. My sister was visiting and we decided it would be fun to play a round of golf. She paid for the baby sitter, which made the deal even sweeter. Being the stay at home mom that I was, I didn’t always have time for myself. As usual, my hair wasn’t cooperating so I wore a wig, which wasn’t uncommon in those days.
My hopes of ever becoming a member of the LPGA were dashed as we set foot on the course. Of course I never had a chance of even seeing one of those tournaments in person, much less participating in one.
The course we chose was on was a series of winding paths and intermittent hills, so we opted for a cart rather than walking. We were close to the 18th hole when it happened. We got into the cart, started it up and went sailing down the hill. It soon became apparent that the cart didn’t have working brakes and, as my life swiftly passed before my eyes, I was convinced that I was about to die.
We hit a tree and everything went flying. Golf clubs scattered everywhere along with a few toys which had been earlier stuffed into the bag by my children. My wig sat cockeyed upon my head. We lived to see another day, but I was so embarrassed when a young, handsome and burly man came running to our aid. He began to pick things up and noticed some of the toys on the ground. He politely asked if they belonged to us.
I must confess – I’m not a very good liar – but I simply couldn’t bring myself to admit they were mine. That, in addition to my unusual appearance, must’ve given him a lot to talk about that day. It turned out that the young fellow was an NFL football player for the Green Bay Packers who happened to be golfing that day.
Maybe this is why I have such a hard time with R & R. I can handle rest, but relaxation conjures memories I’d sooner forget.