We had a couple of friends over for dinner a week ago and got to talking about old times and funny experiences.  It made me think how stories can explode into something so much bigger than they originally were.  Especially the humorous ones.

This story took place in the early 1970s.  It was the time of women’s liberation and the bonds of staying at home.  My sister and I thought we were liberated, but the truth is, we had little ones at home and even though we sympathized with the feminist movement, we were stuck in the throes of house and hearth.  One day, however, we did take a day off to go golfing together.

We packed our clubs into the car.  Mine generally sat in the dining room corner, untouched and dusty from lack of use.  We hired a baby sitter and off we went to one of the most challenging of courses in Appleton, Wisconsin.  I didn’t have time to fix my hair properly that morning, because of three children – need I say more. So I popped on a wig,  which wasn’t unusual in those days.  I was feeling rather perky and looked cute in my Florence Henderson, perfectly coifed, shaggy hair. The heat of the sun began to cause my poor head to sweat so we decided to rent a cart.

I wasn’t used to such luxury.  I hadn’t golfed in over ten years.  I was out of shape, but my hair looked good.  It was the perfect setup for what was about to happen.  I was in charge of driving the cart, even though my sister paid for it.  There’s something about being the oldest that has its benefits.  The cart was in fair shape, but what we didn’t know was that the brakes weren’t.  As we flew down a hill to the 9th hole, I realized that there was no way we were going to stop unless we ran into something.

As usually happens to me in cases like this, my short 30 year life passed quickly before my eyes.  I thought for sure this was it – again.  I thought about abandoning ship, but that thought was interrupted by the invasion of a firmly planted oak tree, which became our resting place.  In that short period of time, all our golf clubs scattered – many of my children’s little toys which had secretly been hidden,  were strewn across the green grass.  My wig was on sideways.  My sister and I pulled ourselves together and proceeded to gather our belongings as a couple young, burly men ran towards us. Little did we know that they were part of the Green Bay Packers football team.  You see, the Packers have always been involved in community and many of them owned businesses around town.  They helped us set the cart upright and offered to drive us to the clubhouse, but of course there were no brakes.  We thanked them for their kindness.  One of them noticed the toys strewn about and asked if they belonged to us.  In that moment of being rescued by two professional football players, all I could do was say, “no!”

They left and I quickly replaced the toys in my golf bag.  My sister was laughing hysterically.  I thought it was because of my response about the toys, but she said, “Your wig is sitting on the side of your head.”  Of course I was mortified.

After laughing at the story with our friends, one of them asked how we knew they were Green Bay Packers.  She had visions of them wearing their uniforms on the golf course.  That is just another link to this ongoing tale.  I really don’t recall any football players coming to our rescue.  I think my husband added that somewhere along the line.

It’s funny how stories grow and grow and grow with time.



As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension. I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog. I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ. My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on
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  1. Tears ate streaming down my face— this is hilarious 😂🤣— and oh how I remember the vogueness of wig wearing— glad that fashion statement hasn’t made a rousing comeback

    Liked by 1 person

    • says:

      It is one of those timeless stories. The fact that my friend thought the two Packers were on the golf course in their football uniforms added just the right ending. I’ve worn a few wigs since, but only on stage,

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Kathy, I enjoyed the story. May it continue to grow as its humor is retold . . . over and over!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. hatrack4 says:

    I see you have returned the favor regarding humor today. Since the wig was hanging on the side of your head, was it a hair pin or hanging from your ear? Please do not answer, so that my imagination can continue to run amok.

    At one golf course in Tennessee, designed by Fred Couples, we reached one path, after leaving a hill top green, with a sign telling us to check our brakes before proceeding. We went as slow as possible, but 2/3 of the way down, the brakes failed. We didn’t hit a tree, but we ran into a mound of thick grass near the next elevated tee. It was just enough to slow us down. Golf cart brakes must not be designed well.

    Liked by 1 person

    • says:

      The wig was fastened with hairpins, but I imagine my ear had something to do with it staying on my head, even tough it probably resembled facial hair. I was feeling like writing something funny today. Glad you got a chuckle and that your ever vivid imagination carries you to infinity and beyond 😳

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Wally Fry says:

    I thought of Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance for some reason.

    Liked by 1 person

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