You Can Go Back Home

Day 1 and 2 of my trip to Colorado was spent on a road trip with my baby brother, Derrell. When I landed in Denver, he picked me up and we headed for the thriving metropolis of Goodland, Kansas, where my father lives.

Dad started playing golf when he was about 55, that's almost 30 years ago. I'd never seen him swing a club til two years ago. This year, as a special treat, or punishment, I asked if he'd take me to play.

We started on the driving range. I've only played once in my life, about 25 years ago, and it took 6 hours to play. The couple who asked us to go with them were smart and never asked again. I'm pretty sure playing golf with me was much like playing crochet on a very big playing field.

This time Dad and my brother, Derrell gave me some swinging instructions. I hit four buckets of balls on the driving range, and eventually was actually making contact, and sometimes even sending the ball in the intended direction.



Do you not love my golf outfit? It never even occurred to me to wear a certain type of clothing.

We headed for the course, in two golf carts. Dad's step-daughter, Sharon drove our cart and was my personal, very patient caddy. I do now have a better understanding of irons and woods and know that little line on the putter is darned important.

Daddy has a wonky swing, but at 84 he can still hit the ball over 250 yards. Unbelievable.

Six hours later Dad hit a 84, Derrell broke 100 for the first time in two years, Sharon had a 124 and I didn't keep score. But I'd have to assume it was around 200. Seriously.

It was such fun spending time with my baby brother. Who cares that he's over 50, he's always going to be my baby brother. I'd sign up for another road trip with him in a heartbeat.

At about hole 15 I was physically exhausted, and started hitting a few times then calling it good for that hole, so we could actually get back into the club house before it was pitch dark. Nobody argued with me. While they'd ridden in carts, I'd walked most of the 18 holes because there's little point in getting back into the cart to walk 50 feet to where my ball had landed.

At dinner that night we were all so tired we just sat there and ate Daddy's birthday steak dinner in almost silence. He told me that night, at ten pm, that he was completely worn out, but the next morning when I hugged him goodbye he told me he'd loved every minute of it. Hindsight is so wonderful, isn't it?

I promised to buy some clubs, take a lesson or two, and go to the driving range by myself before I headed for Kansas again.

It was a day I'll treasure for a lifetime, and a wonderful start to my trip.