MY WORLD OF GOLF

Memories of early days and golf began with my father. He loved the game and though he always considered himself a “duffer," he never gave up enjoying it. I seldom got to see him because his job with the military kept him away, so when he would invite me along to carry his golf bag, I thought it was a real treat, even though that bag got real heavy by the end of 18 holes. There was something about being outside with Dad, without having to discuss homework, or my latest foul -up with yard work or my fighting with my brothers, that was liberating for me. Sure, we talked about lots of things but mostly we concentrated on golf.

Golf is an unusual game and perhaps that’s part of its charm. Back in 1452, King James the second outlawed golf because it kept gentleman from their archery practice. It’s been distracting people ever since. There have been so many jokes, stories and movies about the game and they come from all angles. The early days, the championships, the amateurs, the equipment and so forth are all mentioned. I understand that most believe that the game originated in Scotland in about the 1100s, but all I know is that the golf bug bit me when I was about ten years old and I’ve been hooked ever since.

Not that I’m any good at it, mind you, but I do enjoy watching it played. Of course, it’s much more interesting if you get in there and play yourself and I did so in my younger days, although I never seemed to have the money or the time to give it a real effort. I would hit a bucket of balls with rented clubs or practice on the putting greens or troll the roughs and ponds for lost golf balls but that’s not really playing. Every now and then I’d actually play nine holes or even 18 but it was rare. I was so incredibly frustrated by my lack of skill. On the driving range I’d top the ball; slice, hook, or worse yet, miss it entirely.

Working on my grip, my stance, watching the ball, keeping my chin down and so forth would possess me. I could hardly think of anything else. I was supposed to be doing this to relax but often I would get angrier on the course that anywhere else. Still…every now and then, I did it right; I didn’t cuff the ball; it went straight, over two hundred yards (really nothing) but it seemed fantastic to me. Then I would try to do it again and it wouldn’t work and I’d try it again, to see what I was doing wrong and it didn’t work and I would scold myself. How could I do it consistently right? What am I doing wrong?

That, of course, is what kept me coming back. Every now and then was the payoff…sort of like the compulsive gambler that loses his shirt. Every now and then he wins and there’s the rub. In order for golf to work for me, I had to practice, practice, and practice and dedicate as much time as I could, so I could feel comfortable playing against others. Before my game got good, my body got bad. My back, my neck, my knees, my goodness…they all began to fail and I put my clubs, my rented clubs, away. I was always too cheap to buy my own.

I watch golf matches on TV on very rare occasions and see some pro hit the ball over 300 plus yards and sink a 50 foot putt and wonder…How long did he have to practice to get that good? I suppose it’s like anything else; if you want to do it well, you’ve got to pay the price. I never paid it but I admire the self discipline of those who have. Do you think there are golf courses in the next life? Do you think we will be able to afford the green fees if there are? Can you imagine a St. Andrews or a Harbor Town or a Saw grass Course? Sigh…I don’t know, but if there are, you’ll probably find me out there; in whatever spare time I have, trying to keep it in the center of the fairway.

THE HAWAII TRIP (Part Three)

After looking over Bob's house we headed down the coast road on the way to his employment, where he manages the maintenance of numerous tour boats for pacificwhale.org. The weather was ideal and the view everywhere, full of sea and sand and swaying trees out of a paradise dream. The pace of Maui is slow compared to the big Island of Hawaii with perhaps only a tenth of the population. We were leaving for Honolulu the next day so I tried to soak in as much of the surroundings and still visit with Bob. He's a humorous guy so it wasn't easy.

He had told me to be sure to bring my coat when I came to Maui because I would need it as fuel to start the barbecue. We visited a well maintained aquarium facility near his work and all the bright colored types of fish in the huge tanks put on quite a show. Bob finally had to go to work and I walked around the shops, ate genuine pineapple/coconut ice cream. Pineapple in Maui tasted better and sweeter than any pineapple I had ever had before, anywhere else. I looked in store windows and inside shops at all the unusual souvenirs for sale, & purchased a couple.

That evening, Bob, Chris and I took the 30 minute flight to Honolulu, rented a van and met my Dad and Bob & Chris's daughter, Melissa, at a fancy hotel called the Embassy Suites. The traffic was immense and the buildings forty stories high or more. Dad & Melissa had just flown in from Seattle and we all had a restaurant meal, visited and hit the sack. Dad & I shared a room at a nearby hotel, since there weren't any more available rooms at the Embassy. Dad & I renewed bittersweet memories, ate breakfast with Bob on the rooftop cafeteria on top the Embassy, chasing away birds that tried to help eat our fancy breakfast. We were able to see the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial Site in Pearl Harbor on the next day, not knowing that they would park the U.S.S. John C. Stennis, aircraft carrier, directly across from there. (See the story called "Carrier Cruise).

That following day, Michael, Melissa's brother, joined us and we all went to Pearl to see the display of what happened on December 7th 1941 that started World War Two. We were able to listen to an audio program of that event, provided by War Memorial while we looked at the presentation, saw a movie of the terrible day and then rode out to U.S.S. Arizona, taking lots of pictures of that vessel 4o feet down and sunk in about 20 feet of mud. Many died aboard the Arizona, sealed below decks. Naturally, the whole mood is somber and the very thought that Pearl Harbor could have been bombed that way and by surprise, seemed fantastic. The next day, Dad, Bob & I met Scott, our son as he came in on the Stennis. After giving us a tour of the ship, Bob & Dad headed for Maui and Scott & I stayed in a hotel, ate a fancy meal at a street side restaurant and walked up and down the streets of Honolulu looking at all the lights, enjoying the sounds and getting reacquainted. The next day we began our carrier cruise.

THE HAWAII TRIP (Part Two)

Following that long first day, I awoke refreshed, after a peaceful sleep in quiet surroundings. Showering and cleaning up were followed by house exploration. I had seen pictures of this Maui house and knew it was worth over two and one half million dollars, but I had never walked around inside. Bob was not due home for a few hours so I began taking pictures of the outside and inside of their home. Now we have all seen homes that were very ornate and others that were very humble, but I was not prepared for the grandeur of this living area.

I suppose that the first thing that caught my attention was the sheer size and layout. Pictures and decorations of tropical fish, shells, waves and beach in the home made you think and feel like you were in the Hawaiian Islands. You did not need to venture outside to get that impression. The front door immediately opened up to a spacious ceiling and staircase that led upstairs to bedrooms, bathrooms and office. The wall adjacent to the stairs included a breath taking sculpture of white dolphins inlaid with copper and turquoise accents.

At the top of the stairs you could see the living area below and the extension of the roof line above. The design allowed you to view the roof shingles penetrating the wall for about 20 feet square. This gave the viewer the perspective of what it might be like to stand on the roof, looking down at a lower roof line.

Bathrooms were large and expertly appointed with the latest fixtures. A large deck from the master bedroom overlooked the swimming pool and hot tub below and the ocean, homes and surrounding lush vegetation in the background. It was like looking out at a view of paradise, no doubt ordinary to the owners but awe inspiring to an old guy from Utah.

Downstairs included a huge screen TV and media center, positioned near a sunken living room that included a grand piano. A large dining area and kitchen and an outside patio were adjacent to the utility room, guest bathroom and garage. All of these were tastefully decorated so that a guest had a calm assurance that this was a home to be loved. I’m afraid that, if it were mine, I would never want to leave.

The home was situated in a cul-de-sac and across the street from a beautiful park. Huge royal palm trees and tightly knit grass, almost the consistency of a moss filled the yard, along with curious plants found nowhere else in the world. It was serene and beautiful and smelled of fragrant blossoms.

THE HAWAII TRIP (Part One)

Were it not for the sacrifices of others, I would never have been able to take this trip in the first place. My wife, Jean, my brother Bob, and our son Scott, all helped make the planned journey into a reality. A hurricane, near Hawaii, also threatened to destroy my arrival, but it was diverted almost at the last minute.

Even so, travel days and I have not been really fond of each other. Preparing for a trip is always a hassle. Did I remember everything? Sleeping the night before is fitful. What if I oversleep? By 4AM I was doing my last minute packing. I went to Salt Lake City from Layton, Utah on 15 August 2007, arriving by auto, with the help of a neighbor, who worked at the airport. He dropped me off at about 7AM. This prevented my wife from driving the 40 miles each way, in heavy traffic. Unfortunately, this required a substantial wait on my part, since my flight did not leave till 1PM. I brought a good book and busied myself reading while I waited. Still, having waited, alone, in many an airline terminal, while on temporary duty (TDY), with the military, I had forgotten how incredibly lonely it can be.

Anytime I saw families with children and heard the words, “Daddy” or “Grandpa,” it was all I could do not to look up. I had not traveled by air since 2004 and air travel had changed drastically. Perhaps the word that described it best was “delay.” We had to wait for our bags to be inspected and checked, not only our checked bags but our carry-ons. Certain things could be checked, others could not.

Restrictions were enforced with regard to the type and amounts of liquids we brought on board. I had to get rid of my bottled water, for instance. I asked if I could at least save the container, for refill later. No, I was told, we have no place to dump the water. I would have been better off bringing an empty water container and then filling it up in the terminal area. This I realized too late and refused to pay four dollars for a container of water once I got to the terminal.

After our pockets were emptied, our shoes removed and we had passed through metal detectors, we were randomly screened. Random turned out to be me. I was told to have a seat, this might take awhile. More delay. “Routine” question were asked of me, like do I travel much? What was the purpose of my journey? Did I have any substances I want to declare before they hand search my belongings? Questions like these continued for a while and then I was permitted to put my belt, hat and shoes back on, refill my pockets, retrieve my boarding pass and my hand carries and be on my way.

I was nervous at first, even though I was completely innocent of any wrong doing, but then I remembered the world we are living in has changed and there are devious people traveling today that make traveling for the rest of us less than pleasant. We waited in the terminal area and were told our flight had been slightly delayed; some sort of maintenance problem. More delay. At length, we boarded and then waited further because someone that was late had not arrived yet. I didn’t think they would hold up a flight for one person, while the rest of us waited. I had missed many a flight in the past when I had been late. Why did they not hold up the flight for me then? This must be a pretty important person we are waiting for or they are just telling us this when, in reality, there is still a maintenance delay. Anyway, finally, we took off, in a plane full of passengers and landed in Las Vegas about two hours later.

It seemed like a hard landing, we bounced several times, but I am no expert. It was approaching midnight by the time our Las Vegas to Hawaii flight was to board. It had already been a long day and I was pretty tired. However, I did not wish to complain, even silently. After all, that’s what I get for flying economy class.

As we were boarding, I noticed a man ahead of me, in an electric wheel chair hurriedly show his ticket and then continue down the boarding ramp. About five people before me, the boarding was suspended, temporarily, we were told. There was just a “slight medical emergency.” We waited. Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. Suddenly, down the boarding ramp rush two policemen, and several firemen. What kind of “slight medical emergency,” requires this group? After almost an hour of delay, a very drunk and angry diabetic in an electric powered wheel chair comes storming out of the ramp, escorted by the policemen and firemen. The drunk is shouting obscenities and is taken away. What happened? We have no idea.

The rest of us finally board. By this time I have been up for over twenty hours. I am not exactly a party animal and it is way past my bedtime and I still have a seven hour flight ahead of me. Sleeping in a cramped plane is like trying to rest in a straight jacket; it doesn’t work. I am hungry and tired and could stand something to eat.

Airport prices for food are outlandishly expensive, so I had brought some crackers and beef jerky with me, but these had long since been consumed. In Vegas, being desperate, I had waited to order a burger but the line was so long and the delay so great, that I ran out of time before our supposed boarding. It’s a seven hour plus flight to Hawaii. Surely they plan to feed us? Oh yes, if you are ready to buy a meal. OK, fine. You have my attention. What’s for dinner? We have crackers, peanuts, potato chips and booze, fruit drinks, soda pop and salads. How much? Five dollars. Sigh…OK…I’ll have a salad and some peanuts. At least I can get some protein and veggies.

Sorry, sir. We don’t have salads for order except on our flight that goes to Hawaii from Chicago. But your menu says…Never mind. I’ll have some peanuts and orange juice. It really was not a big deal. I need to lose weight anyway; I just didn’t plan on starting my diet that night. After a very cramped, unpleasant ride, we arrive in Hawaii, Maui, more correctly. My brother Bob is waiting and we claim our bags and head for the twenty minute ride in his truck, to his house.

We haven’t seen each other for some time so we visit and renew memories. Are you hungry? He asks. Starved I say, but by this time I am also experiencing a raging headache. Where do you want to eat? He says. I don’t know and I really don’t, since it is my first time to Maui, but I am hoping for some place quiet. How about here? He says. Sure I say, having never eaten at a Hard Rock Café before. The clue was in the name, uh duh, but I didn’t get it, way too tired to get anything. Before long, we are screaming at each other over the music and our meals, just to be heard.

It was good to see him again but now I am really tired and my head feel s like someone set off a grenade in my brain. We visit more, we get to his beautiful house, he shows me my room and I collapse into bed, more fatigued that I have been in a long time. Not exactly a typical day for me, but it was a day that was FINALLY over.