Monday, July 19, 2010
Yesterday was my father's birthday. If he were still alive, he would be 91. One of our sons couldn't find the key for his car yesterday and so I was searching through one of the small odds and ends drawers we have on our counter. I found this.
It's a pocket cleat cleaner for golf shoes. (Sorry about this poor photo.)
I'm not sure how I ended up with it. I think I asked my mom for it after dad died because it summed up something for me about dad, which was that above almost everything else, my dad loved to golf.
He golfed at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. He had a regular foursome on Saturday and Sunday at the Highland Golf Club in Shelton, CT. It was a short course and since my dad wasn't tall, it was a perfect course for him. It was a no frills club with a small restaurant that served lunch and drinks, and a tiny pro shop. No pool or tennis. Just golf.
There was a joke in the family that it never rained on the golf course. It could be pouring down rain at home, but when dad got back from his 18 holes, he'd swear that he never saw a drop.
He was a really good golfer and often won in the club tournaments. When he died, we didn't know what to do with all the plaques and trophies that had been stashed on a couple of shelves in the den. I think my oldest brother may have taken them.
But this is what I wanted. Dad had it on his key chain until the day he died, even though he had had to quit golfing a few years before. He never stopped loving golf.
So, dad, I'm thinking of you and hoping all the fairways are clear wherever you may be golfing now.