Fore! And I don’t mean like in “ball four.” Who knew I could hit 4 hybrid that far? Of course, before I hit the ball I should have realized it either would draw to the right, or that I might be aiming directly at that threesome in front of us. I never considered might actually go where I aimed it. Anyway “Fore!, Sorry!” I cannot believe it went that far. They waved, indicating they were ok and appreciated the warning. (Nice hit though.)
“Nice hit, Dad. I bet if you used a 3 hybrid you could have put it right into their cart,” Rosie said with a smirk. “Probably could have smacked one of the right in the head. Pow!”
“Shush up, Rosie, and stop chasing my golf balls after I hit them. This is not a game, you know.”
“Uh, Dad, maybe you would have more fun if you played golf as if it were a game.”
David, my friend since kindergarten, my brother John,, and I were playing golf on the course where all three of us learned to play 60 years ago. Since retiring and moving to California I play a lot of golf. Both of them were much better than me back when they both played a lot of golf, but neither John nor David have played much in many years. The score didn’t matter (much, to me anyway.) I really just wanted to be with them and have some fun, although I have often said if you really want to have fun, don’t play golf.
If you look towards the northeast on some holes you can see Chipman Hill, where John and I were raised and lived until we went off to college. I pointed that out to Rosie.
“Look, Rose. See that little hill over there? That’s where John and I lived before we moved away.”
After John, David and I played golf and uttered some choice adult words we decided to adjourn to Mr. Up’s, a Middlebury mainstay restaurant for many years for lunch and quaff some adult beverages. Rosie didn’t mind. She is used to sitting under tables and not eating any people food.
Completing this arduous and onerous task John and I elected to return to camp for an urgent nap. Rosie was eager to go back and play with Kris’s Havanese, Quinn.
We ate an excellent dinner on the porch that evening. Afterwards Fran and I drove to the Burlington International Airport to pick up Neil and Maureen. Rosie thought going to bed early would be a fine idea. Running around a golf course, even from the “senior tees” was an exhausting day. He would see them in the morning.
The cell phone waiting area is just past the airport entrance, down a narrow unlit street and in an unpaved, unlit pasture-like field. The good news it that is was free and near the runway where you could see the planes land. They arrived right on time, their luggage slid down the ramp a few minutes later and we picked them up. It was about 11:15 pm at this point and that is well beyond my bedtime, and Neil was still on Seattle time, I asked him to drive back to the camp. Smart move on my part.