Golf Stories
Golf -
A Family Affair to Remember
My dad was in the Navy during World War II, so we moved around a lot, I was never in one place for a long period of time. One thing that I missed was getting to spend a lot of time with my grandmother. When we would come to Ann Arbor, Michigan I stayed with her as much as possible. There was so much about her I didn't know. One of those things was that she played golf.
My family finally landed in a small town in the thumb of Michigan. The center of activity bedsides the beaches was the private country club that provided most of the activities for the young people. I was one of the few kids who wanted to learn to play golf. I figured much of the game out by myself.
That experience then leads me to my 20's and the opportunity to play golf with my grandmother and my mother. My grandmother was shaped a little like a bird, skinny legs, large belly and a well-endowed chest. She struck quite a pose as she got ready to hit the ball. She could hit that ball so powerfully; she really understood the physics of the golf swing. That along with the conditions of many of the golf courses in the 1970's was dry, dusty, hilly and bumpy. So you get where I'm headed…If it wasn't for the radar she had on her ball you would have no idea where that little white ball would finally come to rest.
You can't imagine the variety – terrible lies, and other obstacles – but she would address the ball and wallop it a country mile. I wish we had taken pictures of us golfing together.
Regarding my mother, the apple fell far from the tree. My mother just wasn't cut out to be a golfer. We golfed on a league together, but had social hour the entire time we tired to play golf. My mother always gave my sister and I many funny stories about her and golf.
When my mother would hit the ball you never knew where it would go. You had to be careful not to get hit. She'd hit her ball next to a golfer who was attempting to tee off the next hole. The ball would land next to his feet; he would get as confused as to where the ball came from. We never admitted it was hers. My sister would sometimes play golf with mom and me when she came to visit.
We have laughed about this one for over 30 years. We call it the shrinking woman. Mom always would retrieve her errant balls, wherever they were. She especially liked swampy, mushy, pond edges. I guess she thought she could walk on water. This particular incident she had to descend a hill and into the pond. All of a sudden she stopped going forward, and started going down.
Before we could barely see the top of her head, we both took off on a mad dash thinking to ourselves this must be quicksand. Who was going to save her? By the time we got here she was climbing out.
She had the thickest mud from just below her knees down and completely covered her shoes. I can barely talk about this without laughing. This particular day we were playing in the league, seeing how this happened on the 4th hole, she had to finish out the last 5 caked in mud.
There was no place to go clean up, so chin-up and full speed ahead. My sister and I couldn't play very well because we couldn't stop laughing. The mud hardened like clay and we hard to chip it off her once we got done. Needless to say she stopped retrieving her balls out of the mud. It is too bad we didn't have a video camera. We might have made money on America's Funniest Videos. What glorious memories.
Today, my mom has the wonderful opportunity to play golf with me. I have been working in the golf industry and seem to be a decent golfer. What a wonderful bonding experience some of the women in my family have.
Golf is a lifetime sport that given a chance to play with older and younger family members creates a special bond and great memories.
... Sharon Koppe