Flashback Friday

In scrounging through what is left of my belongings after the Great Flood of BFE I recently came upon this gift certificate.  There is no date.  It is made out to me in my mother's writing.  It was, I'm sure, a Christmas gift for greens fees at the Aledo Hawthorn Ridge golf course.  It was signed by her for both of my parents.  

On the back is a detail of an outing I used for $8.00.  In edgy state-of-the-art pre-digital or pre much of anything, save an abacus, this seems awful quaint.  The subtraction is clearly noted.   I have just a couple comments, then we'll dispense with this Flashback for today.  

• Is it me or does $24.00 seem a little off?  Traditionally aren't gifts are $20, or $25?  What's with $24?

• This is creepily ancient.  I wouldn't mind taking up a little golf again.  Unfortunately Holly threw my clubs in the garbage a few years ago.  Wonder if Hawthorne would honor this?  Maybe just buy a nice HR polo and forget the golf.  Seems a shame to pay $400 for a set of clubs just to get $16 taken off the fees. 

• Wonder why Hawthorne instead of Oak View CC?  With four family members there greens fees would have seems much more logical.  Easier to find a foursome, too.  A mystery that will likely never be solved.  Then again, I could give it to Wombie Mark who plays golf passionately.  Have I mentioned there are around 4 hole-in-ones within the family?  If I'm not mistaken, and I could be, Holly has one, Mark has 2, and Herb had one.

My best golf was always in my dreams, on Friday night before a Saturday round.  It's what drove me to buy an old car, and another, and another.  Too much Saturday morning frustration, introversion and far too few good shots. Decided sitting in a chair beaming at an old car was a better way to spend my time.  Saturday's became too busy with car shows to venture onto the hallowed fairways of a golf course.  But I always had fun.  Kicking back and casual golf on a beautiful morning is unbeatable.  

Once on an early misty morning we saw two deer run from where we were on the number 9 tee off, across the valley along #4 fairway up through number 2, and over the highway going into Aledo on Rt. 67.  Funny, I don't remember drinking much while playing golf, maybe two or three times.  It was almost like the game had to be respected.  Keep your wits, play golf, and the bar will be open at the end of the game.   

Of course there are many things I remember.  Phil and Chesty feeding off each other's jokes and hearing them both hoot with laughter.  Herb clenching a cigar in his mouth when he clubbed the ball.  I also remember each and every times I duffed it to the amusement of others, although usually they kept quiet.  No sense in outward mockery, we'll wait till the 19th hole.

And of course I have some memories of golf with the MDH guys, notably Randy and Mike.  I can still see that bird fall out of the sky from Randy's fairway shot.  And of course that nasty bit of business with Randy and Blackie that ended up in a bit of a tussle.  Seems Blackie thought Randy's shot was pushing their group a tad, but really, Randy just got a hold of one that he couldn't duplicate if he had 1000 swings.  

I recall all of the people of the Club who are no longer with us.  Guys like Chesty, Hogie, Doc, Jay,  and a host of others I can't remember.  We started going to the Club when we were in junior high to golf, but before that we'd go to the movies then spend time at the Club till Marj and Herb went home.  For a time Marj played the organ there to entertain in the bar area.  It was a fascinating peek into adulthood.  It was cool, and of course everyone fawned over the twins.

It has been an integral part of the Blythe family, with, at one time Club memberships for Herb, Phil and Mark.  Upstairs has hosted many class reunions and both Mark and my wedding receptions.  Downstairs, gone is the old horseshoe Tiki motif and a newer room length bar;  the place where you discussed your game with a cold one or several.  It was a place where a stranger came in the back door once looking for Hawthorne and remarked how such a small place had two golf courses.  Herb remarked there was talk of a third one, too.  Of course there wasn't but it got a good laugh.  It was a place Herb stepped on it one day relaying a joke about one of the Frye boys and forgetting one of the listeners was his father-in-law. It was the place where one New Year's Eve dance the band leader asked all the vets to stand while they played Lee greenwood's God Bless the USA, and I sentimentally got teary-eyed.  Herb stood up, ramrod straight and proud.

Nothing much has changed.  The bar area gets renovated once in a while, but the noises and the laughter remain the same.  The lockers I remember as a kid are still being used.  They may get a new splash of paint every so often but the familiar clanging remains the same.  Newer members become active as the older ones fade away, much like the paper my gift certificate is on.

All I have to do is open the door, and by the time I make it to the bar there's always at least a beer or two ready for me.   Yup, gonna have to go golfing again, I suppose, if only for old times sake.