OVCC

This is the driveway to the Oak View Country Club in Aledo.  The pictures were sent to me by Mrs. Wombie last week.  There's been at least one Blythe member for the last 60 years.  At one point there were three of them. This is the drive from the main road that will take you to the Clubhouse, cart sheds and the #1 tee off.   For most of those 60 years we have been driving up this road the hillsides were full of lush green oak trees.  Now it is littered with fallen limbs and trunks.  Now if you want lush, turn around and try somewhere else, lush left this place last year.  The grass is greening here today, and the guys who make this a beautiful course are doing their thing.  But golfing will be a less fun time this year.  This year will take a little to get used to.  A whole lot more sun will be shining on the course, and some golfer's scores will lower just a tad.  The trees that kept the sun from shining everywhere, and the trees that made some errant shots impossible, are gone.  It's a little like a convertible I saw once at a car show.  Some guy took a saw and converted a hardtop into a ragtop.  It was kind of pretty, but you just knew it didn't ride or look like it was supposed to.    

Because I lived in a neighboring county and worked many weekends I was never a member, but having family there drew me in on a lot of things.  This was where I had my wedding reception.  I golfed a lot in high school and then every once in a while in college.  Eventually I would nestle into a two or three times routine with Herb, Mark and Phil or maybe Chesty.  My passion tended toward old steel not golf clubs. 

Memories flood back when I return.  My mother used to play the organ during weekend nights back in the day, giving the bar a real night club feel.  As a wee lads the Wombie and I would be full of awe and intimidation when the bar was decorated like a Hawaiian hut and all the adults would be doing what adults did.  It was the place where Herb told the joke heard round the world, and he came home shaking in embarrassment that he told it.   It was the place where I pent New Years once with my folks and at one point the DJ asked all the vets to stand while he played Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA and I teared up as he stood ramrod straight.  It was where a guy walked in one time and asked where Hawthorne was.  herb said it was down the road about three miles.  The guy said there sure were a lot of golf courses for a small town and he replied, "Yeah, and we're thinking of building another one."  

Danny invited me over one Saturday afternoon the last time I was in Northlandia so it still remains a apart of my life.  Thanks again, sir. 

The place is more than trees.  More than scores, more than a few beers on a Saturday.  It is a living history of people who have gone before and those who are just getting started here themselves.  They will make their own memories with friends like we all did.  Its much more than trees, but, damn, they are sure gonna be missed.