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It’s My Turn, Dad



Just hitting some balls with my silky Taylormade irons here at a local city course. Only got a minute before the young city kids arrive for their golf clinic. . . Takes me back to when I was their age. . .

I’m so grateful to my Dad for introducing me to this great game of golf nearly four decades ago. We lived as a modest military family.  He served in the USAF and has been an avid golfer for as long as I can remember.  He even played the Old Course at St. Andrews. . .

Dad sent me to a few junior golf clinics just like this one, took me to play some base courses growing up, and even splurged to get me a package of golf lessons with the head PGA club pro in our town.  I learned to hit the golf ball with an old cut down persimmon 4-wood that my Dad gave me.  Then on numerous birthdays and Christmases thereafter, he would give me a brand new Big Bertha driver or a shiny set of irons that seem like old antiques now.

When I didn’t yet have a driver’s license, Dad would drop me and my friend off to play golf on Saturdays or an early weekday morning in the summer.  We carried our bags, paid the junior walking rate, and used our extra cash to get a cheeseburger or hotdog hot off the grill afterwards. 

I vividly remember the clinics, lessons, and summer days at the golf course from decades ago. They are a part of who I am.  And I’ll never forget the old retiree golf junkie who often gave me bunker tips and taught me how to pitch out of that gnarly, Texas Bermuda rough.

“Open the clubface more,” the retiree would holler from across the practice green.

So here I am.  Now it’s my turn, long overdue, to give back this wonderful gift of golf to you, Dad, and in fact, to anyone else who wants to experience it. . . Dad, I’m so glad you still get to enjoy the game and are getting good use out of those new irons. . . 

Now, I think I’ll hit one more stinger with this 6-iron and then I better get out of the way so these kids can have at it.  

“Have fun kids!”