Sitting here, I’m gazing out my window admiring the scintillating weather that we’ve been blessed with here in Niagara. As I write this, the sky is void of any clouds, the sun feels glorious on my aging body, and the temperature is a balmy 27 degrees Celsius. Or for my imperial measurement viewers 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Not bad for 5:30 p.m. on October 23rd.
it was a splendid day weather-wise, which made for an even nicer day for taking my golf clubs for a ride in the truck, my sticks, consequently riding in the “shotgun” position beside me. Occasionally, I’d cop a look over tat them. The plan was simple, my wife would start work at 2 p.m. and after kissing her bye I’d swing by the doctor’s office to pick-up my ultrasound request, and make a telephone call to a Pro Shop, somewhere. Prime golf weather.
There’s one golf course… No, that’s a lie, there’ve been several golf courses on my mind lately but there is one, in particular, that I’ve talked about quite a bit recently. That golf course is Niagara-On-the-Lake Golf Club, and it’s the oldest golf course in North America. Without getting into it too much and spoiling a future golf review article, the golf course was established in 1875.
So, after walking out of the doctor’s office, I hopped into my truck and started to ask “Siri” to start making calls to the course. Unfortunately, my phone calls were never answered. So, being the heady, quasi-intellectual that I am, I decided to start driving while calling along the way. Nothing! Bummer! Were there other golf courses that I could have tried to make a te time at? Why certainly, but if there’s one character flaw that I have (there are several) it’s that when I put my mind to something, while I don’t obsess over it, I do happen to wear “blinders”. Total tunnel vision. Think of me as a terrier dog, and if you don’t know much about terriers, they are known for biting and not letting go. That’s me.
I hadn’t given up on playing golf today in this ‘one day only’ summer fling, there were still about three hours of daylight left. But then on the way to my target course, where I still hadn’t made a tee time, a bridge crossing was closed forcing a detour. A sign that maybe playing wasn’t meant to be? That’s life, living on one of the busiest inland commercial waterways in the world. We get nailed with bridges going up, bridges being closed, and then there are the tunnels. Thinking about the tunnels actually exhausts me.
By the time, I made my way around the detour my body took over. I went from feeling generally okay to being at the point where playing golf today was merely a romantic and poetic thought. Health issues are nothing new to me, or my readers for that matter, but whatever is going on with my kidney’s and/or prostate right now, stinks. We’re slowly getting to the bottom of it. Today was a rarity. In a way, similar to spotting a unicorn, Chupacabra, or a Sasquatch. I listened to my body.
Unceremoniously, I turned my jalopy around and headed home. Defeated. Live to golf another day, right? While this might be the last of 80 degree temperatures that I see for a while, in saying that I predict June, this won’t be my last kick at the proverbial golfing can. I’ll have better days where I feel good enough to play, and that’s exactly what I’ll do.
As long as there’s a golf course open, and I have some grass to walk on. I’ll play. So long sultry, summery weather.
Until The Next Tee!!