Super skirt

I approached our recent vacation in Colorado with 3 lofty goals:

1. Get a picture of a moose
2. Buy some new cowboy boots
3. Break 40 on nine holes of golf

I was successful on two of the the three.

We arrived at a little before noon on a Friday and I was on the links by 2:00pm in hot pursuit of the third goal.  Not knowing anyone at the course, the starter randomly grouped me with three complete strangers…one a guy about my age, fair golfer, nice guy, name was John…one a very athletic salesman type, Randy, an African American, very good golfer (complained about shooting 2 over par), rode the cart with me…one an obvious octogenarian…Luke was his name…very thin, very wrinkled, and pulling a cart full of clubs…intending to walk the 18 holes.

I could sense right away Luke was going to be a problem.  I hate doing anything slow…especially golf.  My motto:  "It’s okay to be bad, it’s not okay to be slow".  A little obnoxious, I know…but true.  You can play with anyone, as long as you keep up the pace.  How slow is an 86 year old guy pulling a walking cart on a 93 degree day?  This was going to be a long, frustrating day, I told myself…not a good way to start the vacation.

I was wrong.  It was an incredible experience.  Luke turned out to be a real piece of work.

He was a good golfer…played 3 times per week (unless there was a tournament on Sunday’s, then he played 4 times).  He had shot his age every year since he turned 74 (for those of you who are not golfers, I will not take the time to explain how incredible that is…other than to say that it doesn’t look like I will live long enough to ever accomplish that feat).  He didn’t hit it as far as he used too, he said…but almost every shot was strait.  As far as keeping up…by the time I criss crossed the golf course, riding in a cart, chasing my occasional often times lost balls…Luke was usually somewhere near the middle of the fairway, pulling his clubs behind him, waiting on me to hit the next ball.

It wasn’t the fact that he was a good golfer that made it an incredible experience…it was his story.

He’d lived a lot of life in those 86 years.  Worked in the mines in Butte, Montana until a war broke out in 1940.  Served with the greatest generation defending our freedoms for the next few years.  Went to Mass every week…in fact he started helping as an alter boy in the late 1920′s (didn’t keep him from having colorful commentary on errant shots from time to time).

But the most amazing things about his story was that he had been married to the same woman for 61 years.  More precisely, they had walked the aisle exactly 61 years ago from the day we played golf together.  Get it?  He was celebrating his anniversary by doing what he did 3 or 4 days a week…walking, pulling his clubs behind, chasing a small, round, white ball around 18 holes with 3 complete strangers…at 86 years old.

At that point I became the student.

How do you stay married to the same person for 61 years?  How do you stay healthy enough to shoot your age at 86?  More importantly…how do you get away with playing 18 holes on your anniversary?  I’m all ears!

"It’s not a big secret, really", Luke tells me as he drops a long putt.  "Super skirt (obviously his pet name for her) doesn’t mind what I do as long as she knows she’s first on my list.  This morning I had two roses waiting for her when she woke up…made her breakfast in bed…and today while we play, she will shop till she drops…she thinks I’m doing this for her."

What a crafty old geezer.  I want to be like him when I’m 86.

Toward the end of our match Luke implored us to pick up our pace…see, him and ‘super skirt’ had a date that night…they were going to go celebrate…a nice meal…some dancing…and who knows what…he didn’t want to be late.

Oh yeah…I beat him by two…he faded a little at the end…the hot sun will do that to you when your 86 and walking, I guess.