Golf

As part of playing in hickory golf tournaments, 

one dresses as in the days of yore.

My husband, a golf fanatic, can spot a golf course many miles away. He looks at rolling countrysides and deem them worthy of a nine or 18-hole course.

Two years ago while staying in Scotland, he played Musselburgh golf course (generally considered one of the oldest courses in the world) and learned of hickory golf clubs. That is the wood used for the shafts before being replaced by metal. He came home from the experience eyes all aglow. 

He delved into the history of the game, popular since the 1400s especially the development of hickory clubs and was hooked. 

To Saint Gallen we had to go to meet Joe Lauber.

He is now the proud owner of a set of hand-made hickory clubs by Lauber. 

He also has learned of, has played in, and will play in hickory tournaments around Europe. He has made contact with many of the hickory golf associations around the world. He is a happier puppy than our dog Sherlock at dinner time.

This is great for me, because I go too. I can happily lounge around Davos at a hotel that hosted world leaders while he is out on the links or investigate another city, another country. And we will be heading to Ireland in June for another tournament.

My history of golf is different. I was born into a golfing family. As a kid I was forced, yes forced, to take golf lessons on Saturday mornings when the cartoons were much more interesting. If we played as a family my father would get frustrated that I wandered off to pick blueberries or look at tadpoles in one of the ponds along the course.

As an adult I did play a few times, enjoyed it, but not enough to do regularly. Still, I am thrilled at my husband's pleasure.

In writing this blog, I've thought back to my teacher, Tex McReynolds, a lanky bald Texan with a fringe of red hair and patience beyond what should be expected of mortals towards nine-year olds that didn't want a lesson. I was never fresh (my parents would not condone that) and he did make the lessons fun.

My husband has commented the few times we have played together, that I seem to know what I'm doing, thank you Tex. Also when he comes home to talk about his birdie, his wedge, etc. I know what he is talking about...this is great sharing without having to go out on the course.

I was curious about Tex and looked him up on the internet and found this about him. It is too late to thank him for his patience.

'NEW ENGLAND PROFESSIONAL GOLFERS’ ASSOCIATION HALL OF FAME 1999 A native of Abilene, Texas, “Tex” didn’t take up golf until he went into the service during World War II. After the war, Tex started as assistant professional at Brae Burn Country Club in Newton, Massachusetts. Four years later he became head professional at Meadowbrook Country Club in Reading, Massachusetts and served there until assuming the head professional position at the prestigious Winchester Country Club in Arlington, Massachusetts in 1955. Tex remained at Winchester until his retirement, enjoying a thirty-one year long, and highly successful tenure. Tex was recognized as a “teacher of teachers”, one of the finest the great game of golf had to offer. He was a great player of the game too, winning the NEPGA Championship in 1950 and 1960 and the New Hampshire Open in 1953, among other championship events. Tex was a mentor to many upcoming NEPGA professionals and his training and advice helped them to go on to achieve highly successful careers in the golf industry. Tex was affectionately called “the master” by those who learned the great game of golf from him. Tex is remembered as an exemplary golf professional and a man of the highest ideals and integrity.'

So, although I may never have the passion for the sport, I appreciate it: I appreciate what Tex taught me about attitude and I appreciate my husband's love of it.