Twice burned

 

About a year ago the Meadowbrook Golf Clubhouse in Reading, MA burned to the ground. 

This may not mean a lot to most of you reading this, but it was part of my childhood and  part of my family's with memberships going back to the 1930s. The club has existed since 1898.

My family were golfing fiends and loved me despite having to drag me to Saturday morning lessons or to the course for nine holes of family togetherness by playing.  I would disappear into the woods, pick blue berries, check out the development of tad poles in nearby waterholes and do everything but concentrate on my swing.

It was also a social center with dances, talent shows and other events. My favorite, of course, were the family night suppers where all the kids would be herded into the basement to watch cartoons after the meal and Andy Bellivue would show off his spelling talents with words like antidisestablishmentarianism and Mississippi.

While my parents played, Rosemary Sias and I would often find a quiet corner and play Canasta. No one seemed to mind two kids were on their own. Sometime we would practice our putting and go to the proshop to buy Coke and candy. My uncle, who worked there after his retirement to get him away from my aunt's sight, would run a tab for us.

My Dad met my stepmom there and that led to my parents' divorce, a relief to all.

In winter the hills were great for tobogganing or just plain sledding.

Hot days were often spent by the pool with lunch in the restaurant.

The member-owned club was being rebuilt to be opened in June. This month the almost complete club house burned down.

Before the pandemic, my husband and I had arranged to play there on a trip to the States. He's an avid golfer: I wonder if the blueberries and tadpoles are still there.