Every now and then, it dawns upon me that this “Bad Golf Guy” website is my website and I can pretty well post what I damn well please! Tough talk (it’s really harmless, trying to get a chuckle) however it does feel liberating, and on the flip-side, my loyal followers, can pretty well choose to read, or not read, what I damn well post. Also liberating, I can only assume!
Today’s offering is a bit off topic and is predominantly written for my brother (John) and those that were fortunate enough to know our Dad (Jack)…May 20, 1924-January 4, 2013.
On May 20th each year, for the past eight years, my brother and I connect early in the morning, starting our conversation with our customary salutation, ”Hi Honey” (reminiscent of our father’s sarcastic greeting) wanting to acknowledge/celebrate Dad’s birthday. May 20, 2020 would have been his 96th. Somewhere during the course of this year’s exchange, we talked about how nice it would be to have just one more day with Jack.
That got me thinking; what would our day look like, where would we go, what would we do and who would we see.
Our day starts early, Jackie toiling in the kitchen, rattling the cupboards, waking the neighbors, making lunch, packing a few sandwiches and a few Schmidt’s into the cooler, along with an ample supply of Fritos. We head out for breakfast, towing the “Bungle Bee” (a bright yellow 14’ Penn-Yan), meeting Uncle Dave (our favorite Uncle, who wasn’t really an uncle) at the Diner, hoping against hope there’s some scrapple on the menu. Following breakfast, off to troll the depths of Spruce Run Lake for four to five hours, yielding bupkis!
Then back to the house and Washington Avenue Park where Dad hits endless “fungoes”, followed by a game or two of “Running Bases” with our neighbor Mr. Eckman. The backyard Olympics conclude with a “Beershoes” tournament. Beershoes, a variation of horseshoes, where two players play from opposite ends, throwing all four shoes one after the other, tallying the four shoe score while remaining at opposite ends, avoiding travel and potential spillage.
The day is slipping away however more hilarity is forthcoming, as a gathering of friends including the Eckman’s, the Monticello’s and the Herewagen’s begin to file into the kitchen. Pig’s feet, pig’s knuckles, herring and Limburger cheese, along with a few more Schmidt’s are on the menu.
As the throngs depart, it is time for the best part of our day, a family dinner, featuring Mom’s famous spaghetti sauce/gravy, the recipe compliments of Mrs. Monticello. Three portions later, tons of laughs later, a few rolled up napkins having hit their mark in various and assorted drink glasses later, we somehow find room for Grandma’s cherry cheesecake.
Following dinner, we all take a quick trip to the basement to peruse Dad’s woodworking shop and to get an update on the latest project. In plain sight of Mom, we swipe our fingers over the top of a few countertops in her laundry, yards away from Dad’s woodworking shop. The sawdust filled results have been a point of contention and laughter for countless years.
It’s getting late, our day is winding down and similar to a scene from an old movie, the lights dim and our Jackie-Boy starts to slip away into a dense fog. A deep sadness takes hold until we hear him lovingly address his wife and his oldest son (John) concluding with the words, “Love yah, you horse’s-ass (an endearing pet name for his youngest son). See you down the road!”
Note: A horse’s ass, as defined by Funk and Wagnalls Dictionary, is a stupid or incompetent person. How fitting!
We wish you all a very Happy Father’s Day!
If you are enjoying our weekly posts, we’d be eternally grateful if you’d spread the word. Thank you for following Bad Golf Guy and be sure to check us out on Instagram.
The back nine can only get better!
Thanks for sharing. Happy Father’s Day! Great PICS!