(my father golfing in the 70’s)

even though i never played the game, golf was a major part of my childhood. my father was an avid player who frequently said, “golf is the most fun you can have with your clothes on.” as an economics professor, he had a pretty flexible schedule and i have clear memories of him preparing his bag (making sure there were plenty of clean white balls and colorful tees in the side pocket and all the wooden clubs were carefully covered in knit sleeves with pom poms on top to protect them from banging into each other) for a round several times a week. when he returned he would meticulously clean his clubs in the laundry room sink with a toothbrush (i am not sure if this was typical for other golfers or if he was particularly thorough.) he never strayed from this ritual so his clubs were always pristine. on those evenings he would take us through EVERY hole at dinner… how far his drives went, how many eagles or bogies or birdies he got, what his final score was and how he outplayed the other members of his foursome. (my grandmother always told him not to let anyone put a basket over his light and he let his light SHINE!) 

i feel like i spent half my childhood on a golf course… not playing, just trotting behind my dad and peeing in the woods when we were too far away from the clubhouse. perhaps this is why making corona nature pees to avoid germy public bathrooms during the pandemic has felt like deja vu. for someone who does not camp, i am surprisingly adept at missing my shoes.

when we were home, my father was frequently putting or chipping in the backyard… tipping over titleist boxes and deftly hitting balls into the tiny square opening. he especially loved it when my friends were over to witness his prowess. when it got dark he would (carefully) putt in the living room -  my mother did not allow the big driver swings after a divet was taken out of our rocker (i think my brother did that.) 

i was also very well versed in the strengths, successes and devastating losses of the likes of jack nicklaus, arnold palmer, sam snead, ben hogan, the “shark” australian guy and later tiger woods. when it was “master season” golf was frequently on the TV and we were not allowed to speak when one of his favorites was driving, as if we were actually there and could startle them mid swing. “now watch this putt!” my father would direct when he sensed our attention waning. if the ball rolled past the cup he would cringe in disappointment. he had all of their stats memorized and at the ready (he WAS a math professor) and was happy to discuss them.

my dad felt that you could take measure of someone’s intelligence, athleticism and character by the power and fluidity of their swing. he found it almost shameful when someone did not take the time to develop a beautiful swing (like his.) as such, he liked to take my boyfriends golfing so he could determine whether they were worthy. (there were other criteria as well - he wanted them to be “handsome as the day is long” and a real “man’s man” which was never clearly defined, some amorphous definition of masculinity.) i found these outings a bit stressful when i was included. while boyfriend was at the tee my father would hold my hand, while dad was at the tee my boyfriend would hold my hand and walking to the next hole i would be sandwiched between them with each of them gripping a hand. my father always played his best when a boyfriend was present as if to show them, “you will never be me.” he once hit his ball through an impossibly small hole in the branches of a tree to have it land perfectly on the green. that boyfriend said, “now jennifer, that’s a golf shot” winning my father’s heart forever.

(my father practicing his swing in front of his house)

when first husband asked my father for permission to marry me, he was given three criteria:

1. i was NOT to change my name (it was my father’s after all… i didn’t and that made things just a bit simpler after the divorce - pro tip!)

2. we had to move back to california (we DID briefly do this six months after the wedding - the move coincided with a san francisco job offer for first.)

3. he had to learn how to golf. (he did NOT do this - foreshadowing?)

one summer when the kids and i were visiting my parents and some tournament was on TV, my dad started detailing to my son (who was about nine at the time) the rise and fall of tiger’s career  - tiger had started playing again, but was still not winning or even placing well at this point. we explained how tiger’s poor personal choices had also derailed his game, his reputation, his teeth and his endorsements. when theo saw pictures of elin, he couldn’t believe tiger would even consider being unfaithful. i asked him what his takeaway was from tiger’s saga that entailed him getting his teeth knocked out with the very tool that brought him so much success. theo quickly replied, “don’t mess with swedish girls!” “what about ‘don’t cheat on your wife??’ i countered, but theo only shrugged. 

(tiger and elin in happier times)

when we got back from our road trip to california this summer theo announced that he’d like to start playing golf. “REALLY?? you couldn’t come up with that idea when we were in berkeley for a month and grandpa could have given you lessons every day? AND we could have brought a set of clubs home (my dad has a bazillion of them) with us in the car ride back??” again, theo just shrugged. he and his friends started meeting up at a local course and he shared clubs with a buddy until my dad generously mailed him a bag with a driver, several irons and a putter. he also included, of course, ben hogan’s book: “five lessons, the fundamentals of golf” which is like a bible for my father as well as a list of his own tips for a strong swing.

(a vintage copy of THE ben hogan book and extra tips from my dad)

i was getting really worried that theo would develop a shameful, wonky swing by teaching himself… damaging forever his very intellect, character and manliness so i quickly began researching where he could get some proper coaching. thankfully, our neighbor’s kids golf and she directed me to a solid program (as well as gifted lucy a lovely set of clubs that her daughter grew out of before she really used them - so NICE!) anyway - both kids had their first lessons back to back last week while i sat in the clubhouse drinking arnold palmers and eating a club sandwich, feeling oddly comfortable… it was a bonus that i was able to use a real bathroom, rather than the woods. theo went first and was so proud that he’d made a super tricky putt with a complicated curve after only ten tries. then lucy went and made it in FIVE. theo was flabbergasted and certain that the coach had miscounted or that it was just dumb luck. “NO!” lucy exclaimed, “that was all me! i’m just really good.” she doesn’t let anyone put a basket over her light either.

(tiny lucy with the coach)

(theo putting - such a good game for social distancing)

(both arnold palmers)

(what’s better than a classic club sandwich and fries?)

* UPDATE from week two - lucy got an “up and down” when you chip UP onto the green and hit your putt DOWN into the cup in one go. theo got TWO of them so he is feeling redeemed! x0x

(lucy and her girlfriend mini golfing years ago)