G.O.L.F.

The first golf lesson I ever took was PC (Pre-Children). I know, that was over 30 years ago, and yes, I still stink! Quit laughing, my Estero Country Club (ECC) friend’s! Problem is once the kids showed up, I was just a golf-widow and only played, if I was lucky, twice a year. So those umpteen years in between labor & delivery and empty nest don’t really count. At least not in golf years.

Those PC lessons I took years ago were held at the driving range on the Berlin Tpke in Newington, CT. For those of you familiar with CT, you know, it’s right next to the skeevey Grantmoor Motel. (Is that even still there?) I remember, conservative Kate here, feeling REALLY out of place driving up there. The driving range and the motel pretty much shared the same parking lot. I wanted to wear a big sign saying, “I’m going golfing, not renting a room for an hour!” Anyway, the first thing the teacher told us was that golf originated in Scotland and the letters G.O.L.F. really stood for: (ladies are you sitting down?) “Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden.” Welcome to class where Kate is already ticked w/in T minus 3 minutes. I’ll show him!! Anywho, the lessons went better than expected. I did hit the ball pretty far, but I was told I swing as if I’m playing softball. I can’t help it. (Consequently, and to this day, I also can’t help yelling out things such as, “foul ball,” “grounder,” “ base hit up the middle,” or even “home run!”) My entire childhood consisted of daily and I mean daily, softball, baseball, and bloat bat (fat whiffle ball bat) tourneys in the backyard. Did I golf? No freakingfanelli way!! That cost big bucks and we didn’t have any bucks never mind big bucks! My 2 older brothers did caddy at the Clinton CC in Clinton, CT for a few summers. Some day, maybe, I’ll get to play there. A mile from our house and I never played there, ever.

In 1960, when my father picked out the lot to build his one and only house, he picked the biggest lot on our dead end street. It really wasn’t yuge, (neither was the house!) well, not for baseball, but when mowing it with a push mower, it was massive!! We (we= the brothers 4 and I, plus boys from the neighborhood) played and played and ran and threw and hit balls every day. Our own Dunn family local rules, at least in whiffle ball, you could be called out if hit by yes, a thrown ball. The harder it was thrown, the bigger the welt. “Ouch!! Maaaaa, tell Timmy to cut it out!” You’d think I’d have learned how to slide to avoid the welts. Nope. I never did. It’s just not in my DNA to throw myself ONTO the ground. (Trip and fall? Lately? Yes!) Basically, I grew up playing with the boys, but I’m really not a Tom boy nor am I a girly girl. I’m just tall, strong and semi-coordinated. As one, now good ECC friend referred to me, the first time she met me, it was also my first round ever at ECC. She said, “You’re a bit irreverent!” My reply, “I’m guessing that wasn’t a compliment.” She loves me now. She gets me. I have fun. I don’t take golf too seriously, which is prob why I never get any better. One of these days, maybe I’ll concentrate on my game and even behave as an adult. Nope, not a chance!

Xo, Kate

Estero, FL

Dec 2, 2020

Grateful with all my heart and soul that my Dad had nothing but gave us everything. He is missed. ❤️