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Entries categorized as ‘Moms’

Mother’s Day 2010

May 8, 2010 · Leave a Comment

Mothers Day is today.  When I was a kid I used to say “Why isn’t there a kid’s day?”  My Mom would say dragging out the first sylable…evvveryday is kids day.”  You too?

Well she of course was right about this and everything else she used to say including what a good son I was.

I’ve devoted this space to Mom before and between us friends when I need a good cry I go back and read it.  It may sound arrogant to tell you I bring myself to tears once a year but really it’s more sincere than false, and I love it every time.

But that was then and this is now.  I want to tell you about my good wife and the Mother she has turned out to be.  You can tell by the photo above that at 23 she  was (and is)  a stunner.  A head turning beauty with more charm than sense.  When her Dad, the Rev. Dr. Claiborne Bell, ushered me into his office to ask for her hand, he was as kind as he was concerned.  For that I am forever grateful.

A Catholic boy with questionable prospects was going to take his light away…he was a learned man but more than that he was a man of faith…faith in young people and real or imagined, faith in me.

A few years later we had welcomed two boys into our world and family and ever since Audrey has been devoted to them in every beautiful sense of the word.  As little boys I was a Friday- Sunday Dad.  Off to here or there to make a living and a career…calling home at bath time from a 5-star resort in Scottsdale, Sea Island, or Hawaii…it’s what we did.

She on the other hand gave up her life for them.  She was there for the first smile, walk, words, and post-diaper moment.  Audrey left CNN on all day just to hear adults’ voices…tough stuff at times for someone with a wonderful way with people and a very good education…but it’s what we did.

What was the return?

Two exceptionally grounded kids with many accomplishments behind them and countless ones ahead. Every hour you spent at home will continue to pay dividends.

I want to say publically honey that it was you and all you…and it was worth it.

Happy Mother’s Day, you’re The Best In Golf.

Love,

Your “Boys”

Categories: Moms · Uncategorized

Masters Report, Part 2 of 2

April 15, 2010 · 4 Comments

My parents, George and Connie, are bit of a  shall we say, unusual story.

George wasn’t a child of the depression, he was already an adult.  Born in 1904,   Theodore Roosevelt was to be reelected that fall after the assassination of William McKinley and would go on to to win 32 states with over 7 million votes.

By comparison Barack Obama won 28 states and just shy of 70 million popular votes..it was a different time.

George was a Golf Pro…check that, he was an Old Pro.

Connie had an  interesting childhood to say the least…which over a Grey Goose I would be more than happy to take you through…for the sake of time and privacy though suffice it to say she grew up in trying circumstances to become one of the people in life you just gravitate to, a person you might want to be like…she lacked the ability to judge people by their appearance, religion, or any other differentiation we force on each other…a beach girl with all the moves…she was 22 years younger than George.

I tell you all this for a reason…it’s Masters Report Part 2.

We left home at the reasonable hour of 4:00 PM  Wednesday, making our way to Aiken,  SC.

The next day Michael, 17, David, 14, and Audrey, timeless,  would experience their first Masters,  As I may have mentioned in a previous post, my old friend Fred Warren put it best.  ”I only want to go if I can take someone for the first time.”

Brilliant, that described our adventure.

We took Old Hwy 78 through the country to Aiken.  The Dogwoods, Plums, and Forsythia were in all their glory…stop here for a little tip.  When you  can stay off the interstate in the South in the Spring, do it…it’s more than worth the hour you lose.

We had dinner in downtown Aiken.  It was just a pleasant coincidence that 62 years earlier to the day, George and Connie were married a block from where we had Jalapeño Poppers and Patty Melts…they were married during The Masters on April 7, 1948…Bobby Locke, the South African golfer, was the Best Man. That same year he would win  The Chicago Victory Open by 16 and in the next 10 years three British Opens…the boy could golf his ball.

Never really heard the whole story but who cares?  Just try to  imagine the suits everyone wore.

Then not so early to bed thanks to friends Meg, Laura, Joe, and Patty.

Next day broke bright and warm as it should be in Jaw-Ja in April.  We made our way to the course at the un-Godly hour of 10.  I was teaching my boys that it’s not quantity at The Big One but quality…they had no trouble staying in bed.

The rest of our magic day:

10:00 – 11:30 Amen Corner in the bleachers behind 12 tee, several pre-lunch pimento cheese sandwiches consumed

11:45-12:30- a tour of the Press building by friend Geoff Russell.  Several celebrity spottings but no more important than the young and intrepid reporter from The Fort Worth Press,  Dan Jenkins.  He was enjoying a late  morning Marlboro when I approached him.  All I wanted was for Mike and Dave to remember they met him at The Masters (his 53rd) when they were young.  He was gracious and friendly, mission accomplished and  dead solid perfect.

12:30-3:00- more food, a little sweet tea, and some wandering around the course by the boys.  Audrey and I had worn ourselves out from the hills so we sat under the big tree.  His Tigerness teed off at 1:47, a sight to see and a sound to hear…all was forgiven by the reaction of the patrons that day. During their travels the boys witnessed Phil’s first eagle of the week at 13 … they delivered a stellar report of the event.

A few hundred bucks in the concession “tent”  and out of there… home fishing on the dock at 7:20…martini at my right hand.

For the first time ever we all watched the broadcast together all day Sunday… coincidence?

What a day.

Categories: Dads · Masters · Moms

On The Eve of Something Different…

April 3, 2010 · 1 Comment

About a year ago, plus or minus, my son Michael was born.  He came into the world in a not so usual way.  After several hours of labor he was on his way.

Audrey  worked as hard as a looper lugging a Burton leather bag uphill at Oakmont in the summer, and was  understandably wrecked to say the least… but something was wrong.

The jovial “we’ve done this a hundred times this month” attitude of the OB and nurses vanished.  His umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck and every second mattered.  I was too scared to lend any sort of support I’m embarrassed to say and the combination of Audrey’s strength and the Ivy League education of the Doctor and the ice-in-the-veins calm of the nurses pulled it out in the end.

I assure you Jack never made a 4-footer to win a major with more quiet confidence.

His little brother David came along just a few weeks later  with a lot less fanfare but an equal amount  of hard work by his Mother. Fulfilling my part with the style and aplomb my friends have come to expect, I  inhaled a nice piece of cherry pie in the cafeteria a few minutes before the delivery.  Never let it be said I didn’t shine at the moment of truth with gritty determination…no ice cream on the pie but a half pack of Marlboro Lights outside the maternity ward.

A few days later on the way back to the hospital I informed Big Bro that we were heading to McDonald’s and then would be retrieving Mom and baby brother to bring them home.  ”Oh No” said The Heir…we could visit them but no way was The Spare coming home with us…and he was serious.

It seems as I write this that  I’ve made a slight error.  They weren’t born this year…it only seems that way to a me.  They are in fact almost 18 and almost 15…an Eagle Scout and a soon to be Eagle Scout.  A 4.0 + student looking at colleges and an equally good student upstairs either playing his violin or his Stratocaster….two respectful, smart boys who always have the time to help with no questions asked.

Don’t let anyone tell you the youth of today are in trouble…I have mine and know many of my friend’s kids who prove they are better than we were in every way.

Where in the world has it gone?

It’s Spring Break.  As long as my boys have been alive Masters Week has been Spring Break.  I spent the first few days in Augusta with clients having fun, drinking Kettle One and Silver Oak…rare beef and bluebird sky rounds of golf with a caddie.

No complaints to be sure, it was important to the business…and just plain crazy fun.

It occurred to me about the middle of last summer though that in a very short time they will be off on the adventure that is the rest of their lives…not mine, but theirs…and they had never been to The Masters.

I on the other hand had become bored with it.  Too much trouble with the traffic and the crowds…I was too cool to care…what a spoiled brat I had become.

Thankfully though I woke up from my near-end-of- round nap and am taking them this year on Thursday.  The irony of it being Tiger’s reboot isn’t lost on any of us.  His first day back will be my first day walking down the hill at 10 with my boys…circling down 11 and at 12 and, if there’s room, hanging out in the grandstand for a couple hours.  My hope is we will share our first pimento cheese sandwich there.  This is about us.

I’ll say “Hogan always waited to feel the breeze on his cheek before teeing of on #12″ sounding smart and not knowing or caring in the least if the legend is true.  We’ll sit by 16 green, trudge up 17 and 18, and head home.

Don’t wait…next post,  The Masters  Report.

Categories: Masters · Moms

Mother’s Day

May 11, 2007 · 3 Comments

Reverent honor and homage paid to a sacred personage, or to any object regarded as sacred.

Such is the literal definition of worship, but let me share with you the exact.

Most of us have our Mothers and a few would tell you they aren’t so sure they are glad of that…I’m here to correct you…never, and I mean never joke about two things…first, don’t joke about cancer, and second never joke about your Mom.

Moms are a different breed. They sometimes inspire outwardly, but usually are more subtle.

Ever talk to a boy who didn’t worship his Dad? Hard to find, here too.

But Mom drove you to whatever, soccer, baseball, golf, a girls house. She talked your Dad off the ledge when he was ready to kill you for your latest dumbass teenager move. Am I right?

My Mom was the coolest chick ever. A Florida girl in the old sense of the word.

In the last 15 years of her life she owned three pairs of shoes. A pair of fancy flip flops for church, concerts, and restaurants. A pair of regular flip flops (99 cents then and now) that fit the bill the rest of the time…and a pair of FJs…because golf was her thing.

She could catch, clean, and fry a mullet out of the Gulf of Mexico either because she didn’t expect you for dinner, or, more likely, because it was just damned fun.

She never wasted anything. It took me many years to understand this. I grew up in a very comfortable house…eat what you needed, if there was a little left over, so what?

That’s not the world she grew up in. If we had Blue Crabs for dinner, you could “finish” yours and she’d find enough meat on it to feed another person…it’s how she rolled.

She loved golf…not sure how many holes-in-one she made but it was a lot…I’m still waiting but maybe if I started hitting it 125 max I’d get a few.

My brother Ned is not prone to profound statements…usually it’s “What’s up”? or “Man you should have seen the Snook I just caught“.

But then again life tends to surprise you.

The greatest thing I ever heard come out of a human being is when he said, while Mom was dying, “You know we all worshipped Dad, now it’s time to figure out a way to worship Mom.”

If she’s around, call her every Sunday…if not, then you’re with me bud.

Categories: Mentors · Moms

Mother’s Day

May 11, 2007 · Leave a Comment

Reverent honor and homage paid to a sacred personage, or to any object regarded as sacred.

Such is the literal definition of worship, but let me share with you the exact.

Most of us have our Mothers and a few would tell you they aren’t so sure they are glad of that…I’m here to correct you…never, and I mean never joke about two things…first, don’t joke about cancer, and second never joke about your Mom.

Moms are a different breed. They sometimes inspire outwardly, but usually are more subtle.

Ever talk to a boy who didn’t worship his Dad? Hard to find, here too.

But Mom drove you to whatever, soccer, baseball, golf, a girls house. She talked your Dad off the ledge when he was ready to kill you for your latest dumbass teenager move. Am I right?

My Mom was the coolest chick ever. A Florida girl in the old sense of the word.

In the last 15 years of her life she owned three pairs of shoes. A pair of fancy flip flops for church, concerts, and restaurants. A pair of regular flip flops (99 cents then and now) that fit the bill the rest of the time…and a pair of FJs…because golf was her thing.

She could catch, clean, and fry a mullet out of the Gulf of Mexico either because she didn’t expect you for dinner, or, more likely, because it was just damned fun.

She never wasted anything. It took me many years to understand this. I grew up in a very comfortable house…eat what you needed, if there was a little left over, so what?

That’s not the world she grew up in. If we had Blue Crabs for dinner, you could “finish” yours and she’d find enough meat on it to feed another person…it’s how she rolled.

She loved golf…not sure how many holes-in-one she made but it was a lot…I’m still waiting but maybe if I started hitting it 125 max I’d get a few.

My brother Ned is not prone to profound statements…usually it’s “What’s up”? or “Man you should have seen the Snook I just caught“.

But then again life tends to surprise you.

The greatest thing I ever heard come out of a human being is when he said, while Mom was dying, “You know we all worshipped Dad, now it’s time to figure out a way to worship Mom.”

If she’s around, call her every Sunday…if not, then you’re with me bud.

Categories: Mentors · Moms

Mother’s Day

May 11, 2007 · Leave a Comment

Reverent honor and homage paid to a sacred personage, or to any object regarded as sacred.

Such is the literal definition of worship, but let me share with you the exact.

Most of us have our Mothers and a few would tell you they aren’t so sure they are glad of that…I’m here to correct you…never, and I mean never joke about two things…first, don’t joke about cancer, and second never joke about your Mom.

Moms are a different breed. They sometimes inspire outwardly, but usually are more subtle.

Ever talk to a boy who didn’t worship his Dad? Hard to find, here too.

But Mom drove you to whatever, soccer, baseball, golf, a girls house. She talked your Dad off the ledge when he was ready to kill you for your latest dumbass teenager move. Am I right?

My Mom was the coolest chick ever. A Florida girl in the old sense of the word.

In the last 15 years of her life she owned three pairs of shoes. A pair of fancy flip flops for church, concerts, and restaurants. A pair of regular flip flops (99 cents then and now) that fit the bill the rest of the time…and a pair of FJs…because golf was her thing.

She could catch, clean, and fry a mullet out of the Gulf of Mexico either because she didn’t expect you for dinner, or, more likely, because it was just damned fun.

She never wasted anything. It took me many years to understand this. I grew up in a very comfortable house…eat what you needed, if there was a little left over, so what?

That’s not the world she grew up in. If we had Blue Crabs for dinner, you could “finish” yours and she’d find enough meat on it to feed another person…it’s how she rolled.

She loved golf…not sure how many holes-in-one she made but it was a lot…I’m still waiting but maybe if I started hitting it 125 max I’d get a few.

My brother Ned is not prone to profound statements…usually it’s “What’s up”? or “Man you should have seen the Snook I just caught“.

But then again life tends to surprise you.

The greatest thing I ever heard come out of a human being is when he said, while Mom was dying, “You know we all worshipped Dad, now it’s time to figure out a way to worship Mom.”

If she’s around, call her every Sunday…if not, then you’re with me bud.

Categories: Mentors · Moms