Written on 12-14-19.
I am in our computer room, and it’s a cloudy December day. We attended the funeral/life celebration of Kirk Carpenter’s wife earlier today. It was beautiful; she appeared to have lived a great life in her short 51 years. It hit close to home, because that’s how old young Belinda is. We are so fortunate and fragile, and I take none of it for granted.
We didn’t know her, had never met her, but we showed up to support Kirk, of course, one of the most resilient people I know. What he has had to put up with these past two years with the shooting at the high school, with deflecting the blame for what happened with a certain person, and with his wife’s illness and eventual death has been astounding. He has strength of character in endless reserve, although he wouldn’t say it. He’s a super example of a human being, and I am proud to say I know him.
On to golf…
We played yesterday at Pinon Hills, and it was so fun. I thought it was going to be a really chilly round (brrrrr), but after we got going at 12:50, our tee time, it was really pleasant. I even took off my sweatshirt for about nine holes in the middle of the round. The sun came out a few times, and I could feel the warmth on my face. Eric could not play again due to a tweaked back, but at least he got another invite. It was our usual golf threesome, and we finished right at dusk, just in time to see a vibrant, Bronco orange sunset from the parking lot.
I want to write about the incident that happened on hole #6, actually on a different day. It happened when Eric came out to join us for nine holes. Eric got the par to win the hole, which I did write about, but what I haven’t written about was what happened to Bruce, or rather, what Bruce did.
His tee shot came up short. We were playing from the teeing grounds that are down below this time around. We’ve been playing there more often recently. On this day, about five people were working on the landscaping around the picturesque rocks by the green. They were digging around the rocks, and making room for smaller gravel-type rocks. They had shovels, gloves on, and they had one guy on a tractor. We all teed off despite them working near the back of the green. They didn’t seem to mind…or even stop for us to play through. Bruce lined up for his second shot and let it go. It shot out sideways, though, and headed straight for the tractor. He shouted, “FORE!” but it happened so fast.
To be continued in the next post...
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