It’s been a bit of a span since the last installation of my thoughts and wanderings… but I did mention I felt the need to get away. And that I did!
Angela and I hooked up the travel trailer and headed north for a trip through Oregon. Outside of Portland we camped near the base of Multnomath Falls. Having never photographed the falls we headed to the base for a spectacular view of the double falls that make up the sight. And of course there was the trail to the top…something my ego would not allow me to miss. I am no longer friends with my ego.
On the way up I my right knee convinced me that it has performed its lifelong duty…although I hope I have many more years left…good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise… and it painfully informed me that it is time for a total replacement. I kept hearing the words in the opening segment of the “Six Million Dollar Man”; “We can rebuild him. Make him better than he was. We have the technology.” But I do hope that it will not cost that much as my retirement income won’t quite come close to those payments.
The thought of the surgery and the recovery crept into my mind and I began to think I could put this off until later…much later…but each successive climb to the top of the numerous falls in the area repeated the same mantra from my knee, “Hey enough already!”
I have heard how wonderful it is going to be AFTER it is over. I figure after open heart surgery I can survive anything. And I’ve been told that I can go golfing without pain again. Oh joy…but the only real reason to golf besides driving a golf cart in the rain and doing donuts down the wet fairway…not me but I hear people do it…is to periodically have the roving 19th hole pull up and enjoy a Margarita. I never remember that happening when I was a caddy.
Whatever happened to caddies any way? You know the strong backed kid who would carry an over-sized bag filled with more clubs than necessary for a single round of golf or would ever be used in a life time of golf by ten golfers? Guess that made the weekend golfer feel like a pro or something.
By the time I was an adult and had to money to afford a caddies and a round of golf at the expensive courses where caddies used to earn their Bozo Bucks, the caddies were gone and my bag, with the regulation number of clubs, and I were carried around the golf course by an electric golf cart that cost more than a caddy ever would. Not only that, but the knowledge of the golf course that the caddies carried in their mind was lost to all except the pros. And riding in a cart not only increases the chances for your waist line to grow but the loss to the caddy’s knowledge increases the chance for you score to grow too…and well beyond the par for the course, and the opportunity for some kid willing to schlep around the course for as many golfers and as many times that he could in a day and earn an honest buck, were gone.
Maybe the government should write a law requiring golf courses to employ caddies again…that might help the unemployment stats for teens. But of course if they did the the number of Bozo Bucks earned would be reduced by the taxes that the caddies would have to pay.
How did I get here anyway?
Guess my mind still feels the need to get away and wander even though I just got back.