Thirty Year Old Clubbing

I went to see my father yesterday… He’s dead mind you- so I went to visit his final resting place. I had a moment just standing there… Talking to the air, asking for advice. Something I really needed. I brought with me a peace offering of sorts…

Besides the yearly beer, I also brought his golf club that I still had in my possession. The club was a “Big Bertha” that he had bought in 1991. Thirty years later, I still have the club. I was going to leave it behind yesterday at his grave, but I still use it at the driving range; and my son uses it on occasion as well. So it came home with me once more.

Funny thing… I also have my old man’s golf umbrella. Which I happened to use yesterday when I visited his grave. Rust patterns have emerged by the metal prongs against the fabric. Yet it is fully functional and kept me dry as I shared a beer with my father.

Sometimes it’s hard to get rid of things that remind you of someone who is no longer around. The thirty year old club and the umbrella (which is far older) mean something to me. I can’t part with the items just yet. Maybe in another thirty years…

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