A Good Message From The Grave

It was a compliment, really, from a man I barely knew. Through his widow, the message came.

Though I’ve only met him twice, I sent flowers and message of sympathies to his widow who had been a good client of mine. A few days later, I got a text from her thanking me for the gesture. She added he had been sharing my story as an example to others of how I beat my heart trouble by going vegan after my angioplasty. 

I made an impression! A good one at that. Yep, sweep modesty under that rug, it made my day. In fact, I still carry that good feeling all around.

I’ve given many talks and have written mediocre articles on subjects spanning from peanuts to Pluto but I can only make wild assumptions about the impact my words had on those who heard or read them. Did they give a second thought? Did they laugh at the jokes? Did they straight up dismiss and disregard?

I never expect much.

But this time, the noise of those mental questions seemed drowned by the message. The real message was that I do matter. Maybe not all the time. But sometimes. 

That’s good enough for me. Thanks, buddy. God rest you.

I raise this cup to you.

Cheers!

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It Doesn’t Rain on Golf Courses

Even prior to knowing the rules of the game, I’ve heard this adage many, many times over: rain doesn’t fall on golf courses. Do the heavens play favorites on tigers, bears and sharks? We are putting this one to the test.

With #TyphoonPaeng still hovering above most of the metro, three of us booked ourselves a flight at the Air Force Golf Club in Clark, Pampanga. Already, it was drizzling early morning as we load our bags into the trunk of the car. We were unfazed. In the place we’re going to be, it doesn’t rain. 

In the expressway, it rained. Windshield wipers had to be employed to see the road ahead. But what concern is it for us? Our destination knows no rainfall. 

By the time we arrived at the club, and as expected, there was no rain. We were all smiling from one ear to the other person’s ear. These half-witted golfers believe in fairy tales. We were like little boys hopping in a toy store. This day was going to be a blast, we dreamed.

A bit of drizzle here and precipitation there in the front nine were by no means categorized as rain. So they were allowed. A meteorologist who was teeing off ahead of us agreed with this.  

Our caddies brought out our umbrellas for, you know, when the sun gets too hot. Playing it safe. Yep.

The winds blew wild. There was a downpour (er, not rain). Our shirts and shorts, and shoes were all wet -dripping wet by the end of the front nine. It must have been our sweat glands working extra hard that day.

By the 14th tee, balls were rolling just a few inches off wet, wet fairways and greens. And finally, after the 15th tee, we had to call it.

What happened that day may have been one of these:

       We perspired too much;

       Flooding was caused by a nearby dam bursting off strong;

       Santa Claus came to town.

Take your pick.

One thing mighty certain, though: it didn’t rain. Because it never rains on golf courses. I rest my golf case.

I had a little extra time to enjoy this cup that day.

Cheers!

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