What They Say About Golf

• “I regard golf as an expensive way of playing marbles.” G. K. Chesterton

• “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” Mark Twain

• “I don't want to play golf. When I hit the ball, I want someone else to go chase it.” Rogers Hornsby (baseball player)

• “It's not hard to keep your ball in the fairway, so long as you're not picky about which fairway.” Unknown

• “The proper score for a businessman golfer is 90. If he is better than that he is neglecting his business. If he's worse, he's neglecting his golf.” St. Andrews Rotary Club Member

• “They say golf is like life, but don't believe them. Golf is more complicated than that.” Gardner Dickinson

• “If you drink, don't drive. Don't even putt.” Dean Martin

• “They call it golf because all the other four-letter words were taken.” Raymond Floyd

• “Although golf was originally restricted to wealthy, overweight Protestants, today it's open to anybody who owns hideous clothing.” Dave Berry

• “Sex and golf are two things you can enjoy even if you're not good at them.” Kevin Costner

• “Golf is a game in which you yell fore, shoot six, and write down five.” Paul Harvey

• “If a lot of people gripped a knife and fork the way they do a golf club, they'd starve to death.” Sam Snead

• “I know I'm getting better at golf because I'm hitting fewer spectators.” Gerald R. Ford

• “Why am I using a new putter? Because the last one didn't float too well.” Craig Stadler

• “It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. It took one afternoon on the golf course.” Hank Aaron

• “If you think it's hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball.” Jack Lemmon

• “Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an even smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose.” Winston Churchill

• “I have a tip that will take five strokes off anyone's golf game. It's called an eraser.” Arnold Palmer

• “Golf is like chasing a quinine pill around a cow pasture.” Winston Churchill

• “Golf, like measles, should be caught young, for if postponed to riper years, the results may be serious.” P G Wodehouse

• “It's good sportsmanship to not pick up lost golf balls while they are still rolling.” Mark Twain.

• “Golf gives you insight into human nature, your own as well as your opponent's. Grantland Rice

• My golf partner said I should yell “fore” before hitting the ball, not “twelve.” Actually, I was being overly optimistic that I'd get that infernal ball into the hole in twelve shots!

 

Disturbing Comments from Young Whippersnappers

A good friend of mine, a fellow senior citizen, is working at a sporting goods store. The other day he was somewhat irritated when a customer assumed he needed assistance in getting an item from a shelf. I understand. Similar irritating things have happened to me.

As a matter of fact, once I was assumed to be old when I wasn't. My son, who was about seven at the time, went with me to the grocery store. As we were checking out, the cashier said, “Oh, you have a very handsome grandson.”

Playing along, I told her: “Yes, he is. Every other weekend, except when my arthritis is acting up, I spend Saturdays with him so that his folks can have a break.”

“That's so nice of you,” she replied.

“Well, you know,” I continued, “at my age, I wear out easily, so his grandmother and I take turns playing with him. While one of us plays, the other sleeps.”

After we reached the parking lot, my boy said: “You are not my grandfather.”

“You're right, son,” I replied, “but she didn't know that.”

A couple years ago, as I began lifting sacks of groceries into a cart, a young man behind me asked if I needed assistance.

“No thank you,” I told him. “I stay in great shape by lifting my wife's purse ten times every morning.” Besides, with inflation, groceries worth $100 aren't nearly as heavy as those from 30 years ago.

When my wife turned 65, as usual, I made her a birthday card. In the card, I predicted things that would happen to her now that she was officially old. Among other events, I predicted the folks working at restaurants and other stores would begin calling her such names as “Sweetie” and “Dear.”

That very night, at my wife's favorite restaurant, the waitress came to our table, smiled at my better half, and asked, “What would you like to drink, Sweetie?” (When inquiring about the main course, the waitress asked my wife, “And the vegetable?” “He'll have the same thing I'm having,” she replied.)

We both snickered. It's a wonder the waitress didn't warn us not to laugh, for certainly at our advanced ages there was the possibility of wetting our pants!

I've had more than a few younger people think I must be deaf simply because I'm a senior citizen. With that said, it's rather irritating when someone talks very slowly and very loudly to me. Believe it or not, at this point I still do not need a hearing aid (Although my wife says I suffer from selective hearing. Well, I think that's what she said; I wasn't listening!)

My own son once got me! He asked if I had voted for Lincoln. “Of course not!” I loudly and quickly protested.

“So, you're a Democrat?” the little wise-acre asked.

However, a few days ago I did get some positive feedback at the local liquor store. Before the clerk would sell me a bottle of whiskey, he insisted upon seeing proof that I was of age. I thanked him profusely and offered him a twenty-dollar tip!

I believe it was the late comedian Jack Benny who said that age is just mind over matter, for if you don't mind, it really doesn't matter.

I try to keep that in mind whenever some “young whippersnapper” indicates that I'm somehow feeble with one foot on a banana peel and the other one already in the grave. It's important to remember that in most cases those folks are simply trying to be kind and helpful, so just smile and keep chugging along at whatever pace you can muster.

Catitude

For years veterinarians and other animal “experts” believed dogs to be much more intelligent than cats. Observing both species, they saw how relatively easy it is to train a dog. On the other hand, although not impossible, training a cat to roll over or play dead is a much more difficult process.

Unfortunately, those learned men and women were not taking into account what I call “catitude.” You see, cats and dogs have radically different personalities and therefore see the world through a different lens.

Dogs are descended from pack animals. No doubt your hound sees you as nothing more than a giant fellow dog who is the leader of his pack. He or she wants nothing more than to please its leader.

In human terms, your dog might be thinking: “Gee, I will do anything to please my master. When he's happy, I'm happy. If she wants me to beg, then I'll do so. My entire life centers around making my leader happy. That's what I was born to do!”

Any person who has ever owned a cat knows that felines do not act in such a manner. If they could speak English, they might comment: “Hey, I like this dude, but I'm not giving up my independence to make her happy. If he wants to see someone roll over and play dead, then I suggest he does that stunt himself, for I have better things to do, such as sunbathing, watching birds, and knocking objects to the floor.”

Are animals capable of something approximating human love? Yes, both dogs and cats have shown some form of affection for their owners. There have been cases, for example, where dogs would sit on their owners' graves as if they were mourning their loss. That certainly looks like some kind of love or affection, at least from a human perspective.

My oldest cat, Kelly, who is now 15, spends almost every night in bed with me, wedged between my right arm and my body. As a result, I spent many nights staring at the ceiling because I did not want to disturb him by rolling onto my side.

Our female cat, Annie, spends every evening on my wife's lap as we watch TV or read. She “makes bread dough” before settling down to purr and then to sleep.

Dogs live to please their humans. Cats live to please themselves. In other words, the more independent-minded cat, in one sense, is more evolved than the dog, for the cat is a much more independent thinker. No doubt our political leaders prefer us to be in eternal dog mode.

Some folks still argue that dogs must be smarter than cats because they have bigger brains Well, supposedly human beings are the smartest creatures on the planet, although you would never guess that from watching the nightly news. Yet, whales, dolphins, and elephants have bigger brains than we do. Furthermore, consider this: Members of Congress have fairly large brains, but that doesn't always seem to translate into thoughtful and enlightened lawmaking. Just saying.

In every family I've seen that has a dog and a cat, it is the feline who rules the roost. Even if the dog is much larger than the cat, the feline has the equalizer-razor-sharp front claws. If the dog messes where he shouldn't, he'll receive a bloody nose and multiple scratches for his efforts. That's pretty smart on the cat's part.

In the final analysis, it doesn't really matter which of the two species is more intelligent. As any animal lover can tell you, both dogs and cats brighten our lives and leave us with great memories. Unlike many human beings, our pets are there for us whether we are rich or poor, popular or castigated, handsome or not so much so. That's the best kind of friendship to have.

Surprisingly, Pizza is Pretty Good!

We were a “meat and potatoes” family. Mom served us the same kinds of basic food that she had eaten during her childhood years. As a result, although I had heard of this strange thing called “pizza pie,” I'd never tasted, smelled, or even seen one. That is, not until we visited some distant relatives.

When lunchtime rolled around, one of their older boys was sent to pick up one of those strange Italian dishes. Upon opening the box, we smelled what seemed like hot, steaming vomit. Needless to say, all my family members suddenly lost their appetites.

That stuff was so gross that the king of the house, otherwise known as “Dad,” decreed that no pizza was allowed in his home. Evidently, at a later time, someone, perhaps my aunt, made pizza for Mom, and lo and behold, she liked it! After that, she began smuggling Chef Boyardee pizza kits into the house.

Mom hid these boxes behind a bunch of soup cans because if Dad had discovered them there would have been heck to pay. Since Dad worked on Saturdays, that is the time Mom usually made us pizza. To the basic ingredients she added sausage, hamburger, and sometimes some onions. Those pizzas were actually pretty good.

Still, I equated a store-bought, ready-made pizza with that foul-smelling one we encountered several years earlier. Therefore, I dreaded the day when I would be forced to eat one of them.

When I began attending junior high school I was still avoiding store-bought pizza. However, all that changed on a cold winter's night. A friend had invited me to a high school basketball game. After the contest, he suggested we go to the most popular pizzeria in town.

Although outwardly calm, inside I was a mess. Just one good smell of that pizza and surely I'd barf all over the table! For the first time in my life, I prayed for a severe cold and nasal congestion to quickly overtake me. If I couldn't smell it, perhaps I could nibble on a piece or two.

Surprisingly, this pizza smelled wonderful! After devouring one piece I was forever hooked. That earlier, foul-smelling pizza was about as much like this pizza as my basketball skills are to those of LeBron James.

Dad, however, continued his ban on pizza. After my sister was married, she and her husband briefly lived with our parents. One night, after the old folks had turned in, we three decided to order a pizza. After my sister made the phone call from the basement, her husband and I pushed his car about a half block from the house before starting it.

Upon our return, after we had eaten the pizza, we realized there was a problem. If we put the pizza box in the trash Mom would see it and begin questioning us. If Dad overheard the conversation, our goose would be cooked, so to speak. Therefore, we stuffed the empty box into the next-door neighbors' trash can.

A few weeks later, after Mom and Dad left to visit some friends, we ordered another pizza. We had hardly begun to eat it when the old folks prematurely returned. Thinking quickly, my sister shoved the pizza into a nearby closet. Mom must have been a bloodhound in a previous life because upon entering the room, she proclaimed “I smell pizza!” and began sniffing here and there. Somehow, my sister finally was able to convince Mom that she was imagining things.

After Dad and Mom went to bed, we waited about fifteen minutes before taking the pizza to the alley by the backyard. After eating it, we once again deposited the box into the neighbors' trash can. Upon its discovery, perhaps the neighbors believed they actually had ordered and eaten a pizza but had somehow forgotten about it.

As you can see, we younger folks had certainly turned into pizza lovers. As for Dad, I don't know if he ever tasted pizza. One thing is for certain; pizza around here is far superior to that rotten-smelling stuff served to us by relatives so many years ago.