Golf Memories

I grew up in Mendocino and one of the activities my father enjoyed was playing golf. He couldn’t afford to play very often but when he did I would volunteer to go and play with him.

I never played very well but I always enjoyed the time we would spend and walking the course was always a great way to spend a day.

The course we had was at the Little River Inn. When we came around the ninth hole the majestic view was of the Pacific Ocean and the rugged coast line.

I think it was the only time that we had a conversation that wasn’t based around homework, the shortness of my skirt or some other mundane father/daughter conversation.

I always looked forward to those days. I was the only one who would play with him so I always felt it was our special time.

During my senior year I was frustrated in not being able to get any distance so I picked up the ball and threw it. It was the last day I played with my father. I found I could throw the ball father than I could hit it!