Finishing hole

This is a photograph of the final hole at the Cypress Point Golf Club in Monterey, California. And, it was the scene of the climax of a book titled "The Match" by Mark Frost, (Hyperion 2007) . The book tells the story of six men, and how they came to compete and watch an historic day of golf a this place in 1956.

The players: Ben Hogan, Byron Nelson, (professional golfers), and Ken Venturi, Harvie Ward, (amateurs).

The match was set up as a sidelight to the Bing Crosby Pro-Am by Eddie Lowery, who made a bet on the proposition that his two amateur golfers could beat any two pros in a match play round. George Coleman took this bet, and the match was on, for the next day at 11AM at Cypress Point. The book is more than just the recapitulation of the play that day. The history of each man involved, the persons who dreamed, designed and constructed this golf course, and the result of play that day are all elegantly described and turned into a tale of utmost interest and sympathy.

This is a book for all who love golf, history, and irony.

The Metropolitan Opera, New York City

On January 3rd, little daughter and I travelled to New York in order to attend the production of Puccini's "La Rondine", (The Sparrow), at the Metropolitan Opera House in Lincoln Center. The featured performers were Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna. Ms. Gheorghiu was radiant in addition to her stupendous vocal power. The production was bright, charming, melodic, and the time and expense of attendance "so completely worth it" as noted by little daughter.

On this, my third exposure to the Met, I found the place more compelling than before. Let's go though it; red velvet wall covering; red velvet seat covering; crystal lighting fixtures that ascend to the ceiling just before the curtain; drinking fountains with paper cups; a bar on each level of the building; a fine dining restaurant open to those with tickets; sinuous staircases; a massive stage with a gold curtain; and the Met's truly wonderful orchestra. Add to this the talents of the vocal performers; the lighting + set decoration and beauty of the composition by Signor Puccini, and the Met adds up to the signal cultural institution in New York City. It is a palace of all the arts. Thank you, all who have anything to do with the Met.

While walking over to the Met, I encountered a celebrity, Hazel Mae, late of NESN Sportsdesk, etc. My daughter was with me at the time and probably allowed Hazel to be a bit more open a street meeting. She was quite warm and courteous to this fan, and agreed to stand for a photo before heading indoors for a hair appointment. You can see Hazel on MLB TV's Hot Stove show nightly, and probably much more often once baseball season opens.

(Blackberry Photo by Megan).

Christmas+The Longest Day of the Year

"So may I suggest the secret of Christmas

Is not the things you do on Christmas Day

But the Christmas things you do all year through."

The longest day has come and gone. Here in wonderland, the snow, ice and rain fell on our heads with delicious abandon, the kind of winter opening night we've come to know and love. This is that time of year when a plan to shop is one of the weekend's activities. Let's report on what gifts will make Christmas special this year:

1. 
   
   
   
   A pine scented candle in a metal container that will replace the tree- somewhat less of a fire hazard, I deduce. This is dubbed "christmas in a can."




2. 
   
   
   
   A reproduction painting in a large gilt frame; frame located at a tag sale; print from the esteemed Wadsworth Athanaeum.




3. 
   
   
   
   The gift of jewelry with a religous theme ,(destined for the neck of a young lady), that will ward off evil.




4. 
   
   
   
   Clothing that will ward off cold.




5. 
   
   
   
   Books that will ward off dunciness.




6. 
   
   
   
   Food.

A trip to Florida will happen in January. This is really enough to lighten the spirit and leaven the dark, long, cold days with a joy of anticipation totally unknown before early retirement set me free. However, all this joy is somewhat tempered by the passage of another year; one that saw both the ruination of the world economy, and the election of a multicultural, multiracial leader of our nation. God Speed!

Winter Weather

How to express my love for winter weather in Massachusetts...must I really write anything? After all, I am here; so is it; we are together; isn't that love?

Perhaps love is a bit more than that some may argue. Well, if you plan to argue that, have some ideas about exactly why this is so. I might respond by noting that a sure sign of "not love" is the absence of the object itself.

Consequently, does winter weather decide it does not 'love' me when it hikes out of here in April of each year?

Al Gore's ideas notwithstanding, this idea that winter will not return is certainly a sad thought. Why, here in Massachusetts we have had in recent forecasts cold, driving rain, high winds, rough seas (offshore, and not the metaphorical type), snow, lots of snow, and more driving rain, possibly ice, all mingling in the atmosphere around our beloved Bay State.

The effect of all this is momentous. It is possible now that the retired must postpone golf in that snow and frozen teeing areas are slippery, and dangerous. Parties in local restaurants will have the brio of the hardy adventurers who sally forth in the worst weather to get their people fix. The weather does not respect state lines.

Our intrepid governor avows that mobility of the populace in these shopping times is the priority for the state, funding for which is dependent on collecting sales tax from a mobile, consuming populace. Winter perils take many forms.

Speaking of governors; have you ever seen a more wintry hazing than that depicted in the photo on the left? I thought not.

I have read that Atty. Spitzer is now using his considerable fortune in acquisition of 'distressed' real estate assets. Good for him! Let's hope he stays busy.

Now time to take the vitamins. I hope your governor is working and is wise.

False fronts and other golf stories.

18th

My local country club contains 6,200 yards of undulating, sinuous, lush and verdant meadow that is a perfect representation of all the great and small things encountered in this life that are not what they seem to be. Yes, along the green and swelling fairways there are hillocks and raised putting surfaces containing 'false fronts' that cause one's golf shot to roll in the opposite direction of what was intended or needed as a result of a club swing. The hole locations on the greens are not usually a serious problem. The length of the grass in the rough is manageable. The issue is those damnable raised greens themselves, presenting their 'false fronts' that seem higher in altitude than the distant view one may get of a Boeing 747 on its glide path to Logan Airport, (many such Boeings can be spied by the alert strokesman while strolling on the local layout). These 'false fronts' mock us all and cause the improperly executed shot to end with a ball thudding into a raised, grassed, earthen wall, and then roll...backward. Back down the slope into a valley of divots, from which one may try to recover, but not for par. No, never for par.

On the matter of the local aircraft, in the early morning or in the late, lazy afternoon the low rumblings of the airport's winged citizens, their groanings heard from ten miles away over the harbor, make their intent clear to even the clueless. Take off is imminent, get out of the way.

In fact, this warning in this phrase applies should a fellow golfer be near me, whilst I am in the act of "swinging."

Here is our boy Woodsy, the World's Greatest Golfer, holding the trophy signifying his victory in the United States Open in June 2008. This championship was gained although WGG playedwith a leg fractured (by stress) in two places, and a ruptured ACL. While most of us would not arise in the morning should we have sustained such damage to any appendage of ours, i.e nose; or an encounter with a stray zit...Woodsy competes on the most challenging layout that the USGA can arrange, and then wins.

Although WGG is still better than anyone else when he plays with only one leg working at maximum warp speed, he has decided to rest and recuperate before he competes again, doubtless as a balm to the players who think that they may have a chance in competition with him. He beats them all with his leg broken, ergo, they don't.

Do you suppose that an injury to one's knee of this dimension is painful? A rhetorical question, dear reader.

On to a topic dear to my retired goal of a more structured diet, i.e. cooking food, not heating food someone else made. I and my bamboo skewers are partnering up for a delightful grill season. Among my other healthful retirement resolves are frequent trips to GNC after reading Men's Health magazine...stylin' new threads...weight lifting under the supervision of the aforementioned Delainey...cucumber salad...walking on the golf course...and declaring every day a holiday that calls for a drink...I think that is what A-Rod has been doing all his adult life...how's he doing, anyway?

Is A-Rod rich enough to get divorced? Two kids? Who is?

Come and go in a heated rush....

What's with this July heat? I have to put an icepack on my distinguished brow in order to sally forth into the noonday sun. This is New England, but, the current weather pattern has worn poorly, and a new cut of weather cloth is needed at this time. Like dry, sunny and a breeze. Make a note of it.

EarRe is now getting fitter than ever. There are ever expanding opportunities to exercise, play games, eat only healthy food, and pore over literature on the net that will lead to an old age of vim. Vim and vigor. Vigorous vimmery. Yes, I will call myself "the Vimmer" when, as and if I sicken of EarRe.



Helping out with this fitness binge is blonde Delaney, a personal trainer of a most unusual appellation. Names mean something in this life, (so says EarRe), so the source of this name will be traced. Normally, a name like Ann, or Kim, or Kate might be appended, but here, in the case of this personal trainer, Delaney was chosen. Inquiring minds want to know....

Not wanting to let the post out without an intriguing photo, please cast your (non-drooping) eye on Lucky Luciano, the last great gangster. Lucky is the source and inspiration for my use of "make a note of it" above, a phrase that an unremembered actor uttered in playing the role of Lucky in a 1930's film, also unremembered of title.



In 1929...a scant 79 years ago...

"Luciano was now at the top, a dandy dresser and well-known sport on Broadway. He looked menacing, however, thanks to a famous scarring he had received in 1929, when knife-wielding kidnappers severed the muscles in his right cheek, leaving him with an evil droop in his right eye".

I understand that his throat was also slit; yet he lived, ergo..............Lucky!

A Wonderful Feeling....

Sometimes the weather forecast and one's plans to recreate in the outdoors do not properly synchronize, i.e., an early tee time on a weekend morning + rainshowers, wind and hail beating on the roof.

This never happens to the retired.

We can always go...later. No longer slaves to the machine, recreation time to the retired is entirely cued to the weather, not the weekend.

For example, instead of looking glumly and hopelessly into a forecast weather pattern of precipitation, lightning, local downpours, etc., the retired gent can plan substitute activities and be assured that his golf game will be played when the next blue sky and yellow sun appear overhead. Not "next weekend." Not in the dark after a harried drive to the golf course after "work." Not after an uncomfortable lie to one's manager about a phantom "sales call" to a fictitious lead. Recreation can be had as God intended. At the proper time and place.

This goes as well for sailing, hiking, long car rides to seaside places with the top down on the Mercedes purchased with one's surplus, (read: unnecessary), social security payments. After a lifetime of prudent 401(k)investment in South African coal gasification projects, (which proceeds also allows this gent time share ownership of a nifty solar powered golf cart. Grass and sun; all very, very green. South Africa is very, very far away from my green life and style), money is no object.

And having all this money is a key point. For the retired, single, gentleman, with a face that is a cross between two pounds of halibut and an explosion in an old clothes closet, money is the great leveler.

This will be obvious to you as you read on...