Neighborhood Golf Outing #2...

Last week saw the second annual McCartyville area golf outing, a.k.a. "The Southenders vs. the Northenders vs. the Village People vs. the Featherfolks I, II, and III vs. the Eastringers."

If you remember last year's outing, there were only 3 teams, but word spread and since everyone had so much fun, things expanded greatly. This year, we added the Featherfolks teams and this worked out because all these guys are really on the west end of the village and not many of them were really very well known to the rest of us. The Eastringer team kinda stretched the idea of local residence, but all of those players are in the Rumley league and originally lived in McCartyville, so what the heck. The idea was to have fun.

My team, the Southenders, was defending its championship, but could only manage a 6-under par 66. That was four strokes better than last year, and seemed to be a response to the challenge of the Eastringers -- a team made up of one scratch player and three other pretty good golfers. But, alas, it was not enough. The Eastringers won on their first effort, shooting an 8-under 64.

The Village People managed to pull themselves out of the cellar (I think they were helped by a rule change for this year which allowed the seniors to hit from the senior tees). The "trophy" was taken home for the year by the Northenders who struggled to a +3 score of 75.

Final scores:
Eastringers (64).
Southenders (66).
Featherfolks #2 (69).
Featherfolks #3 (68).
Village People and Featherfolks #1 (71)
Northenders (75).

I guess the scores are not really important (unless yours is the bottom team). What is important is 28 neighborhood guys managed to get together for a fun afternoon of golf and fellowship. We also got to know each other a bit better. I expect we'll have at least two more teams next year and I think we'll also have some of the women teeing it up for an inaugural powder-puff outing.

Eighteen holes of match or medal play will teach you more about your neighbor than will 18 years of dealing with him across the back yard fence.

Hooah

Updating the landscape...

One of the things you learn quite early about living in the country is farmers grow crops and they almost always spray the fields with insecticides. Guess what -- the bugs figured that out too. So shortly after the fields are sprayed, like within a few hours or so, all those bugs leave and move in over at our house on the flowers, trees and the grass.

This year, they pretty much got our purple plum and the burning bushes out front. The guy at the nursery said the purple plum is susceptible to disease and will usually only last about 10 years or so. Hmmm ... let's see, we moved in in 1997 and planted in 1998 so it looks like we got to the "or so" part of its life. It really looks bare on that corner of the house right now. We planted a red bush that is supposed to get to a pretty decent size, and we'll do some other things there in the spring. But for now it looks quite different.

We decided to replace some things. In the process, we took out some things and discovered some local residents in the process. The little bunnies had been driving Pam crazy all spring eating the stems of the geraniums. We used a number of home-brew remedies to try to stop them (red pepper finally worked). Guess it got them to mating as opposed to eating. Anyway, there were three nests -- one in the lamb's ear, one in the sea grass and the one above. The first two took off when the guys started working. This guy must have thought he was safe since no one messed with the plant he chose to call home.

The burning bushes got the yank and were replaced by boxwoods. I really like them, they remind me of my time in D.C. Pam and I would visit the gardens at the National Cathedral on the weekends and they had real nice ones and they really smelled good.

You can see the new burning bushes over behind the birch trees. I think that will add a nice touch of color on that end of the house. We may also plant some ground flowers over there in the spring.

One of the things I have really come to enjoy in this thing called "retirement" is rocking in the chair on the porch, reading a good book, having Bailey lying at my feet, watching the birds (especially the hummingbirds) come and go, and seeing the butterflies battle the winds to get to the butterfly bushes. I like the deep red of the geraniums, the cool dark green of the grass, and the light leaves of the birches doing their dance in the breezes. I know those little bugs are still lurking, but it will be winter soon, and they'll get theirs...at least until next year when the cycle will start all over again.

The planting of things is the least self-centered thing we can do. It is a pure act of faith. We can't really control the outcome, and can only marginally influence the process ... kinda like raising a family. We can only plant and hope. I like this quote below..........

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy. Cares will drop off like autumn leaves. (John Muir)

Hooah

Celebrating our 40th...

I can't believe I'm writing this article -- not that I'm actually writing it, but that it's time to write it. Pam and I celebrated our 40th anniversary recently and I can't believe we have been together that long. I can honestly say time has flown. We first met in 1964 on the sand at Northside Beach in Zanesville. This was in high school. She was a hot chick from the big city school and I was a skinny, big-eared kid from the small Catholic school.

I can still remember our wedding, the reception and then leaving town for our honeymoon. We decided to go to a place my parents told us about -- a horse racing track in West "By God" Virginia.

Six hours after we started on what should have been a 2-3 hour trip, we got there. What a great start. Of course the dining room was closed (can't believe they close dining rooms at these places before 11:30 -- this is supposed to be a resort). The next day, we actually played golf there. Well, I played golf and Pam rode in the cart. Bet you can't guess what we did on our 40th ??? Yep, I played golf and Pam rode in the cart. Least this time, she didn't get hit with a ball while sitting in the cart.

In planning this trip, we took the advice of some friends of ours (Dave and Barb) and went to the Petoskey, Michigan area and booked rooms at the Bayview Inn. Online, it kinda looked like Bob Newhart's place, and I always liked that show, so what the heck. Besides, they had a great big lake (Lake Michigan) just outside the front door and Pam really likes water.

This turned out much better than our first trip. This place was supposed to be about 6 hours away, and I made it in 6 hours. See, I told you it was better. The first night there was a bit disappointing as the weather was pretty bad -- temps. in the 50s, big winds, and the front desk seemed to have forgotten the wine and roses I ordered ahead of time. Oh well, maybe they didn't remember what time I said we would be there and didn't want them to be wilted. The next morning, the weather improved, and the gal at the front desk assured me that the flowers and wine would be taken care of today. It was wine from their own winery and flowers from their own gardens, so I figured this was a easy fix...even if it was Saturday.

We spent the first day sightseeing, starting with an hour cruise on the Inn's boat. Actually, it was a small yacht-- a Chris-Craft, I think, that looked like it was built in the 20s and just got in from taking socialites on an outing. We toured Traverse Bay and got a little glimpse of how the very rich of the Chicago area live. They had boats that had more square feet in them than my house. Most of them never leave the pier, according to the yacht driver, who said about all they're used for is cocktail parties. When we finished that, we walked around Harbor Side for a while. One thing I learned while we were there was the difference between a sweatshirt and Beach Attire -- about $90.

It was now about 3:00 P.M. so we headed back to the Inn. You're right -- no wine or flowers. I now gave the desk girl my best angry Colonel scowls and was assured she would deliver tomorrow, even if she had to "sternly remind" the manager. Boy, I could hardly wait to see these results -- perhaps a roomful of flowers. We headed into town and did some window shopping, ate dinner at a really cool bar that had the best pizza and views of the bay (in fact, we ate there twice). Later, we walked along the beach and looked at some of the very nice beachfront houses. Everyone had an American flag flying from the porches and a flag from whatever college they went to or now supported.

The breakfasts were very good. I particularly liked the French toast with syrup and Michigan cherries. The Sunday buffet was very nice, and appeared to be the social event of the weekend. I told Pam that no town should be allowed to have more than 20 Jaguars in one place at one time. Earlier that morning, we went to a church that Pam had looked up on line before we left. She said it was a young church and it would be fun to see how others do their services. This was a good experience. It's neat to see how people can improvise, get the Word out and get the job done when no one cares what the surroundings might be.

I was positively giddy with anticipation after church and brunch because I couldn't wait to see what a whole room full of roses and wine looked like. Aw, you're too good, you're way ahead of me...yep, very underwhelming. The wine was a 12 oz. bottle that looked like a pop bottle, and the tray of sweets came from the buffet line, and the roses -- oh, wait there were no roses!!!!

Oh, well, it was time to head out to the golf course. 40 years ago, that race track course cost $6.00 and was a 9-hole, par-3 course jammed into a space about as big as two football fields. The course we were going to play (Little Traverse Bay) cost $75 and was worth every penny. It was one of the most beautiful courses I have ever played. The fairway-to-green elevation changes could be 200-300 ft. and proved to be a nice, fair challenge. On just about every hole, you had breathtaking views of the lake and the bay. I think I shot 100, but wasn't upset a bit. It was such a nice course and, besides, I had my bride of 40 years with me. Life is good!!

We went back to the Inn each evening and read quite a bit. No televisions in the rooms, and no phones. Pam and I actually got a couple of books finished. We played another course on Monday at Boyne Mountain. This one was very nice and a bit difficult too, but not as nice as Little Travers Bay. I played better the second day, so it was all good.

We hauled our bikes up there, because we thought it would be fun to just ride and explore the neighborhoods. This was one of the highlights of the trip. The houses were a beautiful Victorian- style architecture, and the gardens were beautiful. The bike paths took us to town and the harbor area where we watched people come and go, launching their boats. It seems the salmon were running and the lake fishing was getting hot.

So, all in all, it was an absolutely fantastic trip. Never did get the roses, but everything else at the Inn was beautiful and Dave and Barb's advice was spot on.

There's an old saying that goes something like this: Strike an average between what a couple thinks of each other a month before they're married and what they think of each other 40 or 50 years afterward, and you'll probably be pretty near knowing the truth about their marriage. We still have a few years to go, but I'd say we've had a pretty darn good one.

Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration continues to this day. (Gene Perret)

Hooah

So long, Danny...

Last week, I got word that another friend of mine, Sergeant-Major Danny Whitcomb, died after a long battle with cancer. I would be absolutely surprised if anyone who reads this, except for maybe a small handful of my Army friends, would have known him.

Danny was one of my Operations Sergeants-Major when I was the Executive Officer and later the Commander of the 391st MP Battalion. The OPNS SGM position is an extremely difficult one as this section is the hot spot of a tactical unit. I say difficult because the OPNS SGM is the second most senior Non-Commissioned Officer in the battalion, and often has to represent the commander in the field. He has to be organized, he has to be the second most absolute expert on MP doctrine, operations, and tactics in the unit, and he has to have the political savvy to exercise control even though he is not an officer and not the Command Sergeant Major. In his own unorthodox style, Danny was one of the absolute best at handling all of these duties that I have ever seen. He took the pressure head-on and diffused tense, combative situations with a sheepish smile and calming "aw- shucks" mannerism. The first time you would see him in action, you'd say to yourself - "who is this rube." Then when you watched him do his thing, you would wonder how the heck did he do that.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that Danny was also a qualified special forces Soldier. That had a lot to do with his effectiveness and professionalism.

Strange as it may sound, Soldiers sometimes get jobs for which they are not qualified. I've had lots of Sergeants-Majors work for me over the years -- some have been just outstanding tactical leaders, some have made their mark in how they handled personnel matters, and some (two in particular) have been absolutely terrible at all aspects of their job. SGM Whitcomb was one of those guys who had the complete package in all operational aspects, got Soldiers to do their job to the best of their ability, and made a mark on the officers (experienced and not-so-much-so) he served under.

I had lots of Danny Whitcomb stories and memories, but one that really stood out was the time he and I went to Ft. Bragg to represent our battalion at a retirement ceremony for the Brigade Commander of the 16th MP BDE (ABN). We were wartraced to them at that time and this retirement ceremony was a big deal because this was the first time a Reserve MP unit was directly linked to an active duty brigade, especially one so high-powered as the 16th. The Brigade was going to do a brigade jump (yep, from perfectly good airplanes) as part of the weekend's festivities. I told SGM Whitcomb that I was going to jump with them. Well, Danny gave me that sometimes goofy look he had when he heard something that bordered on being the absolutely dumbest thing he had heard a commissioned officer say, and then in a gentle voice said, "Uh, Sir, you haven't jumped from an airplane before have you?" I replied, "Well, no SGM, but it can't be that hard." That was the closest I have ever seen Danny come to doing a full-fledged imitation of SGM Plumley in the movie "We were Soldiers once, and young." He just looked at me and said "You ain't going, Sir" I knew that was the end of that, and even if I ever thought being a Major (at that time) and a battalion commander meant anything or had any pull, I quickly remembered how much clout and wisdom a Sergeant Major had. The rest of the weekend went just fine, thank you.

Danny and his wonderful wife, Judy, came to all of our battalion dinings-out (military dress-up parties) even when he was no longer a member of the unit. It was always a great time having them there. I'm sure she knew a lot about the man she married, but each time we had one of these get-togethers, I'm sure she learned a little more.

There is an old Irish proverb that goes something like this: "Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, and love leaves a memory no one can steal." Sergeant Major, Danny, my friend, you will be missed.

On thy grave the rain shall fall from the eyes of a grateful nation!

Hooah