Dear Jim: Nobody cares.

Dear Jim: You used to care…I miss that.

 

Have you noticed that no one cares anymore?

 It seems that Whining has lost its ability to find empathy with friends and family. Can’t figure it.

 

Take golf for example.

Me: “My game is terrible. I am having a terrible time. Can’t seem to fix anything.”

Partner: You won’t believe I shot an 84 yesterday. Hit my drives a mile and let me tell you about my chip in on 17…”

 

Me: “All my short puts seem to be going to the right.”

Partner:” Did you get the score card from the starter?”

 

Me: “My left arm just fell off.”

Partner: “Want me to drive the cart?”

 

Not to say I am innocent. One of my golf partners has neck vertebrae that are kaput. He solemnly gave me the news last week.

I told him to not turn his head when I’m putting because the clicking noise will throw me off.

 

Now, I am dealing with some potentially serious medical issues.

 

 My eyesight has deteriorated quite a bit in the past year. After all the tests etc. I’m told there is nothing that can be done…too bad…so sad.

 

So, I go to Dr Google and discover that there is a magnifying glass that you keep on your head and swing it around when you need to see something.

 

I explained this to my son with fear in my voice.

He said: Dad, I promise you we will get you the best magnifying glass they make.”

 

I then went downstairs and told Sally about this frightening turn of events.

She looked at me and said: Do you want meatballs with your pasta sauce tonight or would you like it just plain?”

 

It seems I am going to have to go to my doctor to get a paper signed for my driver licence renewal. Besides failing vision, my hearing isn’t what it used to be and my doctor thinks being able to hear a train whistle is important.

 

Doctor:” Good morning, what can I do for you today.

Me:” What?I beg your pardon….

I’m doomed.

 

Me losing my driver’s licence for being deaf and having fuzzy vision will make a few people sit up and take notice.

 

Yes, it is true I miss a few stop signs and pesky red lights and staying within those lane markers is requiring more skill than I am used too but I still get from A to B. My passengers aren’t as relaxed at the end of the journey but if they want to drive, they could take their own car.

 

I will have to register Sally as an Uber driver for income splitting purposes. And she won’t like it much. I have places to go, people to do and things to meet… every day.

This won’t end well.

 

So, there you have it. I hope things stabilize but, I am going to interview 75-pound German Shepard’s in case I need a new friend. Ooh, rats,  I hate dogs.

 

Moral of this letter, Jim, is that you may as well say nothing and drop dead quietly when it is your turn.

People will say: “You know Bill never complained…amazing.

 

Missing you

 

Bill Meder

Billmeder.blogspot.com

 

Regards,

Bill  

 Dear Jim: A depressing report.

 

Normally I don’t give an early season report on Golf but since I will probably be quitting soon, I thought I should get this off to you now.

Now in the off chance that you and your buddies wherever you hang out up there are screwing with my game for giggles you need to back off…NOW.

 

My swing is gone. I am so embarrassed I had to drop out of a great Wednesday afternoon group since I didn’t want the pity that I knew they would feel if I joined them.

 

I have had a lesson. The instructor said I could have a follow-up, but he would have to wear a mask. I told him Covid on the golf course is a non-issue.

 

“Oh, I don’t mean a medical mask I meant a hood with eye holes so no one would know who was teaching you.”

This wasn’t funny but he was serious. Apparently, the pro shop has my picture in the back office with a “do not engage” warning on it.

 

I spent a few hours on Youtube Monday morning on getting out of sand traps.

Six different instructors with six totally different approaches on every aspect.

All of them worked…. for them. Easy Peasy.

 

So off I went this morning and planted myself and 50 balls in the practice trap.

 

First drill was to hit only the sand with no ball in front of you. After a few minutes of this I had so much sand in my shoes and hair that I couldn’t see straight.

 

Moving on to hitting with a balI, I used all the tips the Youtube bozos showed me.

 When I finally got one ball on the green, I was sweating so hard that I thought I would faint from dehydration.

The balls that I skulled 50 yards are gone forever and the one’s I hit 18 inches are probably not reusable. Sorry.

 

This is a work in progress.

 

I have decided to remove my driver from the bag. It goes the same distance as my 8 iron so why carry two clubs that give you the same distance?

 

My slightly over the top swing is now a serious of two or three separate and uncoordinated pieces (not sure because I can’t see or feel what I’m doing).

 

The bad news is that I’m losing balls so often that I’m having trouble keeping the bag stocked enough for a complete round.

The reason for the lost balls is that none of the people I’m playing with will watch my shot for fear they will become infected with whatever virus is in my brain.

I often turn and say, “did anyone see where that went”. The answer is always “we will drive down the left side of the fairway and you go down the right. We have no idea where it went.”

 

So, you get the idea. Now on Saturday I’m playing in a tournament where 8 randomly chosen members team up and play as a team. Sounds like a 3-ring circus, right?

 

Well, all I know for sure is that after that game there will be 7 more people that I can’t look in the eye at Royal Montreal.

 

There will have to be some ground rules.

No swearing…..at me!

No laughing, no picture taking, no talking with comments like “don’t worry Bill it will come back.”

Coming from strangers this is not helpful. I assume we are paired male/female with someone I probably don’t know.  So, the humiliation will be complete. Don’t ask me why we are doing this, but I was told it wasn’t optional.

 

Next week could be my last week of golf, not for the season, forever!

 

I will keep you posted.

 

 

 

Bill Meder

 Dear Jim: Ok ,back in the groove

 

It has almost been a year since you died and so far no contact with you from wherever you told me you were going. As a result I have not bothered to write a Dear Jim letter but demand has been increasing so pay attention.

 

People always ask you how your winter was: Well here’s the story,.

During the winter every friend, acquaintance and some  people we don’t particularly care for, go  South for the season. That leaves Sally and I alone with almost nobody to play with.

 

To escape in January , we went to Barbados for a couple of weeks on the Beach.

Once again all alone, just the two of us , no one else , just 56 years of marriage. Together, every moment, 42 meals staring in to each others eyes. Got the picture?

Now I am fully trained but there are very few fine points that need tuning every now and then. After the first week these items are cleared away and our conversation from there is fairly short.

“Hurry up, what are you doing, I’m going for a walk on the beach, I need a drink, Oh for Christ’s sakes relax,  etc etc. “

By the 12^th day I’m calling Air Canada to see how much it would cost to change our ticket home.

Day 14 can’t come soon enough and we are at the airport 4 hours before departure to make sure nothing will stop us from making that flight. So that is January.

 

During February I spend most of my free time trying to decide where to go in February. This is an impossible task and before you know it, March has arrived. Now it is March Break and going somewhere makes no sense which brings us to April. Well Ok Then, snow gone, golf club starting to look inviting, days lengthening and decision is made to go to Florida Next year and le voila winter’s over and golf season looms large.

 

So today was opening day at the golf club and I didn’t make any effort to register. I did however go out to the club, changed into my golf clothes, shoes and all and walked around the 19^th hole pretending that I was there to play. Talked to a lot of nice people and everyone told me to play well. If I had had to play 18 holes I would have needed an ambulance to take me home.

 

I haven’t hit a ball for months so I went out to hit a couple…and I mean a couple.

My first swing, had I made it during the event, might have  caused pieces of my body to break off and would have been very embarrassing.

I realized I have to change my warm up this year.

For example I will not be able to practice with my Driver this year  because every time I bent down to tee up another ball it was 15-20 seconds before my dizzy spell subsided.

I think passing out on the range might elicit gossip about me that I would be uncomfortable dealing with so the Driver stays in the bag.

Hard to believe you can get a blister on your right hand by only hitting 20.. 8 irons.

Could be my grip which has gotten quite tight as I fight off a wonderful Shank that appears out of nowhere every second shot.

 You get the picture. I am ready to roll for 2023 and will keep you up to date as I continue to improve. Golf is my Life.

 

Regards,

Bill 

And another thing

 Dear Jim:

 

Well let me try again. Perhaps your sister (the NUN..true) can get this letter to you with her connections.

 

In answer to my health and general well-being I can report that my deterioration is progressing at an aggressive pace.

 

 My doctor informs me that the extra 10 years of life that I should expect from not smoking, no drinking, lots of exercise, 10 hours nightly sleep and weight control are over.

Congratulations!

 And I’m now on the same life expectancy schedule as the Overweight, heavy smoking, big drinking insomniacs.

 

I find I need to change a few of my habits.

 

 For example, I used to put on my socks standing on one foot and deftly pullng on a sock with both hands.

Lately, I find I tend to lose my balance and careen across the room either falling outright or ploughing into a dresser or whatever.

Now if this continues, I could face serious injury or death.

Imagine an OBIT that says ..” Bill Meder died this morning of blunt force trauma while putting on his socks.”

 Humiliating right?

 

I am having problems with my memory. Not losing it. Just the opposite. Digital quality recall of everything back to 4 years old. This is a painful and depressing  problem.

 

I remember clearly playing squash every day and sometimes twice for 45 minutes each game. I tried to warm up in a court a while ago and after the warmup I went straight home for a snooze.

 

I remember riding my bike for one hour after work around the end of the island. Seldom missed a day. I just sold my bike because I kept falling off sideways when my feet got stuck in the pedals. Ouch.

 

I remember when I could carry my golf bag for 18 holes. Now I need help lifting the bag on to the cart.

 

I remember loving to ski for hours even when it was minus 25F. I can’t go skiing anymore because I’m afraid of getting my nose cold.

 

I remember quite fondly the frosty martini glass with the twist of lemon moving across the room towards me. Now it’s “will that be flat or sparkling”. Terrible, no?

 

I remember hitting from the white tees, looking longingly at the blues.

Now I hit from the red tees looking longingly at the Ladies yellow tees. Brutal.

 

I used to drive at high speed, steering with my knee while I typed a lengthy text.

I now drive very slow with both hands tightly gripping the wheel praying that I won’t blow by a stop sign or red light and kill myself or someone else.

I will probably stop driving either by losing my licence or death. It’s 50/50

 

I could go on, but you get it.

 

Running, jumping, bobbing, weaving, twisting, twirling, leaping, agile, fast, quick, alert, motor skills etc. etc. can nevermore be used in a sentence that begins with Bill. Depressing right?

 

Now I’m not complaining. Just reporting. In the future I will write to you about all the things I’m still good at if anything comes to mind.