A gift from Heaven

Dear Jim:

I’m reading the paper the other day and I see that the Liberals are releasing millions of dollars for Infrastructure projects. Seems our assets are deteriorating badly and once strong structures are crumbling

​ and require immediate repair​

.  I look across the breakfast table and I realize they are talking about us!

​Inspired, 

I decided then and there to begin a reconstruction project  of my own.

First up, Sally needs a new hip.  A five year plan with other features and functionality requiring serious work could wait. This was urgent.

The hip had been getting worse for several months and Sally wasn’t handling it all that well.

The moaning and groaning at night was making it hard for me to concentrate on the TV and the time she was taking to get in and out of the car was really starting to annoy me.

There was a safety issue as well. I almost ran her down three times when she didn’t clear the front of the car fast enough when I dropped her off. I was starting to think that if this continued, even though I would really miss her a lot, something bad was eventually going to happen.

We tried the Public Hospital system and with a strong push by very influential people I was able to get the promise of an initial meeting with a doctor sometime this  year. Waiting time was 12-18 months for the actual operation.

Here is where you have proof positive that there must be a higher power looking over me.

I have been under considerable stress wondering what to get Sally for our 50^thanniversary. She made it clear that she wanted something that she didn’t already have one of and it had to be unique.

Well le voila,  what beats a new hip?

And after getting her all set up at a private clinic  which took one week from initial meeting to operation, I discover that I can accessorize the new hip with a fabulous cane and a walker with white wall tires. That takes care of XMAS and Birthday as well. Who knew? All my problems solved at once.

The operation was a huge success and she comes home tomorrow morning after 5 days in the Clinic.

It is a good thing too because she has really got behind in her household responsibilities. It shouldn’t take her long to get caught up and to show I’m sensitive I have booked the cleaning lady for an extra hour on Wednesday.

I did a good job in her absence while she lay around enjoying the serenity of the Clinic.

The cat is still alive. Several of the flowers look like they might make it and while the refrigerator is absolutely empty she should be able to get stocked up with a few visits to Metro.

I couldn’t cook anything here because the dishwasher is full so that is her first order of the day  when I bring her home in the morning.

All in all, a great outcome for Sally and especially me! Life is good!

I will keep you posted on our next project.

Bill Meder

Another year down the drain

Dear Jim: Another year down the drain

You are wondering why I haven’t written for some time and the answer is very simple. Nothing has happened except I got older and can’t believe that I’m still alive at this age. Now here we are at the end of the season and I only have a few trivial observations. Oh, and did I mention that I did get a lot older.

We have 1600 members in the club. I used to know many of them. Now I can address about 14 by first name and last name. Another 15, I guess at their first name and usually get it right. Another 25 or so I would recognize at a Loblaw’s but I wouldn’t say hello.maybe a nod.  

That’s it. I describe Royal as a very small intimate club surrounded by a very large bunch of “ I have no idea who they are”.

Where did everyone come from? And they all seem so engaged and friendly. …buzzing around with big smiles on their face. Don’t they realize that playing golf doesn’t make you smile? They must be new.

I used to describe our Tournament participation and how well we were doing. At most of the club tournaments I not only didn’t recognize the winners I couldn’t pronounce many of the names.

 At any rate I think that in a couple of more years like this I will only know the three people I now regularly play golf with and it will be a good time to retire from the club completely.

At the beginning of the season, many of us bought four dozen Pro V golf balls with our names on them. If you are like me those 48 beauties are long gone. Some in the water to be sure but many in the woods. Also in my case, since no one watches my swing when I drive and either is flinching or have their eyes shut, my drive could be anywhere. I can’t see where it went because I’m busy trying to regain my balance. It could be in the fairway for all I know. So other golfers have picked up those balls over the past months.

Now here is the skill-testing question. How many of you have had someone put a ball with your name on it in your locker, having found it somewhere out on the course?

It has your name on it. Are they playing with it? Is this the conversation that is happening all over the courses?  “ Is that my ball or yours….It says Irving Azoff on both sides….ok , thanks that’s what I’m playing today.”

The answer is Zero. In other words of the 3,000 or so monogramed balls that went out in June, not one has been returned to the person named in big bold letters on the ball.  

Just FYI I once had a ball that I lost in Barbados dropped in my mailbox in Beaconsfield by someone who had found it and realized that returning it was the right thing to do.

I used to write you about the annual visit of my Grandchildren who came for a couple of weeks during prime time. I have successfully got that down to a 5 day visit (including arrival and departure days) and now I barely know they have been here.  So, Perfect!...nothing to report on that front.

Another favorite subject was couples golf. Well now I am down to 9 holes on Sunday with Sally. I try and arrange to play the Red course because hole number 7 finishes right beside the bag shop and usually I can convince her to call it a day. I finally gave up trying to play with another couple on Sundays when more than once I was told by the Spouse that they were embarrassed for me when we played together. Who needs it?

Our Club has a lot of activity. On most days you can barely find a parking spot due to some Corporate day or Charity event. Now, some members complain about this. Not me. This is a great excuse not to play without feeling guilty that you aren’t out there on a beautiful day.  Lets do more of this. And rain…we need more rain. I didn’t have one game cancelled because of rain during the entire summer.

I hit some good shots this year. I remember them all.  I did have one bad experience when I hit my 4 wood with such force that the shaft shattered and the head attached to a spear-like shaft with ragged edges flew over my head and almost killed my partner who was 20 feet behind me and off to the side. If he had been hit and bled out because an artery was severed this would have made a great bar story but no. a miss is as good as a mile so nothing  interesting to say about my only abnormal day. I did tell people that we couldn’t find the ball so I took a 5 which I needed to complete a good round and everyone was OK with that.

And finally, today I watched a member who is in his mid 80’s practicing his putting. He missed every second try from four feet. He confirmed to me that he has been practicing this technique for 60 years! What kind of madness is this? I’m smarter than that and I am going to let the game beat me, cry uncle and enjoy the remaining years. So no more golf stories.

That’s it and that’s all!

Bill Meder

Not for Women

Dear Jim:

So when God was putting the finishing touches on the Universe he called together his planning team.  “ Everything seems to be settled but I would like  suggestions on how I  would be able  to mess with Men as a form of  amusement when I become bored.”

“How about playing golf with your Spouse”? was suggested by one of the nastier members of the group.”

Here is a way to cause mind numbing pain and internal panic while crushing the ability to speak in coherent sentences. All in a way  that wouldn’t be visible to the Spouse. What a perfect way to take people who look happy and normal on the outside and mess with them.

“I like it, said God!”

“What about those  really annoying do-gooder types that are always talking about how much they like playing with their Spouses.”?

“They may be beyond my reach as they clearly are defective in a fundamental way. Perhaps we could work on quality control in the Sperm and Egg department and try and weed these misfits out right from the get go.”

Or we can let them escalate to a game with two Spouses and two  Men. If that doesn’t do it we will just  activate the “Bozo” chip and remove them from the mainstream.   People will feel sorry for them.

Why do I bring this up? Well one safety tip I have for you as you start to work less is to never come home before 5pm…even if you have nothing to do. Take a couple of extra circuits around the shopping mall to kill time or whatever but don’t come home early. I made that mistake today.

“Lets go and play 9 holes this afternoon”. “Oh Goody, Goody says I and off we go”.

Today Sally decides she is going to test-drive the Power Kaddy which all of her friends swear by and she has been bugging me to get one. This means she can walk and not have to worry about pushing the cart.

I didn’t ask any questions and I assumed everything was going well although on the first hole I didn’t see what she was doing as I was off to the left hitting 5 different trees with 5 separate shots. This isn’t as easy to do as you might think. I should have put some attention to the instructions.

A little known fact is that the Power Kiddy has a top speed of 8 km/hour if you press the “go” button and let go of the handle.

Sally’s top running speed is 7.9km/hr.

I know this because on the par 5 second hole the cart suddenly took off with Sally in hot pursuit.  I have never seen her run like that. It was an Olympian performance. Nearly 600 yards further up the fairway  the cart finally hit a sand trap near the green and tipped over with the wheels continuing to spin. I continued to play the hole (had a bogey) and I finally arrived to find Sally in a bath of perspiration gasping for air.

Here’s where my big mouth  got me in trouble.

I said “I’m going to have to give you a maximum on this hole because  your initial drive is back  there about 450 yards and you never hit it a second time.”

“What the heck were you thinking?”

Well actually I’m thinking it is a real shame that I don’t have my phone with me because if I had recorded that chase it would be going viral by now.

And I’m also thinking it may have appeared reckless for me to keep playing while the chase was on but the two four woods that I hit were certainly high enough to clear Sally by a good three feet or more. 

A real bonus is that I’m not going to have to spend $1600 on a Power Kaddy although treatment for Sally’s pysio therapy may come to the same thing.

I wasn’t going to waste my great drive on that hole to go running down the fairway!

My thinking apparently was not appreciated as much as I would have thought.

Our 9 holes now became 6 holes and a little over an hour after teeing off we were in the car heading home. It is amazing how quickly you play when there is no conversation to slow you down.

It is clear I’m not good at this Spousal Golf stuff and women in general.  I’m leafing my way through the Quran where I hear there are a lot of good tips on how to handle women. Hopefully there will be a section on Golfing. I will let you know if something turns up.

Bill Meder

A little late but here we go

Dear Jim:

Well, I have been getting so much flack from everyone for not writing you for some time I figured I better get at it.

I haven’t written for a while as I have had to swear to people I’m golfing with that I won’t write a letter about our game since people might figure out who they are and they might get embarrassed.

I’ve saved up some beauties and when you do my Eulogy you will be given the secret writings to pass on at the Ceremony if anyone is there.

I have not been active on the Golf front as I screwed up my back 5 weeks ago.  I would like to tell you I threw it out while Cliff diving in my new Batman suit but actually it was less dramatic than that.

 I was sitting on the floor and decided to move forward 3 inches. In doing so I initiated a firing up of the entire spinal system and ligaments designed to motor this old body through anything that pops up. As dumb as this system is through poor design and maintenance I  brought forth a twisting knife blade sensation in the lower back that knocked me over.

I crawled upstairs on my hands and knees and after a lot of mind-altering drugs

( some of which I have become very fond of) I was able to sit up and watch TV.  Whoever was responsible for designing the Back System way back when is definitely living in Hell forever and deservedly so.

This is now 5 weeks later and I have just begun the Golf season.

So last weekend off I go with my dear wife ,Sally to play 9 holes on the Dixie course, which is for kids, and over 80’s driving special carts.

After the second hole she decided to give me advice, which I’m always looking forward to both on and off the course. 

“I think the trick is to hit the ball as few times as possible” she offered.

Well wholly molly who knew?

 Clearly that $25,000 for lessons did not go to waste.  I countered that this was a good idea and I would do my best.

The little morsels of wisdom kept coming for 9 holes. Since she now outdrives me and usually has a lower score than me I didn’t think I could say much.

So no more 9 holers for me. I’m busy if asked.

Yesterday was a return to Couples Golf, which I am particularly excited about as a uniquely  mind numbing activity. I don’t know why I find it the way I find it. Perhaps it’s the conversation during the round. You can't help thinking..Where is Johnny Miller when we need him?

The putt is 15 feet short of the hole.

Player A says “That’s Short”

Player B says, “You have to hit it”

Player C says, “This is a tough hole

I’m thinking, “just shoot me now”

On to the next Tee

Player A says, “I hooked it”

Player B says, “It went left”

Player C says, “It will play from there”

I’m thinking, “There is no way I’m going in to the bush to look for that ball…I’ll just hang back here a bit.”

Putts that are close are met with OOOOO’s and AHHHHH’s and if you close your eyes you would swear you were at  a performance of Swan Lake at Place Des Arts.

Putts that are looking to cause a 7,8 or 9 on the card are quickly given with the backhand swat of the putter…”That’s Good”

After a few hours of this  I look at my scorecard and realize we still have 5 holes to go. Will this never end?  I love a 5-hour round. So many more opportunities to enjoy the sun set.

There is a special clock for Couples golf. Each hour gets you a debit of 90 minutes on your life clock so you want to keep this activity to a minimum. And if it seems like you have been playing forever…you have!

I always enjoy finishing up with the 20 minute shower.  After being in the hot summer afternoon it takes steel wool and a wire brush to get the 60 SPF sun tan lotion off.  I can then get all dressed up in my three best things,  that I carried lovingly from the trunk of my car on hangers with socks and undies stuffed in the pockets and proceed to dinner.  There I see the same Couples that have been  there every Sunday since 1986. Tradition….its a wonderful thing.

Now don’t get me wrong. The Couples we play with are great fun to be with and we have a great time. If there were no golf involved it would be a perfect outing.

Next week I join my regular group and I’m going to be ready to work hard to improve my game to the same level it was last year. I need to go from “Bloody awful “to “I hate this game”. I think I can do it.

Now, I have just finished the book "The Miracle at Augusta".

Each time the hero tees it up he says to the group.

“No Gimmies,

No Mulligans,

No Bull Shit

Lets play Golf!”

This will be my opening-rallying cry going forward even though it will add 5 strokes a round to the score. Has a nice ring to it.

Barbados..a Learning experience

Dear Jim:  A Barbados learning moment.

Well, after several years Sally and I decided to go back to Barbados for a winter break. 

The Shopping has become like something out of Rodeo Drive. A big fancy Designer Label shopping center has miraculously appeared next to several tin shacks and a goat.

You know I have little interest in any shopping venue and have even less on an Island holiday. I have everything I need until The End and with the odd thing I do buy I say "this will be the last one of these I'll ever have to buy".

 Sally loves it though and operates on autopilot whenever a cash register appears. 

I thought words like Precious, Adorable, Cute, Gorgeous and Wonderful applied to Grandchildren. Who knew? 

Apparently this is the new vocabulary for the latest fashions from Italy. At any rate, thank goodness we brought big half empty suitcases.

We were persuaded to stay on the St Lawrence Gap side of the Island where Poor People usually holiday. It was actually a good choice and although the Beach was terrible, the waves too rough, as were many of the guests, we quite liked it and will be happy to recommend it to acquaintances. 

We rented a car to go up to our usual hunting grounds on the West Coast for one day. I had forgotten driving in Barbados on little narrow roads and the thrill of seeing the big wide buses.

Now when I was drinking and driving in Barbados I used to close my eyes when a bus was coming at me from the opposite direction and hope that the blow would be a glancing one. Driving under the influence was not only allowed it was encouraged to give confidence to the tourists so they would go out for Dinner at night.

Now that I’m not drinking I can see the impending terror much clearer.  In addition to the cars and trucks barrelling down on you the Pedestrians are 6 deep on both sides of the road.  The guy in charge of building sidewalks hasn't been appointed yet. In the event someone made a mistake and built a little piece of sidewalk a car is typically sitting on it forcing the pedestrians even further in to the street.

Frankly I think the whole thing is a not so  subtle means of population control. No lights on the road, a bunch of crosswalks and Natives wearing all dark clothes. Along comes some Goofball used to driving on the right side of a 4 lane highway at home.  He is driving on the wrong side of the road under duress, staring in to oncoming headlights on a bright setting, windshield wipers flapping away and a passenger screaming for her Mommy. What could go wrong?

So on this rainy Wednesday night I was on my game.

I don’t think I killed anyone! 

 There was a lot of banging and strange noises along with the occasional scream. The two purses that were wrapped around my side mirrors were inexpensive and not worth trying to find the owners so I don’t know if there was any personal  damage there. A wool tuque was wedged under the front bumper but that could have been from a previous renter.

At any rate I got the car back sort of in one piece and vowed that this was my last drive in Barbados. A couple of Ativan and some hot and cold compresses got my blood pressure under 160 by noon the next day.

Our hotel was great but the beach wasn’t very swimmer friendly. The surf was very high and the undertow was quite strong. 

Sally went in to the water and then tried to come out. As I stood there watching I couldn't help worrying.  She was going to lose those $500 sun glasses if she wasn’t careful!

Each time she tried to stand up and walk out a wave would pound in and knock her around. I haven’t seen somersaults like that since we were in Gym class together as teenagers. After about 4 tries she was starting to lose her strength and was only able to get to one knee before the next wave whacked her. Being out of breath, she wasn't able to communicate with me and it was too noisy anyway to try and carry on a conversation.

Now just as  I’m thinking, this is going to be hard to explain to the Family,  a rather large Woman/Man type Brit jumped in to the surf and grabbed her by both hands and pulled her out. I would have thanked her but she gave me a very unfriendly look and appeared quite threatening to me  so I left the scene quickly.

If I had been thinking I could have taken a picture with my Iphone so I could show her how she looked after the final wave.

Sally was pretty good about it and even waited until dinner to ask me why I hadn’t jumped in to help her. I had all kinds of excuses about being a delicate guy and the coral and sand would have played havoc with my bare feet and I didn't want to hurt my arm in case I decided to go golfing ever again.

 I think  its possible I may have lost a few points here but the cuts and scrapes should heal without scars and I’m sure all will be forgotten in a week or two.

So here is my safety tip if you go to Barbados. If your partner wants to go swimming in rough seas with a strong undertow it is probably a good time to go to your room and change your bathing suit and do a few emails. This will ensure that you won’t be critiqued by your partner or a bunch of do-gooders who will feel obliged to jump in and help. 

It is truly amazing how many life lessons like this I have been able to pass on to you over the years. I hope you appreciate and learn from them!

 

Regards,

Bill Meder

The Chic Chocs

Dear Jim: The Chic Chocs….. Who Knew?

I think you would agree that I am not a bushwhacking, rugged, outdoorsy, nature loving, jock. Can you see me being happy traipsing through Moose trails by the day saying softly “oooooooh look there’s one”?

 I have been accurately described as delicate, maybe even fragile. When we are thinking of going somewhere I’m looking for the location of the nearest Ritz or Four Seasons .

Turns out there are a whole lot of outwardly sane looking tree huggers who love nothing better than going off in to the woods without phone or Wi-Fi to sop up the call of nature. I think if electric shock theory isn’t working for you here is a plan that might work.

I have just finished a 3 night journey to the Chic Choc Mountains in Northern Quebec. Staying in a small remote first class  lodge with 19 rooms,  our group of 10 guys took over the entire lodge with a staff of 10 .

Getting there was advertised as a snap. Lets see…one and half-hours in a private plane built during the war (I’m referring to WW1). This followed by a one and a half hour ride in a 10-seater bus with 10 people, some of who would normally be asked to shift their seat position to balance an aircraft. Then just when you think you aren’t going to live another 10 minutes you turn on to a gravel road to go up to the lodge…another one hour and 15 minutes! Arrival consists of falling out of the Van with all of your teeth loosely rolling around in your jaw and being picked up and straightened out by one of the courteous staff. Normally walking posture returned within 2 hours so it wasn’t as bad as it may have sounded.

Now let me day right away that this is a great place, planned and conceived by one member of our group over 10 years ago and it currently is fully booked by guests from around the world who even come back for several visits!! It is a beautiful facility, first class in every way and brilliantly located with views that can’t be captured on camera.

The food was loved by almost everyone. The menu included Red Deer, Elk, Caribou, Rabbit, Sturgeon, Rabbit livers and Duck. When they asked if there were any dietary considerations the group had I wasn’t smart enough to realize what items might be found in the forest where Bambi and Thumper live.

Small error on my part. The four pounds that I lost on main courses were quickly gained back by unlimited slices of sugar pie and cookies.

 The Chef used to work at the Beaver Club in Montreal, a very high-end restaurant. How did he get to the Chic Chocs you say?  Well His resume goes like this: T rained as a sous chef in France, working his way up all the big name restaurants here there and everywhere and now (drumroll) a career toping stint as the head chef at the 19 room Chic Choc lodge located Nowhere.

 I’m thinking he must have food poisoned the Sultan of Brunei or something and fled in to the bush ending up at the Lodge. He did have a nervous tick that indicated that maybe he is in hiding. Never the less he and his small staff performed beautifully and there was one standing ovation after another as each course of some animal part or another was placed in front of us.

I know you want to hear about the Moose search. Well we all dressed up in warm clothes including gloves and tuques and headed down a trail in to the valley below us looking for Moose. I can’t answer the question “Do Bears poop in the woods” conclusively but I can say without any doubt that Moose do poop in the woods non-stop and not in the most convenient places.

Our guide holds some antlers in his hand and a bottle of Moose Urine in a spray bottle in the other hand. (Don’t ask how he comes by the Moose Urine but I’m sure you can see why I’m thinking this guy deserves a big tip).

So here is this goofball scraping small bushes with his fake antlers and spraying urine in to the air here there and everywhere. He has a beard and is wearing a Tully hat!  Now the first obvious question is, how stupid are these Moose?

Turns out they are pretty much really dumb as they look at our guide like he is one of the gang. A little skinny but no problem. So we quietly get closer and closer to a 2000 lbs. male who has 3 females standing staring at him. Seems the mating dance takes a long time so everyone stands in position for 24 hours or so until someone makes a move. This gets boring real quick so after walking downhill for 30-45 minutes, taking 1100 pictures, we turn around to go back.

Now this may sound obvious to you city slickers but walking back up a hill that took 45 minutes to go down isn’t as easy as it sounds. One of the obvious take home aspects of the trip. A great time killer however in a place with nothing to do.

At any rate, there were no fish in the rivers because there is hardly any water in the river and wandering around in the bush trying not to get your eye poked out took most of our time. We were busy 14 hours a day!

I am now back home after a trip that took the same time as flying home from Portugal and trying to figure out how to say “I’m sick that weekend” when the others say “I can hardly wait to go back, the best trip I have ever been on, I loved every minute of it. Wow.”

Bill Meder

With friends like these.

Dear Jim:

Yesterday I played in a golf tournament. Yes, I know the forecast was for rain, wind and cold temperatures. I communicated that fact to the other three members of our group with a link to the radar system showing a deluge of biblical proportions arriving about 3 minutes before tee off.  If we were pre-paids in Ireland I could maybe understand but..

No reaction, so off I went to the Club secure in the knowledge that no one in their right mind plays golf in the conditions about to descend on the island. A quick coffee, expressions of "too bad" all around, and then off to a movie.

Right on schedule the rain started as we stood under the Portico waiting for clubs to be loaded on to carts etc. As the intensity increased I announced to everyone  “I see a group of senior executives and very rich people preparing to golf. How did you people become successful…you are all obviously a bunch of morons?”

Never mind, off we went to the first hole. Now the wind has come up and the rain is driving sideways. I couldn’t see a thing so I pulled out a tissue to clean my glasses.   No improvement… I wasn’t wearing glasses.

I’m first up and get ready. Now you know that my game is dependent on a sequence of finely tuned moves requiring extreme concentration and finesse. A soft drizzle adds 10 strokes to my game and wind has me picking up on every hole.

 As I stared in to the gale I thrashed away a drive 150 yards straight up in the air, which landed 20 yards from the tee. It only got worse from there.

One member of the team had a 4. Rats, I’m thinking, he isn’t going to quit if he is shooting pars. Sure enough he pars the next one as well. I can just make out his smiling face as the water cascades down his teeth.

By the fourth hole my Footjoy Dry golf shoes are making a squishing noise. My partner keeps the golf cart aimed in to the wind so that the rain is directly on my side of the cart and I have lost all feeling in my right hand. My wet suit is now useless and holds 20 pounds of water.

By the sixth hole the first drops of ice water start to roll down my back, coming from the sopping wet collar of my golf shirt. My hat is raining inside and the brim is flapping and smacking my face like a cold washcloth I used to use to sober up.

My teammates look like drowned rats but no one is talking. I'm starting to think Eulogy highlights.

Finally on the seventh hole we decide to pack it in. A good thing too, I was about to fake a heart attack.  We are on the green that is about 50 yards from the clubhouse so I walk in, my partner takes the cart to the bag shop and everyone heads for the shower.

Not the worst day of my life but one I'm not likely to forget. To make matters worse….

One of my teammates, making a joke, tells 4 of my friends that the only reason he quit was that on the 7 th hole, Bill, without saying a word, gets in the cart and drives off with the clubs, leaving the others holding a putter and nothing else. So they had to quit. Ha Ha Who would believe that I would do such a thing?

Well it seems all 4 friends believed every word saying  “Well, that’s Bill!”

With friends like these…

Four teams finished the 18 holes and good news was that there were four prizes. They were strutting around all proud of themselves and I’m thinking…stay away from these people, they are clearly mentally ill and who knows what they are capable of.

Next week I’m going up to the Chic Chocs a two hour flight due north to hide in the bush pretending to be a male Moose so that female Moose will come looking for me. I don’t know why I signed up for this or what you say to 1600 lbs. Moose lumbering towards you thinking you are up for a little hanky panky.  I think the first thing is to determine if it is a female Moose. That inspection could be down -right dangerous.

I will certainly let you know how this works out if I survive.

Bill Meder