I've Got It!!

Who knew that it would take 30+ years before I could say, “ I’ve got it”.

This week I played and everything you would want to be right was fantastic. Every shot was long and straight. Every club in the bag was flawless, smooth and crisp. Chipping was worthy of filming if anyone had been around and putting? Forget the 3-putt and call me mister 1 putt!!

Now I did quit after 11 holes because it looked like it might rain so I can’ t say what a fantastic score I would have achieved. Didn’t matter.

Now I know how it feels. I know how to address the ball and initiate that beautiful full swing.  Don’t worry about giving me any short putts..there won’t be any…the first putt will be in the hole!

Wholly Molly I am excited.

Going forward the cry “Golf is my Life” will be on my lips every day.

Now I promise I  am not going to insult you by having some cliché OOPS moment next time out and crying boo- hoo it is all over. No way. This is real and permanent.

I’ve got it and it is here to stay! 

I feel so good I can barely stand it.

I will keep you posted.

Bill Meder

Rats, here we go again.

Yesterday it was 12 C, the wind was blowing and it was raining. I decided to go to the Golf Club to drop off my new clubs, load my locker with clothes and money for losing bets. Make everything pretty for the upcoming season.

When I arrived I was astounded to see that there were no parking spots available. First time I have ever seen this in 35 years.

I looked at the warm-up area and they were lined two deep waiting for a spot to hit balls. I went in to the pro shop and discovered that the course was fully booked!

Meanwhile there was a steady stream of people heading over to the 9-hole Dixie course and a mob practicing putting.

My first thought was “does all that cement in their heads make their neck muscles sore?”

I am obviously entering the final days of my life because I couldn’t have golfed yesterday if Jack Nicklaus had asked me to play a few holes with him.

I was miserable having lunch because it was so cold in the dining room.

And adding even more mystery to the scene…many players had just returned from playing golf all winter in Florida. I don’t get it. Do golfers lose their minds over the winter?

I am almost sorry the winter is over because I’m going to be on a constant guilt trip for the next 5 months for not playing golf every day the sun comes out.

Thank goodness it is pouring rain today so it isn’t even possible to drive out to the club and I can sit in front of the fire, semi-conscious for the entire day and night, binge watching Netflix.

At any rate, I’m all-good to go for this new season . I have new everything and more golf clothes and accessories than any sane person would have in their inventory. All I need is to find some desire to get going. 

It seems like such a hassle. Driving all the way out there. Getting covered in greasy sunblock, whacking balls to “warm up” and then stumbling around for 4 hours with the bugs etc and don’t get me talking about practicing.

Who wants to do that?  My sessions last 10-12 minutes and then I’m bored. Not a good reward for all the start-up and shut down required going out there.

As I'm running out the clock I wonder how this all ends. Last Night we went to the Annual meeting and dinner. 

I have been a member for 35 years. Out of our current roster of 1600 members, I now can say for sure that I know 35 of them!

Although "know" is a strong word. I can recall  first names for at least one member of most of the  couples and I  nod at many others while moving quickly through the crowd without stopping to have a conversation. Eventually, I am going to suggest we wear name tags.

I know this sounds quite negative and so you wonder why I don’t just quit and be done with it?

I can’t give it up …it’s my best sport and I can't find anything else to fill a whole day with mindless effort.

At any rate I am sure the desire will ignite any minute now and I will be all excited to play. At least for the first 5 or 6 holes.

I will follow up with you when the anti-depressants kick in.

Regards.

Bill Meder

Downhill!!

Dear Jim:

You remember that Mercedes Sports Car I had for all those years. I loved that car and when I sold it last year I was sorry to see it go. It still looked perfect and drove beautifully. Unfortunately, things kept breaking down which cost a fortune to fix. Eventually I had to throw in the towel and say fixing this old beauty isn’t worth it anymore. 

Well that describes me!

My teeth, (the ones still standing) are in great shape but my gums have to be rebuilt from the ground up. One tooth that I have lost is being replaced with an implant. When I’m finished this will become a line item on my list of assets and my executors will be able to answer the question of where all my money went.

My eyes work well but the eyelids are not worth a damn. For $1000 a  year, I can have a procedure that ensures I can cry like a baby if I‘m watching a sad movie. Drops twice a day, warm compress every morning and night for the rest of my short remaining life.  And eat Tuna twice a week, mercury blood level monitoring will begin in 6 months!  Hell, my calendar has more personal maintenance items on it than meetings.

As I looked in the mirror this morning the scar under my left eye is healing nicely, the stiches in my mouth were just removed and the swelling seems to be going down. My left eye is half closed and the right one is red and watering like a tap. So from the neck up...not so good. 

As for the out of sight bits, my hearing is good (at least that is what I think he said) and I can still walk and chew gum at the same time. 

Every doctor I see refers me to a specialist of some kind who then sends me off for more appointment and tests. No one reads them, and most of the time we can’t find the results, which gives me more things to follow up and do. I feel that our Health Minister should have me on his staff as I’m spending more time managing his Doctors than he does. And if I hear “what do you expect at your age one more time “someone is going to get hurt. 

I often wondered how I would fill the days when I retired. No problem there. I’m working 60 hours a week on me.

And if I do have time to do something, nothing I attempt is simple. Yesterday I had Bell here to install Fibe TV. Two guys and a truck arrived and we did a walk around the house. Every sentence (with Bell you get to practice your French) began with …Where does that wire go?  Well I don’t know if that will work…or maybe we could do….or what’s that?...and where is your power-mesh backup tweeter and the best of all …we won’t know if it works until we are finished and if it doesn’t we can staple a wire along the floor boards and connect direct.

I said.” Here let me help you with your tool kit and make sure your ladder is well attached to the roof of your truck” Bye Bye.

So that’s the end of Fibe TV. 

Finally, in golf there are two fabulous days that I always look forward to. The first day of the season when I race out to the club with my new wonderful clubs and gear and get set up. The best is the last day of the season when I bring all the crap back home and throw it into a dark place in the basement.  Six guilt free months not playing that stupid game.

Bill Meder

By the way there are over 50 letters I have sent to you at http://billmeder.blogspot.ca

Everything is headed in the same direction!

Dear Jim:

Well it has taken 36 years but my handicap is now the same as it was in 1981.   Thousands spent on lessons, golf weeks and countless hours of practicing.  Almost 2500 rounds of golf, 12,000 hours of hitting and walking  in a mindless Groundhog Day kind of routine. What a completely useless waste of a life. Name me one other passive sport where you end up as you began. The only difference between then and now is that now there is no hope for the future. Tomorrow I play with Sally and she has to give ME strokes…yikes the humiliation of it all.

And if that wasn’t bad enough I continue to achieve new milestones in a sport that shows no mercy regardless of age or commitment. In a tournament last weekend I hit a shot that I have never done before. I stood in front of my ball in a sand trap, my favorite shot by the way, and took my normal, guaranteed out of the trap, swing. I looked on to the green but no ball.

WTF, I said to myself.

I looked down and there was the mark I had made in the sand… 4 inches closer to me than the ball. 

Didn’t think that would be possible but hang on. I did it three times in three different traps!

Hasn’t happened since. Is my brain being manipulated by some higher power that is just screwing with me or are circuits just burned out and misfiring?…who knows.

I had the pro shop install one of those big putter grips on my trusty Scotty Cameron that has served me well. People say they love the feel of the big grip and it is true. I loved the feel also and enjoyed standing around the green holding on to it.

The one problem they failed to mention is that with that grip you cannot transmit the command down to the blade to put the ball into the hole.

During our tournament I missed 6 short putts that all would have counted. They weren’t even close. My teammates had expressions on their face like you would at the beginning of your colonoscopy.

 I can’t do speed or direction.

Final putt for birdie on 17 Blue…6 feet. Hit the ball 4 feet…just barely made the remaining 2 footer as it circled the cup twice before falling in. Fat grip bites the dust today and I asked the pro shop to have it cremated to ensure no bad Karma remains.  I hope my new Scotty Cameron grip is forgiving and I apologized to it for having put it through these changes.

And finally, I played with someone for the first time on Tuesday. Front nine..45. Ok, respectable and not unpleasant to watch.

Second nine. 57.

You laugh…it’s not funny. It is impossible to do that. I called “Ripley’s believe it or not” to see if it has ever happened. Nope!

So how did that happen? you ask .

 Well I started on the 10^th and went 7,7,7, and the only reason I took 6 on the next hole was because it was a par 3. For the next holes I then went water, water, water and finally two in the water on 17, a short par 3. I have no recollection of the 18^th

We didn’t have a drink after the round (he was in a hurry to get away) and he didn’t say, “that was fun, lets do it again some time”.

I am going to have to wear a disguise next time out.

And finally, Sally went off to LA to visit and left me in charge of the house for the week. She will be home in a few hours and hopefully by then the gardeners will have replaced all the dead plants.  I did promise to water every day but surely not every one of them needs it every day. And who knew a plant could drown?

There are a lot of inefficiencies in running this place. I started off not making the bed which makes sense, then not opening the curtains in the morning, or hanging up my clothes at the end of the day or putting anything away that I might need later. It wouldn’t look good on a snap inspection but hey, when you are all alone nobody knows that you are living like a slob.

I only ran the dishwasher once. You don’t need fancy plates for most food and knives and forks are highly overrated for many foods.

At any rate you get the picture. If Sally wasn’t coming home today the house would be on the market by mid next week and advertised as a fixer upper.

Talk soon

Bill Meder

We was Robbed!

Dear Jim: We was Robbed!

So after making a dinner reservation for 6.45 pm at a well known Biker/Mafia hangout we left our house at 6.25 leaving a car in the driveway and all the lights in the house on. First time we have left our house during the week at dinnertime in a year.

According to our neighbor’s cameras, at 6.31 four goofballs pulled up to our driveway and jockeyed back and forth looking for our house which is down a long driveway. They smashed a door and welcomed themselves in to our house.

After a lovely evening,  at 8.50 pm I asked for the bill at the restaurant. Turns out, the thieves left at 8.51pm!!

Now although that seems like a long time to spend in the house they were very neat and didn’t break anything. Every room, every drawer etc was cleaned out. I didn’t see any evidence that they had dinner but clearly they had the time. They did open a case of wine in my cellar but possibly didn’t think the vintage was up to par as they didn’t take any of it.

Now you are asking yourself, as did the Police and the Insurance company, what about the alarm?

Yes, I was proud to say, “ I do have an alarm system”. It was installed in 1970. With a little further probing it was confirmed that I had last armed it on October 3, 1987.

I was unable to find it to show them how great it was but did point out that there are motion detectors on a couple of walls . (I have discovered since that they are collector items). I called the alarm company and they asked me for my code. “You need a code?”

At any rate I haven’t had a break-in for 30 years and we seldom left the house for more than a few hours at a time. Why would I be arming an alarm? Doesn’t make sense to me.

 Neither the Police, the Insurance Company or any of my smart-assed friends were impressed with my Alarm protocol and the gloating was irritating.  “Oh, I arm my alarm when I take out the garbage or go to the end of the driveway to get the paper”….yeah, right.

The police, led by inspector Clouseau arrived promptly at 9.15 with 6 patrol cars and 9 or so officers. Four of them stayed until 6am the next morning and they finger printed every surface in the house. You may not know this but  the dust they use is black and they are not as neat as the thieves. The contrast with our white house was quite striking and I’m sorry I didn’t take pictures.

I did comment to a few of the officers  that when I was 7 years old I watched a robbery movie and they couldn’t find the finger prints because the crooks wore GLOVES!. ( My window repair guy speculated that the Police had nothing else to do and liked being at my house so just processed the crime scene until their shift was over at 6am.)

As we stood in the family room where they had broken a glass sliding door to come in, Inspector Clouseau says, “This is where they left from”. My Brother-in-Law who was staying with us and is probably not on anybody’s top 100 list for detective-trainee candidate, says, “ If that is how they left, why is all the glass in the family room?” After a long delay Inspector Clouseau turns and says, “ You make a good point”.

So now we take inventory of what is missing.

 I’m saying I never liked all that Silver anyway as it gave off a glare when we took family pictures. Apparently we had some nice stuff that I hadn’t noticed. The good news is we can’t host the family Easter dinner because we no longer have any silver place settings or gravy bowls. If we don’t replace all this stuff, no more family events. How lucky can you get?

I told Sally, that less Jewelry was keeping with the times and now she didn’t have to make any decisions. She can wear what she wore that night (the eve of our 50^th wedding anniversary) or nothing. Sure simplifies things.  She didn’t seem impressed when I told her that someone with more than one watch never knows the real time.

The Bastards stole my two Centennial Golf trophies and a sliver tray I won for Sailing.

I told Inspector Clouseau to be on the look out for someone swarthy looking, with a southern European accent, showing off his golfing accomplishments at some drug bust or bragging about lifting a hull in a Catamaran. (Wait till they find out what golfing skills you need to win this thing!) I immediately called the Golf Club and they told me I could replace the Centennial winning cups for $203 each! My first purchase when I get the insurance money.

So the adventure is over. The team that provides security for the White House is now outfitting my house. We won’t be able to have anyone over because they won’t be able to get within 50 feet of the house. I know the horse has left the barn but hey..want to talk about home security? I’m now the world’s foremost authority on the subject.

My gun training begins next week and I  chose a weapon with a personal grip sensor so that Sally can’t accidentally fire it. Safety (mine) first.

Inspector Clouseau confirmed to me this morning that we will never get our stuff back, the crooks  won’t be back because they know we don’t have any more stuff, and when the police catch them they will get a few months in Prison to rest up and get back to work with their friends soon. The next time I go to that restaurant I’m only going to tip 15% to make a statement. They will get the message.

 The 300 pictures and finger prints the Police took along with my beautifully crafted statement  are on file and Inspector Clouseau confirmed that no one will look at any of it…ever.

I will keep you posted.

Bill Meder

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