Dear Jim: And the beat goes on....

Dear Jim:

Well it has been a while and I’m getting a lot of pressure to update you on my Golf. People are cruel and seem to love hearing about my misfortunes so here goes.

As you know I like records and I set one yesterday in a mini-competition where I was paired with someone else’s spouse in an attempt to win a Canada day prize. The worst score I have ever recorded for 9 holes was 54. This occurred on the very first day I played at RMGC in 1981. Since then I have spent roughly $20,000 and two thousand hours on fine tuning my body and game to improve, becoming the experienced player you see in front of you today, 32 years later.

 Yesterday I shot 57 on the front 9 of the Blue. It would have been worse had I not had a few good holes in the middle.

As I passed the pro-shop to the back nine an exorcism occurred for no apparent reason and on the back nine I stood on the 18^th hole needing a 4 to post a 43.

 Now for the past 3 years I have hit that tee shot in to the water on the left every time and I was determined not to repeat with so much on the line. I aimed waaaaay right, weakened my grip and decided to just punch out a short drive. The swing occurred in 4 separate, unrelated motions with both feet being off the ground on impact. The ball went due left without a whiff of a curve in either direction and landed in the middle of the ducks swimming along following my play. I carded a 7 and headed in to the 19^th hole.

My partner, who is used to winning, looked depressed and I asked her what the problem was. She said that she was really upset that she didn’t clear the water on the 16^th hole. I told her that I didn’t care then, I don’t care now and no one you discuss this with will care either. I think she was looking for a little more sympathy than I was capable of at that moment and she vowed never to play with me again. That kind of capped off the day and I picked up my prize for most honest golfer and went home.

Today I’m not golfing because I sprained my right wrist when I dug a 6 inch trench with my Driver on the 3^rd hole and my left elbow is still twanging from a 7 iron shot that caused the blade of the club to disappear in to the fairway. There is no bottle of divot repair material large enough, that would have been possible to carry, for the hole filling required.  I won’t even describe my back pain except to say I expect to be able to stand upright around Wednesday.  If I went to the club today and people asked “how are you”? I know they wouldn’t have time for the full assessment and prognosis so I will hide out here at home.

There is more to life than golf, you say. In that spirit and not wanting to let a beautiful day go by I decided to go on a 30 mile bike ride at 6 am this morning. After being passed by at least a 100 other cyclists I decided that I was going to keep up with a 78 year old Grandmother who passed me going up cardiac hill. The pain in my left knee is indicating replacement surgery.

So, sorry for not keeping you up to date on my golf but any further updates will be in the nature of a medical bulletin.

Sally has given me a list of things to do around the house for the rest of the day so I decided that a snooze was in order. Hopefully, tomorrow will be more fun.

I’ll keep you posted.

Bill Meder

Dear Jim: A new season arrives

Dear Jim:

Just finished the three day weekend and am back at golf and as fit as I can be.

Interesting that over the winter the Golf Course maintenance team somehow added 20 yards to most of the holes. No notice to the members and no evidence of how they did it but it is clear that the golf fiends have prevailed and made everything harder. Never mind, I   bought all new equipment designed to add at least 20 yards to every club.

During the test phase the new clubs were unbelievable. Foolishly, I paid for them as soon as the invoice arrived and just like that they became exactly the same as my old clubs only they looked nicer. This is proof positive that there is a higher power in the Universe screwing with you. There is no other explanation.

 I could move up to the red tees but the bullies at our club shout insults when they see you anywhere near them. Everyone I play with does the same thing. Driver, three wood, wedge, hope to sink the putt. I don’t know anyone who gets on the green in regulation but then again I don’t have many people willing to play with me anymore. At any rate I’m going to get a fake beard and glasses and try to move up and see if that works for me.

I used to break 90 every game and looked forward to breaking 80. I now jump from foot to foot when I break 100 and 90 is my new “best game this year” target. The good news is that I now know for certain that I will never go to Florida to play this game all year round so I have saved myself a lot of pain and money to boot.

I have been working out like crazy and my  fitness level is now so high I decided on Sunday to take out my bike that I haven’t been on for a couple of years. I have a route that you and I used to do in 55 minutes.  About an hour and a half in to the run I had begun to wonder if I was going to make it home.   My second thought was, would I make it home before dark? I also discovered that if you don’t turn the pedals fast enough you fall over! Other cyclists were passing me going so fast I thought there was a car race being held on my route. Humiliating. I was able to get the bike back in to my basement and my chiropractor says that I should be able to stand up straight by Friday.  Another activity bites the dust.

So there you have it, my skill set is declining. This phenomenon is supposed to creep up on you. I want more creeping and less drama. I’m running out of things I can do, never mind do well. And if that isn’t enough I’m told in fairly strong terms by people who are in the know that “it isn’t coming back”. Oh well I think I’m going to buy a red Ferrari and whistle at young women.

I will keep you posted,

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The end of Florida

Dear Jim:

You asked me when I am going back to Florida. The short answer is never.

The weather once again was cold, rainy and windy for our entire stay. Oh yes I do know that It didn’t rain for three months before we came and that after we left there were record highs recorded every day. This is the same story we have heard after every trip to Florida we have taken in the past 10 years. We may be slow to catch on but when I overheard our host calling his buddy, the President of our major airline, asking him to put Sally and me on the “no fly list” for the winter months I realized that no one even wants us there in the first place.

Lots to do, right? Well off to the movies we went just like we do here. A couple of differences. Standing in line with 6 elderly gentlemen we were asked 10 times what movie we were going to. When we go in to the theater one of them asked Sally three times to remind him what movie he had tickets for. When we were in the movie and it had started 10 men came in and shouted” sorry for the interruption, our bus was late” The guy behind me was shouting in to his cell phone “Harry, it’s me, can you hear me?” After the movie the same guy who didn’t know which movie he was seeing asked for directions to leave the theater. No, I’m not making any of this up.

So, with nothing to do, shopping becomes the pastime. In all my years of travelling we have never declared our purchases in excess of the exemption and here is a safety tip. Don’t do it.

Punching in to the Nexus machine that we had to pay duty resulted in two cards being printed with big dollar signs on them. When we got to the exit I proudly waved the cards and said we are here to pay duty. In to the hall we went where 100 immigrants were standing in line clutching their card board boxes and obnoxious little ankle biters as they waited for the 4 or 5 customs agents to go through their stuff. I pushed my way to the head of the line and demanded to know where the Nexus line was and declared that I’m already admitting I’m over the limit and want to pay my duty.

“There is no line for Nexus in here, it is every man for himself and get to the back of the line” Now I’m in line with all the pigs and chickens and there is a dog howling and barking like you have never heard before. I push to the head of the line again and ask the supervisor if there is a “whistle blowers program”. “Absolutely”, he said, rubbing his hands together.

I stated in hushed tones that I had clear evidence that someone was trying to smuggle a dog in to the country. Now, I thought that at least he would smile and say come on in but nooo. “Get to the back of the line” And so it went.

An hour later we were free.

So that’s it for Florida! Don’t ever mention it again.

Bill Meder

A trip to Florida..i.e. Hell

Well it has been a long time. Nothing to report. I'm writing you this as Sally and I make our way to your house in florida.

I tried to get an upgrade on the flight but as usual nothing was available. Smart me decides to pay extra for the bulkhead seats and booked an aisle for me and one for Sally.

As the plane is boarding who do I see coming down the aisle but a 6 foot 3 giant carrying a backpack bigger than my suitcase and an 8 month old little goober in his arms. Right behind him is another one exactly the same with a 1 year old. Oh Boy, keep moving I say, your seat is probably 45 abc. Nope  right beside me and also right  beside Sally.
Now you know I love kids.

Kids, however should be left home with sitters when their parents travel or they should belong to rich parents with private planes. There is no way they belong in my row on a long or short flight for that matter to anywhere.

First up the young bride opens up her tupperware collection and starts eating penne arribiata with her fingers. I'm thinking, what the hell were you doing before we boarded the plane and what happened that you have to eat within 3 minutes of taking your seat.

Not to worry. The Dads decided they had a common bond and talked over me to each other with skill testing questions about sleep habits, burping programs and diaper changing techniques. Every five minutes one of them would jump up, step over me and bounce up and down in the aisle to entertain the little bugger.The jumping was quite aggressive and all three seats in the row bounced three or four inches off the floor with each motion." Why not let the little ladies have a turn" says I thinking they will have enough brains to give the kid some drugs and force it to sleep. Not so fast.

Breast feeding has never been a favourite of mine. From 8 inches there is a lot of sight and sound activity that is very off putting when you are reading a mystery novel.  Women today aren't as shy as our mothers were.I didn't even know my mother had breasts.

 When it became apparent that a diaper change was called for there was a move to do it at our seat. " Don't even think about it" I said." I am a pedophile and my counsellor says I shouldn't be exposed to naked kids" I spat out at them.

I don't know what diseases these kids have but I have them all now. Each cough resulted in a fine mist sprayed over my entire body. And they came fast and furious for the whole flight.

Finally, I got the two kids on my side of the aisle and moved on to Sally's side. I sat in the middle seat. I love a middle seat in economy. So cozy. The guy sitting beside me was so sticky from kid goop I thought he was wearing Velcro each time I made physical contact with him.

Now I have always known that  when you arrive at the gate and the agent asks how many wheelchairs do they need it is to take off the people who died flying in the back of the plane. I put in my order 1 hour out of Fort lauderdale and hoped that my friends and family would understand that no sane person could live through this.
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Jeremy Reitman is my witness to all of this but he was and probably is still laughing so hard he can't talk so I thought I would get this out before I succumb to whatever disease I am obviously infected with.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The Golden years

Dear Jim:

Well at last I have achieved perfection in all aspects of my disintegrating body. Nothing hurts and I have never been in better shape. In addition to not drinking, smoking, looting and pillaging or anything else that is fun I am now a new Pilates convert.

Here are a few safety tips when doing Pilates or showing off your new found flexibility to friends at dinner parties.

When you are lying on your back, spread eagle position with your legs straight out held by your feet wrapped in straps it is really good to remember to wear shorts with a lining.

When you lie down in a door frame to show how you can push your leg flat up the wall you should try to do it wearing socks. No one warned me that the heels of your shoes leave black marks that require repainting to remove!

Similarly when you are standing beside a dining room table and want to demonstrate that you can put your leg sideways flat on the table without crying out in pain you want to be sure the place settings and particularly the butter dish have been removed.

You think jumping is easy? I am an action hero jumper in my mind and could leap over a 10 foot fence without using my hands. Try to stand on both feet and jump on to a ball that is 8 inches off the ground. Can’t be done!

Try not to do your session when there are women in the room. Nothing puts you off more than people laughing and pointing when you are trying to concentrate.

An hour is an hour except when you are doing Pilates when it is two hours. You will find yourself disoriented and you need to give yourself time for your muscles to stop their spasms before you try and pick anything up.

I have grabbed on to Pilates  like a drowning man reaches out for a piece of seaweed.  This will continue until I pull something or something breaks off or falls off and then I will look for the next new, new thing. With this new state of body I am now moved in to full  maintenance mode. Now to be clear this is not the program I followed for the past 30 years when I used to visit the doctor and a few specialists every year or two . They  would pat me on the back and tell me “Good Boy” and send me on my way and I would pick up a quart of Grey Goose for the ride home.  This is like keeping a 1978 Mustang in fine working condition where parts are hard to find and rot has set in to the main frame.

I have more people involved in my maintenance program than I had working for me when I qualified for the Young Presidents’ Organization.  My Chiropractor, Nero- Surgeon (back guy), Physio-therapist, Pilates Coach, Osteopath and Massage Therapist are all on regular weekly and bi-weekly visits. My Internist, Urologist (two of these), Dermatologist, MRI, CAT scan and Anal prober seem to require quarterly visits at least. My dentist is paired up with a Gum specialist so that I’m always gearing up for that pleasant cleaning process and wait for  “your teeth are fine but your gums will have to come out.” I won’t even mention my Nutritionist who has removed any food from my diet that tastes good. Blood work is done twice a year for fun and more often for reasons I can’t figure out.  I have a monthly parking pass at the Royal Victoria Hospital and the Jewish. My pharmacist thinks he is a member of my family and wants to come for Xmas dinner. My speed dial has no room for friends or family.

When we go out for dinner with friends we have had to add an hour to the visit so that everyone can explain the latest treatment revelation in their lives before we solve the problems of Greece or Wall Street. Normal aches and pains are not allowed for discussion. Only things that require operations or that are life threatening are really interesting except I find that medical gossip is nowhere near as much fun as the other kind that used to dominate our dinner conversations.

So you put this all together and I guess this solves the mystery of what people do as they get on. It gets even better since everyone who takes an appointment wants to call you to confirm the appointment …your phone is always ringing off the hook.

Ah…the Golden Years…

The only thing that is really going to tick me off is if I die suddenly and all my overweight, semi-alcoholic do- nothing friends live to be 100, giggling all the way. If I haven’t figured out a way to communicate at the time please promise me that you will tell them I hate them in my Eulogy.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The Wedding

October 16, 2011

Dear Jim: Last Saturday's wedding note to the Schwarz clan.

Dear Gaston and Matte:

I woke up this morning after last night’s wedding party feeling depressed. As I try to get my big toe in to the trigger guard I thought I would share a few thoughts with you. As I looked across the room at all the beautiful people I realized that this used to be us! Then I looked around my table and thought, no, no this can’t be how it ends. (Possibly a life threatening thought...don't tell anyone I said it). What a crowd! If it wasn’t for the drooling and leering from my age group the picture would have been perfect.

I must say the Windsor is the best venue in Montreal, hands down. Elegant and sophisticated. Now that the Schwarz clan is complete I suspect we have seen our last party there. I feel sorry for the next parents who need to hold a wedding. You have all set the bar so high that eloping is the only option. I think of my daughter’s wedding in Barbados on the beach with just our family and a few drug dealers as observers and am thrilled that I dodged one bullet. When my son gets married, if I’m still alive, I’m going to have to suggest Bora Bora in August with just the two of them and ask that they take a lot of pictures.

The food was fabulous.  I would describe the menu as Lots and More. It was superb and the service was exceptional also. The wine couldn’t have been better and as you know I don’t drink. I did consider backing up the SUV and loading a few cases for my wine cellar but I thought the staff might notice and think I was interfering with their plans. It was difficult enough getting all those flowers in to the car with the rain coming down so hard.

I’m not a dancer but I did go to the floor to see that gang throw Nikole in to the air. I tried to get in on catching her but with my back and the under 40 bunch in front of me I backed off. The band was great and when my ears stop ringing sometime next week I’m going to find out who they were so I can recommend them. The two 80+ year olds dancing up a storm when I left really put me off.  I looked for a stretcher or ambulance waiting outside but they were well hidden. There is no way they survived the nite.

Funny, I didn’t talk to Matte all night.  I did follow her around hoping that her bracelet might fall off and I would be able to buy a new Porsche Panamera (Turbo) and maybe a Cayenne for the winter with the change. (I know that this idea doesn’t seem very nice and in fact I would have returned it for the reward and bought a Prius instead.)

Nikole and Karl were smashing and the speeches were the highlight. 90 seconds from the father of the bride is just about right and both of your sons spoke brilliantly. Really, it was the best I’ve seen.

So the perfect family, the perfect spouses, the fabulous careers, the perfect holidays and everyone fit and beautiful. You do understand how we can all agree to hate you!

Thank you so much for including us. It was the best and it was so much fun seeing so many of our friends and having the opportunity to get caught up.  You both have done such a wonderful job with your family and watching them and their friends celebrate this event was a real treat.

Bill and Sally Meder

Letters to Jim: Day 2

Dear Jim:

So, I know you want to know how day 2 of the Centennial golf tournament went. Without being dramatic it was arguably the worst day of my life!

I won’t bother you with the details (shot 100) but it was 5 hours of hacking and whacking in a non flattering display of crap. Don’t ask me how but we still ended up winning $10 after betting $500. (Skip Eaman shooting even par on the back nine may have played a role.  Our money man is a former banker and they are slippery devils at best so I’m not going to question how we did it but I feel like we stole something.

That’s it, that’s all. Golf sucks and I won’t be seen around the club again except when I go to clean out my locker.

The dinner/dance was everything I expected it to be. Black tie summer events are not to be missed. Sitting in the main room with the music blasting was a great idea. My ears are still ringing and I’m hoarse from yelling at the person sitting next to me to pass the rolls or whatever. The service was great , taking as long as our round of golf,  leaving no time for dancing. I made my escape by 11pm.

For some reason I look forward to this tournament every year. Unless I develop a mental illness this will unlikely be the case for 2012.

Bill