In keeping with our tradition, my father Ed and I met for a trip for 2 rounds of golf this past week. I was pleased to make the first leg arranged, with a round at our old club Austin Country Club, now famous for the Dell World Match Play Championship. It was cool to watch on TV and made me want to go back. So last Wednesday we did.
The course has held up well over 30 years and the recent renovation courtesy of the PGA Tour helped a lot. The greens were as good as I've seen, like at Sand Hills where if you just miss a bit that you've got a tough chip. And no easy putts. I played from the Riverside tees, 6,200 yards and that was plenty.
Ed remembered how he was playing with Davis Love, Jr. and his son Mark Love in 1985 or so when I came out and played the last 3 holes and hit a lot of good shots. I had forgotten but I remembered along with him. That was unexpected. And then to live it again, I crushed a drive on 18, over the bunker, down the hill and in front of the hazard. Just had a partial wedge in. I felt like a pro. We measured the drive at 330 yards. Downhill, downwind, didn't matter, it was still huge.
Our host John was a lot of fun and he walked all 18 holes in the heat. After we finished, we drove the long way to San Antonio through Dripping Springs and Blanco. With the sun going down, it was a great Hill Country drive. We had dinner at the Oak Springs Cafe in Dripping Springs, and it was a real Texas cafe. Complete with peach cobbler.
Thursday we continued the historic Texas golf tour at Brackenridge Park, one of our favorites. We had Dad's good friend Jim there and he was charming as usual. We also played with a nice guy Josh who rode around on a skateboard type golf cart. He was very athletic so he made it look easy.
The last time I played Brackenridge I had a great round, so I had something to live up to. I played hard again, but made double bogey on 13, 14 and 16. On 13 I hit a great drive and then my second shot over the green out of bounds on the par 5. But the drive was 300+ yards again. I bounced back with birdie on 15, and gutsy pars on 17 and 18 for an 80, my best round of this year (so far).
Thursday night we had a nice dinner at Paesano's and then watched the NBA Finals game 6 (Cleveland won) and then I fly home Friday. Not a bad couple of days off.
It was nice to be together during this Fathers' Day week. Ed said he was glad he had introduced me and Elizabeth to the game. I was glad he got to see and remember some good shots by me.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Back from vacation * Bag still on vacation
As a postscript to our nice Florida vacation, when we returned late to Harlingen, my bag did not come out just as I got an announcement, "Passenger Gregory Turley..." I learned that my bag had gone to Midland, TX. Glad I had my car keys! So Southwest Air arranged to deliver it to me the next day.
That next day, I was waiting. They had already called saying it would be here in the afternoon. About 5 while I was wondering whether to wait longer, I got another call - now my bag had gone to LaGuardia airport in New York.
My bag has wanderlust - doesn't want to come back.
When it does get back, I plan to retire it and get a new one. It's been a long journey for that Tumi. It's been to Europe, South America, the Caribbean, all over the USA, Mexico, Canada. Time for rest.
That next day, I was waiting. They had already called saying it would be here in the afternoon. About 5 while I was wondering whether to wait longer, I got another call - now my bag had gone to LaGuardia airport in New York.
My bag has wanderlust - doesn't want to come back.
When it does get back, I plan to retire it and get a new one. It's been a long journey for that Tumi. It's been to Europe, South America, the Caribbean, all over the USA, Mexico, Canada. Time for rest.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Making Amends in Austin
Step 9 of the the 12 Steps involves Making Amends. When I was in Austin recently I recalled some past problems/embarrassments/unfinished business. I had the sense that now was the time to make things right in whatever way that was available.
Dinner was Friday night at Pelon's, which as old Austinites will remember, Jaime's Spanish Village, on Red River. In 1984 or so, a group of us went there for dinner. As we had just turned 19, the legal drinking age, we proceeded to order a round of beer and margaritas. The waiter, seeing us as barely legal, asked for ID. We grudgingly gave it to him, even thought we had it.
After he left one of the table said "No tip for you!" Since the die was cast, we all agreed at the end to pay the $75.00 bill and we left a quarter on the table for a gratutuious... snub. As we were leaving, the angry waiter chased us out and threw the quarter at us, saying "Here, you left this on the table!"
This time the service was truly bad and our food was late. The manager did comp the $160.00 bill. But I insisted myself on paying the 25% tip to our waiter. I hope that might have made amends to any servers I have stiffed.
On Sunday, I visited the grave of my uncle Vernon. As I was leaving I called my aunt Sharon who was married to him for 25 years. I had lost touch with her after their bitter divorce and splitting of the family along such lines. But when I had seen my cousin Deborah recently, I got Sharon's number.
Even thought I had not talked to her in years, we picked right back up and planned to get together to visit the next time. I felt that I had taken some action to recharge that relationship. I hope that might make amends to any relative or friend that I have forgotten about.
On Monday, I played golf at Jimmy Clay. One of the last times I remember being there was 1983 in the High School District Championship. A front of rain blew in and I was unprepared, wearing only short and a shirt. I was cold and wet and it affected the game.
On this new day, the weather was threatening to be the same. I was unprepared again. This time, I thought, I must do something different and went inside to buy a jacket, whether I needed it or not, I was going to have it this time. I wore it the first 9 holes and it kept be warm and dry. I hope that might make amends for other times I was unprepared for the weather.
Taking all of these at face value, you could say that I was just doing the right thing. But in my mind, it was the past flashing back where I might not have known enough to do good. Those memories were in mind as I was able to proceed in what today I was confident was a better way.
Dinner was Friday night at Pelon's, which as old Austinites will remember, Jaime's Spanish Village, on Red River. In 1984 or so, a group of us went there for dinner. As we had just turned 19, the legal drinking age, we proceeded to order a round of beer and margaritas. The waiter, seeing us as barely legal, asked for ID. We grudgingly gave it to him, even thought we had it.
After he left one of the table said "No tip for you!" Since the die was cast, we all agreed at the end to pay the $75.00 bill and we left a quarter on the table for a gratutuious... snub. As we were leaving, the angry waiter chased us out and threw the quarter at us, saying "Here, you left this on the table!"
This time the service was truly bad and our food was late. The manager did comp the $160.00 bill. But I insisted myself on paying the 25% tip to our waiter. I hope that might have made amends to any servers I have stiffed.
On Sunday, I visited the grave of my uncle Vernon. As I was leaving I called my aunt Sharon who was married to him for 25 years. I had lost touch with her after their bitter divorce and splitting of the family along such lines. But when I had seen my cousin Deborah recently, I got Sharon's number.
Even thought I had not talked to her in years, we picked right back up and planned to get together to visit the next time. I felt that I had taken some action to recharge that relationship. I hope that might make amends to any relative or friend that I have forgotten about.
On Monday, I played golf at Jimmy Clay. One of the last times I remember being there was 1983 in the High School District Championship. A front of rain blew in and I was unprepared, wearing only short and a shirt. I was cold and wet and it affected the game.
On this new day, the weather was threatening to be the same. I was unprepared again. This time, I thought, I must do something different and went inside to buy a jacket, whether I needed it or not, I was going to have it this time. I wore it the first 9 holes and it kept be warm and dry. I hope that might make amends for other times I was unprepared for the weather.
Taking all of these at face value, you could say that I was just doing the right thing. But in my mind, it was the past flashing back where I might not have known enough to do good. Those memories were in mind as I was able to proceed in what today I was confident was a better way.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Coming up on May 20
It's late at night, the NBA playoffs are on, and it seems that there is not enough time to get ready. On the eve of Sarah's graduation, its like 1994 all over again when she was born. The same feelings of getting ready, not enough preparation, and it's here already. Very strong sense of having been here before.
Who could have predicted all of the things that have happened since that Thursday night/Friday morning? Not me. Happy 22nd birthday Sarah. You've brought Mom and me much joy and we look forward to the future with you.
Who could have predicted all of the things that have happened since that Thursday night/Friday morning? Not me. Happy 22nd birthday Sarah. You've brought Mom and me much joy and we look forward to the future with you.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Uplifting
While talking about my new book Hideaway, I was asked "What's next?" I replied that I wanted to write a book about a woman having a midlife crisis. This wisecracking man said sarcastically "That sounds uplifting." His wife seemed interested however.
It got me thinking, I guess I am more interested in writing on the struggles without an easy answer. But I did think that my blog here does have a lot of uplifting stories, my favorite of course being "We'll Always Have Paris" but also good stories of skinny dipping at Tarry House, Christmas Lights, Another Successful Recommendation, and so on.
Do I need to lighten up?
It got me thinking, I guess I am more interested in writing on the struggles without an easy answer. But I did think that my blog here does have a lot of uplifting stories, my favorite of course being "We'll Always Have Paris" but also good stories of skinny dipping at Tarry House, Christmas Lights, Another Successful Recommendation, and so on.
Do I need to lighten up?
Monday, April 11, 2016
Eulogy for Sam Rush
This was done by Sam's daughter Sarah Rush - March 25, 2016. The best I've heard
You all know what it is like to experience my father’s kindness as friends, maybe even friends who are like family, but you haven’t experienced the honor it is to be his daughter. He has guided my every day, his dreams for me lead me into the future and his compassion for others is what I will forever aspire to.
The man that you all have known, is one who is a gatherer of people, with seemingly endless energy, and an ability to connect continuously to the people around him. But this, few people might have noticed about my dear father: He was an introvert at heart. With an even more introspective mind. He was most comfortable sitting in his spot at the end of the sofa and listening to audiobooks, going on long runs alone, and sitting in silence beside you – listening rather than talking, asking rather than telling. He appreciated Gandhi’s words, “speak only if it improves upon the silence.” He took so much time considering his presence in a room, in the questions he asked, and in the ideas that he brought. “Live intentionally,” he’d tell me.
But he pushed himself to reach out to others, to make connections, even though it did not come easily to him. I didn’t really understand this about him until I was in was in high school, exasperated with the task of hosting party after party every other weekend at our house. I’d ask him, why do we always invite people, why can’t we have a weekend or a vacation just with each other? He said, “Honestly, I’d rather spend the weekend just the four of us. But I admire each person and what they create. We have so much we can learn from our friends.” I am so glad to have shared him with all of you, for now I have many friends. Father, I will extend my hand as you have always done, even when it isn’t easy. I will continue to invite the world in.
At gatherings of friends or family, he would always single out the children and give them the love and attention he gave to my brother and I. I saw the surprise and awe on a child’s face when they realized he was actually interested to know about their lives, their passions, and their aspirations. While adults look down at, or talk about the children in a room, he talked directly to them. I have distinct images of him getting down on one knee to meet a child eye-to-eye, as an equal. That always impressed me about him, because I too, fail to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of children. He built friendships with children, because I believe that he himself was child-like – believing in ideas, all of the possibilities that life offers, and, believing in love. “Children are the truth,” he’d say. He believed that talking to a child is like talking to our creator.
My dad believed that appreciating nature brought him closer to God. He knew that a god who created so much beauty would want it to be appreciated. That is what my dad did every day, from sunrise to sunset. He wanted my brother and I to have a childhood that was so green and full of life, like his own childhood, vibrant with the fruits of god’s creation. He furnished our lives, not with furniture or things, but with living breathing creatures that you form a relationship with. My childhood was filled with days in the outdoors – “god’s playground” – he’d call it.
I will miss being with him to watch the sun rise, to play volleyball in the dark after the sun sets, to stand at the top of a mountain peak together in winter, to read books together on the porch while the tall pine trees sway around us. I will miss riding horses together through cypress creek. But for me, he will exist in every tree, every warm gust of wind, in each leaf. When I go for a run, he will now be just a voice in my head, coaching me as he sees me struggling, “Thank your body, Sarah - thank your legs, thank your lungs, thank your heart.” And I will continue.
He believed in the gift of challenges, big and small. He’d say, when you don’t have challenges in your life, you have to create challenges for yourself. He inspired countless friends to bike in the MS 150, in the Ironman races, in the Houston Marathon, to go snowboarding, or horseback riding with him. Not because he needed a partner, but because he knew that we could do it. He has faith in our strength. He wants to see us succeed. I’ve been blessed to have his firm, but gentle pressure at my back – urging me to try harder, be better. I am better because of it. I think back on the hundreds of times he has asked me, “wanna go for a run?” with that fire in his eye, and I become inspired. I see passion in his steps. He made me believe. Believe in myself, and believe in him. I follow him.
One of the great lessons I learn from my dad is humility. He would be astounded by how many of you have said; 'Sam has changed me for the better.' We all know he would immediately turn the compliment back onto you, saying, 'YOU my dear friend, you are the one who has changed ME for the better!' And I do believe that he has held a piece of knowledge from of each one of you in his daily thoughts, actions and interactions. He has taught me how to appreciate others first, even before yourself. He’d tell my brother and I throughout our lives, “your success is my success. Through you, I succeed.” And now, that will always be true. Father, I am everything you are—I am you. Everything that you are, I have always wanted to be. I cant believe that you are gone, and so I won’t believe it. I will remember you, and you will act through me. Through me, you will see the world. Through me, you will continue learning and growing. Through me, you will continue touching lives. And through you, I will do my most loving work. I will care deeply for others. Through you, I will see the very best in others and encourage them to see what I see – what I know what you would have seen as well. Through me, I hope you see, breathe, love, laugh, again.
--Sarah Rush, Eulogy given at Celebration of Life at Prince of Peace Catholic Community, Tuesday March 29, 2016
You all know what it is like to experience my father’s kindness as friends, maybe even friends who are like family, but you haven’t experienced the honor it is to be his daughter. He has guided my every day, his dreams for me lead me into the future and his compassion for others is what I will forever aspire to.
The man that you all have known, is one who is a gatherer of people, with seemingly endless energy, and an ability to connect continuously to the people around him. But this, few people might have noticed about my dear father: He was an introvert at heart. With an even more introspective mind. He was most comfortable sitting in his spot at the end of the sofa and listening to audiobooks, going on long runs alone, and sitting in silence beside you – listening rather than talking, asking rather than telling. He appreciated Gandhi’s words, “speak only if it improves upon the silence.” He took so much time considering his presence in a room, in the questions he asked, and in the ideas that he brought. “Live intentionally,” he’d tell me.
But he pushed himself to reach out to others, to make connections, even though it did not come easily to him. I didn’t really understand this about him until I was in was in high school, exasperated with the task of hosting party after party every other weekend at our house. I’d ask him, why do we always invite people, why can’t we have a weekend or a vacation just with each other? He said, “Honestly, I’d rather spend the weekend just the four of us. But I admire each person and what they create. We have so much we can learn from our friends.” I am so glad to have shared him with all of you, for now I have many friends. Father, I will extend my hand as you have always done, even when it isn’t easy. I will continue to invite the world in.
At gatherings of friends or family, he would always single out the children and give them the love and attention he gave to my brother and I. I saw the surprise and awe on a child’s face when they realized he was actually interested to know about their lives, their passions, and their aspirations. While adults look down at, or talk about the children in a room, he talked directly to them. I have distinct images of him getting down on one knee to meet a child eye-to-eye, as an equal. That always impressed me about him, because I too, fail to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of children. He built friendships with children, because I believe that he himself was child-like – believing in ideas, all of the possibilities that life offers, and, believing in love. “Children are the truth,” he’d say. He believed that talking to a child is like talking to our creator.
My dad believed that appreciating nature brought him closer to God. He knew that a god who created so much beauty would want it to be appreciated. That is what my dad did every day, from sunrise to sunset. He wanted my brother and I to have a childhood that was so green and full of life, like his own childhood, vibrant with the fruits of god’s creation. He furnished our lives, not with furniture or things, but with living breathing creatures that you form a relationship with. My childhood was filled with days in the outdoors – “god’s playground” – he’d call it.
I will miss being with him to watch the sun rise, to play volleyball in the dark after the sun sets, to stand at the top of a mountain peak together in winter, to read books together on the porch while the tall pine trees sway around us. I will miss riding horses together through cypress creek. But for me, he will exist in every tree, every warm gust of wind, in each leaf. When I go for a run, he will now be just a voice in my head, coaching me as he sees me struggling, “Thank your body, Sarah - thank your legs, thank your lungs, thank your heart.” And I will continue.
He believed in the gift of challenges, big and small. He’d say, when you don’t have challenges in your life, you have to create challenges for yourself. He inspired countless friends to bike in the MS 150, in the Ironman races, in the Houston Marathon, to go snowboarding, or horseback riding with him. Not because he needed a partner, but because he knew that we could do it. He has faith in our strength. He wants to see us succeed. I’ve been blessed to have his firm, but gentle pressure at my back – urging me to try harder, be better. I am better because of it. I think back on the hundreds of times he has asked me, “wanna go for a run?” with that fire in his eye, and I become inspired. I see passion in his steps. He made me believe. Believe in myself, and believe in him. I follow him.
One of the great lessons I learn from my dad is humility. He would be astounded by how many of you have said; 'Sam has changed me for the better.' We all know he would immediately turn the compliment back onto you, saying, 'YOU my dear friend, you are the one who has changed ME for the better!' And I do believe that he has held a piece of knowledge from of each one of you in his daily thoughts, actions and interactions. He has taught me how to appreciate others first, even before yourself. He’d tell my brother and I throughout our lives, “your success is my success. Through you, I succeed.” And now, that will always be true. Father, I am everything you are—I am you. Everything that you are, I have always wanted to be. I cant believe that you are gone, and so I won’t believe it. I will remember you, and you will act through me. Through me, you will see the world. Through me, you will continue learning and growing. Through me, you will continue touching lives. And through you, I will do my most loving work. I will care deeply for others. Through you, I will see the very best in others and encourage them to see what I see – what I know what you would have seen as well. Through me, I hope you see, breathe, love, laugh, again.
--Sarah Rush, Eulogy given at Celebration of Life at Prince of Peace Catholic Community, Tuesday March 29, 2016
Amen Corner
They say the Masters doesn't start until the back 9 of Sunday, and holes 11,12 and 13 always play their part - Amen Corner. This year 2016 was no exception. Jordan Spieth enters a mysterious club - because while we remember the winners, someone always seems to lose the Masters. This was his year to lose, but at least he's already won it.
The list of those who lost is a who's who of golf
Ken Venturi - shot 80 in the last round
Arnold Palmer - made a double bogey on the last hole
Roberto Di Vicenzo - signed a wrong scorecard
Ed Sneed - missed a short putt in the playoff
Scott Hoch - missed a short putt in the playoff
Greg Norman - lost a 6 shot lead
And now we have 2 others:
While anyone can lose, its all about regrouping. Here's to good things in the future for all those who have had a chance but for whatever reason, it was not in the cards that day.
As David Cook says, your golf score is not a reflection of your worth.
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