Veteran’s Day Appreciation
When I was younger, I didn’t realize the full meaning of Veteran’s Day. Yeah, I knew what it was all about. I knew the reason for it. But, despite having a father who was a veteran of the Vietnam War, I was still in the dark as far as the meaning of Veteran’s Day to actual veterans as well as the active military.
But over time, especially considering the events of the past ten years, I’ve grown to understand more fully the effect of Veteran’s Day. But for me, it was never more understood than when I began to meet some of the veterans face-to-face.
Though my experience was not golf-related, being in the golf-blogging world, I have gotten to learn about several of the charitable organizations related to veterans. Organizations such as Wounded Warriors Project as well as the golf-related Bunkers in Baghdad have given inspiration, help and hope to both wounded veterans as well as the active military still hard at work overseas.
Though I’ve gained some understanding of the meaning of these organizations to the veterans themselves by reading many of the comments from both the organizers and veterans alike, you can’t quite get the full effect unless you hear it directly from the horse’s mouth.
I was fortunate enough to gain this perspective a month ago while assisting my wife at a local fair. Setting up a booth to help raise money for her Wear Red Fridays campaign, I had the opportunity to meet many veterans, as well as their friends and family, who stopped by the booth either to purchase a t-shirt, donate money or just give thanks for the support. It’s from the veterans and active military that you can really understand what the support of others means to them.
So this Veteran’s Day, keep in mind the reason this holiday exists in the first place. Unfortunately, it sometimes seems more like a reason for a car dealership to promote a “sale.” But if you take a minute to speak to one of our brave servicemen or women, you will gain a better understanding of the appreciation they have for the support of the people for whom they are serving.
Swing ’til you’re happy!
The PGA, WWE or A Three Ring Circus?
Every so often I like to check in and see what is going on in the professional world of golf. It never ceases to amaze me the crap that actually happens. I get the feeling the PGA operates in a world of it’s own. I know, I know…sad.
Ladies, Let Your Man Golf!
Oh My God!! I’ve had enough! If someone doesn’t take my husband golfing soon I’m going to have a conniption!
This is Jenn, aka Mrs. Stinky Golfer Chris. I’m taking over his post to plead for anyone to step forward and get my husband on a golf course. Better yet, take him on a golf trip! All year I’ve had to listen to him complain about how he hasn’t had the chance to golf much this year. And with the recent snow storm here in the northeast, it’s been even worse!
Granted, for the most part he didn’t get to play as much as he normally would. It was just one of those years. It seemed like every weekend there was simply something that needed to be done. Be it a kids soccer game, baseball game, someones birthday party, family gathering or my photography business…something was always getting in his way.
But if that wasn’t bad enough, we have a freak, record-setting snowstorm in October, normally his last month to guarantee golf. November is always hit or miss. And this November, between my trip back home to visit family in Colorado, the clean up of downed branches and power outages due to the storm, we’re not off to a good start.
He keeps talking about a couple of newly public courses that he wanted to get to this year. He’s also mentioned how it’s been a few years since his last golf trip. Are there any other golf wives dealing with this?
Being that I work in the golf industry, I’m well aware that many golf courses are in some financial trouble. I’m also well aware that not as many people are playing golf as in previous years. It’s one of the reasons my husband and his stinky golfer buddies are doing what they’re doing. So with that being said, I can’t imagine I’m the only golf wife who has to listen to their husband complaining.
So ladies, for the sake of your husband as well as your own sanity, don’t keep your husband away from the game he loves. Get him out there. Make him go play. Tell him to take a golf trip. Or else you have to go through the winter months listening to him complain. And what’s worse? Having him disappear for a few hours every weekend or so? Or listening to him whine like a little girl all winter long?
Ladies, let your husband swing ’til he’s happy!
What’s Your Most Interesting Golf Story?
One of your golf bio questions on Golfstinks.com (yes, you have your own golf bio when you become a member) is “what’s your most interesting golf experience.” Well, we’ve been getting some pretty good stories from the members thus far and wanted to open this up to our blog community too.
Let me break the ice by telling my very true tale…
It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend 2001. A few friends of mine (one of which would later be known as Stinky Golfer Chris) were on a puddle jumper going from Charlotte to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. The plan was as follows: Land. Play 18-holes. Eat. Sleep. Play 36-holes. Eat. Sleep. Play 9-holes. Fly back to Connecticut so we could get a good night’s sleep before work on Monday (as you could see, there really wasn’t much time to spare).
So we landed. We played 18-holes at Shipyard Golf Club and since not many people were out on the course that day, we actually finished our round earlier than expected. With daylight to spare, we headed back to the oceanfront condo (Stinky Golfer Chris’ rich uncle let us crash at his summer place) to do a little boogie-boarding before dinner.
So there we were – our foursome splashing and playing in the surf like 6-year-olds – when a wave knocked me off my boogie-board and I fell backwards into the water. I was close to the beach and the water was only about three feet deep. My right hand found the sandy bottom and then it happened – a sharp stabbing pain between my thumb and index finger.
At first, I had no idea what hit me. But I was bleeding from a half-inch gash on top of my hand which seemed to be pretty deep. The pain was pretty bad too. On top of the cut itself hurting, the salt water was making matters worse.
My initial thought was I hit a sharp rock, or perhaps a crab pinched me. But then I felt it – a sting ray brushed by my leg and I was fairly certain that’s what got me. “Oh God, aren’t those things poisonous?” I thought to myself. It’s a good thing the Steve Irwin incident hadn’t happened yet otherwise I would have been freaking out.
By now I was trudging to the beach as fast as I could, worried that my bleeding hand was chumming the water for Great Whites. Despite screaming “AHHHH” when it first happened, none of my foursome seemed particularly concerned about the Jaws scene unfolding in front of them. I distinctly remember one of them still laying out on a beach chair when I pulled myself ashore.
By now it was dinner time, and that (not my throbbing and still bleeding) hand seemed to be the priority. “Sure, I’ll man-up and go to dinner with you guys. Let me just ice-it, wrap-it and we can go” I told them. And that’s what I did. Iced it for about 15 minutes, wrapped it in some gauze (still bleeding, and now slightly discolored in a purplish hue) and off we went to the Outback Steakhouse.
Towards the end of dinner, I announced the pain wasn’t letting up any. I could tell this annoyed them as they had their hearts set on a few more Foster’s before heading home. But when I showed them it was still bleeding – 3 hours later, I think they finally realized they needed to deal with my bitching.
So off to the emergency room we went, where I explained to the nurse what happened. She took one look and exclaimed, “Yep, that was a Stingy. Basically you have two choices. You can stay here and we’ll admit you overnight or you can go home and submerge it in hot water.”
Hot water? I was icing the freaking thing! Turns out hot water (as hot as you can stand it) draws the toxin out (which from the sting ray, by the way, is not fatal – Mr. Irwin died because it stung him in the heart). In addition to the hot water, I needed to visit a medical center the next day to have a doctor see if I needed stitches or antibiotics or both. Crap – there goes one of our tee-times.
The guys were cool though – they came to the doctor’s with me (we missed our morning round) and fortunately, I didn’t need stitches (I did get antibiotics though). Even better, since it was on the top of my hand, it didn’t interfere with my swing! We finished our stay on Hilton Head playing at the beautiful Palmetto Dunes and even more alluring Sea Pines.
A decade later I still have the scar, and the skin around it is still slightly discolored. But, a few years ago, I was at a restaurant that had sting ray on the menu…revenge never tasted so good.
So, what’s your story?
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