Although my father-in-law retired after a distinguished career, he was known for his modesty and pride in his Brooklyn heritage. He took up golf with a vengeance, but never quite caught up with his buddies.
Then, one day, he made a hole in one. He mentioned it in two letters. When he asked us in the third letter, “Did I tell you I got a hole in one?” I had to do something. I sat down after the children went to bed and wrote this poem:
This was no day to sweep and scrub, Mom was at the Browning Club
Pop, he was not in the tub, nor painting house, nor at the pub
But on the links – aye there’s the rub.
No duffer he, with skill he’s played, though many times he’s often prayed
Not for gold, or pearls or jade, nor to be more highly paid,
Not even a VW bus or maid,
But to restore the gloire of the family name. There was Nathaniel of whaling fame
And Ralph, whose wife is a grande dame, and Although Walter was not tame
He wanted Arnold to respect his game.
So up he strode, up to the tee, said, “Hey, youse guys, now you watch me.”
One mighty drive; not two, not three, up up it went—ah floating free
Then gone from sight. They all said “gee.”
They sought the ball, took the lay of the land. They searched the rough; the trap of sand.
But it was in the cup!! How grand! They said, “Walter, let us shake your hand.”
He said, “It’s exactly as I planned.
I’m not a man to be outdone. At every sport I’ve always won
At basketball, how I could run. At anything, I have good fun,
And at last, I’ve shot a hole in one.”
He enjoyed many rounds of golf until shortly after his wife died, when he fell on the golf course. The serious injuries that he sustained brought on Alzheimer’s with a vengeance.