A September 11 Story

      When Vern and I were going together, he belonged to a Golf League on Saturday mornings, in season, he played golf. When we got married and lived on Western Avenue he continued in the League and often on Sundays would play with my cousin, Ben Martin at Madison Park Golf Course. Then we moved out to Maxwell Road by the airport and started having children, Vern's golf outings then mostly were on vacation in Missouri with B-I-L, Claude Young. When most of the children were born, he was working either second or third shift at Caterpillar and he felt he didn't see the daughters enough so he gave up the Golf League.
      Every year we would watch the Bing Crosby Pro-Am at Pebble Beach, California and he would often say: "Someday I want to play that course!" Considering what our costs were raising six children, that was a pretty far fetched dream. When Mary and Gregg moved to San Jose, we drove over to Seventeen Mile Drive one time and stopped at the Course and he walked out on the eighteenth green and said: "Someday I'm going to play this course!" Just walking onto that fabled course touched his golfer's soul. By this time, there was just Leah at home and he and Keith Lee were working first shift and playing golf regularly at Peoria, Pekin or Eureka. He retired from Cat in 1990 and he and Keith started playing at Pine Lakes and again on Monday mornings played in the Senior Golf League. He really loved the camaraderie with this group of men.

       In 2001, Mary and Gregg had started their Travel Agency and she told Vern that she could get a comp reservation to play at Pebble Beach. The only way you can make a tee time is to be staying at the resort. So we flew out to San Jose with the idea of him playing golf and then driving a rental car down to San Diego to visit Alissa and family. His tee time was 10:10 a.m. on September 10th, 2001. Our room was lovely, great toiletries. We had dinner at the Lodge overlooking the eighteenth hole the evening before.

      The next morning, we were up early and had breakfast at a little upstairs diner on the property and our aide - we were assigned one when we arrived - came by and and took us over to the practice green to wait until his tee time. Vern was walking the course and they allowed me to follow along in the golf cart, so that I could take pictures and just watch this exciting day for him. He had hired a caddy for the day. His foursome included a father and son. The son lived in the area and his father was visiting him from out East. Vern's partner was a man from England. He and his wife were on their honeymoon and the round of golf at Pebble Beach was her wedding gift to him.        

   I don't think Vern walked the course that day, but floated a little above ground.  His dream had come true.  Whenever he would come to the cart to get a club and no matter what the previous shot, he was grinning from ear to ear.  I don't know what the final score was  - maybe one of the daughters can remember - but it was respectable.  When he played the eighteenth hole, I called Mary, she E-mailed her sisters and because of a satellite they could watch their dad play that hole.  What a grand day that was and the next day the World changed forever.

  The rest of the story......When he was done, we checked out and headed South towards San Diego.  We spent the night in Paso Robles.  The next morning, Vern went into the bathroom to shave.  Still in bed, I turned on the TV.  Katie Couric was talking about a plane hitting one of the twin towers and as they were talking, the second plane hit.  I told Vern, he came out of the bathroom and we watched for a few minutes.  Then called the girls.  At that point, no one was sure what was happening and they suggested we take the the High Desert Route and avoid Los Angeles.  We did and arrived at Alissas in the afternoon. We could not get a flight out of San Diego and started back to
Illinois in our rental car.  Friday, the day we
started back, was the National Day of Mourning.  As we came through Las Vegas
All of the outside of the Casinos were dark.
The lights were on inside the buildings so
people walking along the streets looked
like silhouettes.  Vern didn't want to stop in Vegas because he didn't feel it was a safe place so we
drove quite awhile before we found a place for the night.
   

  This picture shows Vern contemplating his next drive off the tee at Pebble.  I like to think that's what he's doing now, playing an eternal round at a spectacular course, hitting straight down the middle.