Raging in Georgia, Part III

Saturday was absolutely wonderful. Young SGT had made a tee time for us at Ft. Benning; you have no idea what a treat it was for me to golf in March. It would have been nice if the temperature had been up a little, but I’m not complaining. Honest to God, I had one of the most consistent games I’ve ever played, and I have a theory about that. I’m figurin’ that what body parts haven’t been sliced and diced, are most certainly getting’ creaky, and it’s slowed my swing down- I have to be very deliberate. The result is that almost every shot I made was right in the middle of the fairway.



My son had a hilarious incident- well, Diana and I thought it was hysterical, I’m not sure Young SGT was quite as amused. He’s got a bit of a slice, and one shot ended up in a tree. Normally it drops out, or bounces away or something, but never have I seen a golf ball look more like a pinball. It hit one branch, then another, and another, and just ping-ponged itself down the tree in slow motion. Once it landed, it rolled over to the cart path and, just like it did in the tree, zigzagged back and forth across the path, bouncing side to side until it finally stopped right by the women’s tee box. The whole thing took probably close to two minutes, and by this time Diana and I are howling with laughter and my son just keeps repeating, “WTF! No way! WTF!”. I wish I had thought to grab my camera and filmed it- just one of those things you would have to see to believe.

DISCLAIMER: RAGING MOM IS IN NO WAY, SHAPE OR FORM A RACIST. SHE IS, HOWEVER, FROM HICKSVILLE NORTH!

I had to say that, because we had lunch at the clubhouse and were the only white folks in there. Excuse me if it sounds…whatever…but you just don’t see black gentlemen on the golf courses up here in the sticks. You actually don’t see a whole lot of black folks period, but the clubhouse scenario made me feel like I was having a “Well my goodness, Henry, would you look at that!” moment. I am such a hayseed at times.

We drove around for awhile afterwards, then went home so I could make my daughter-in-law apple pie. Excuse me, that’s Apple Pie™ and you don’t need a fork, you drink it. Not my best ever batch, but it did make me glow a little. Young SGT grilled out, then after dinner we headed over to a local bar, Bill’s Pub. What a dive- I was in heaven! Again, the regulars in there didn’t talk to us or anything, but the bartender was pretty nice and I hope she put the tip money we left aside for her denture fund. The entertainment for the evening was Kamikaze Karaoke; whatever song comes up randomly is what you have to sing. It was friggin’ hilarious, because these folks either COULDN’T sing or really thought they were God’s Gift and weren’t.



It’s probably a good thing we didn’t stay too long. Knowing me, I would’ve had a few more beers and thought getting up there to sing was a good idea- and trust me, in my case it NEVER is- and then I would’ve got my Yankee ass whupped.

My son was good enough to make breakfast before I had to leave for the airport on Sunday. Diana dropped me off and other than having a few young lads with short haircuts ask for a light off my cigarette (Yep, they got my matches before I left) I had an unremarkable trip home. The kids were more than gracious while I was there, and I so enjoyed getting away for awhile.

Oh, and my son was good enough to let me get a new picture of him in his uniform:



Oh yeah. I’m proud.