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  • Yes, I was forty years old once. Hard to beleive huh? Maybe not.. I guess it depends on the reader, a bit.
    but, I was forty and so I went with my friend and mentor, Irv Goldbloom to play golf on that day.

    Irv had it all .. A great Game, a young wife, more money than I ever will see, and Cancer.. BAD.. But, if Irv was anything, he was really tenacious, a no nonsense man's man and I loved him.

    It was on the 8th hole, short par three, 160 yrds, but at his course, the narrow approaches, the trees, wind, water and a bat-shit WW 2 Camoflage specialist-golf course designer, all reeked havoc on the unwary, the stupid and the plain unlucky who took this layout casually.

    "Irv, I said, while we were waiting to get on the Tee, "Im Forty today.. The time seems to have gone by so fast."
    Irv looked up at me and with a Stephen Hawking squak box replied,
    "Shut the fuck up, last night I went to bed and I was 64."
    His gaze returned to his contemplation of the upcoming shot.

    Irv was 82, played 1 over... ONE OVER...! Still blows me away..
    A hundred and ten pounds wet, with winter clothes on and he gets up on the Tee , settles while taking a breath and relooking,carefully at his shot he hasn't hit yet and draws back slowly but even and comes forward at about the same speed....
    "TING" The little white sparrow arcs through the open space , suspended by the good graces of Saint Micheal, he is on the green, 15' feet from the cup with back spin and I hear some sludge coming up his throat, that 20 years ago would have been the F-word.. Like he wanted in the hole... ( He propably did)

    I get up and try to relax.. Not happening.. Im forty, he's 8000 yrs old.... my eyes , mind , body personal history , bussiness are all there as I let out a practice swing..

    I hear some choking blip spurt outloud as if he can hear all the crap that is destroying what little sense of "golf" I have, and that Can't be good for me..

    I set, soften my grip and follow the 271 rules I should be doing in order to have success.

    ""Clink, boing,bang, some quails are flushed out of the trees above a steep ravine filled with poison oak, as I kiss off that 5 dollar ball, again, as it sails off into never-land.. I want to excavate the the course, chain saw everything green that grows, I want... I want.. to exhume the body of Madrid Fitzpatrick and kill him .. forever.

    "Hey Hop, Know why I like playing golf with you?" mechanically rolls out of Irv."

    I am still pissed at myself , saying all the right things to assuage my mental pain that is trying to find a weak cell wall somewhere in my brain,, while I process the question.

    I gather myself with a smile and a laugh while responding..

    "My good looks, witty reparte, winning luck at every card game you can name ?

    He never changes his expression and has the patience of hell.

    "Because YOU SUCK" he says with a echoing twitter like a back feed loop at a Mega Death concert.
    He walks away to go collect his par and me?

    Well, let me say, my game never really went anywhere except worse, but of all the people I could walk that course with, or anywhere, I would still choose Irv. He was great! He was a friend, and he choose me too.

    Thanks for the thoughts of Rain, Ray your May 28th.
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