Last night Mark was talking about turning 50. He loves to golf. Golfs every chance he can get. He enrolls in as many tournaments that I allow and works daily to get his handicap as low as possible. I will NEVER forget his first tournament. I don't know what his handicap was, but I know it was in the double digits. I couldn't believe that he had signed up for a tournament. He's always been fearless that way. He's a go-for-it kind of guy, whereas I'll plan and plan and plan and then not do a dang thing about it. All talk - no action. Yep. That's me.
The morning of the tournament arrived. Clubs were clean and organized in his golf bag. The bag was loaded with PLENTY of balls and tees to get him through the hazards. Mark showered and I set his clothes out. Mark is known to wear long johns, shorts, work boots and sweatshirt. It is MANDATORY that I monitor his "I'm-going-out-in-public" wardrobe. I kissed him for luck and sent him on his way.
He had the time of his life. Didn't win. Didn't place. Teed up on the first hole, waggled the club, swung a couple of practice swings, stepped up to the ball, swung with all his might...and whiffed it. Stepped up to the ball AGAIN and officially began his golf tournament. He enjoyed his golfing companions and loved the pristine condition of the course.
At the course yesterday, it was brought to Mark's attention that he will be golfing tournaments this year as a Senior. What? We aren't seniors. Did I say that loud enough? WE AREN'T SENIORS! Ugh. All the age, all the DENIAL of age hit him upside the head and landed him smack dab in the middle of reality.
Years ago, I read Tuesdays With Morrie. Loved it. Morrie knew he was going to die from ALS and decided to hold a "living" funeral for himself. He felt it was "unfair" that we aren't around to hear what the people we love say about us.
Mitch Album wrote:
The New Year came and went. Although he never said it to anyone, Morrie knew this would be the last year of his life. He was using a wheelchair now, and he was fighting time to say all the things he wanted to say to all the people he loved. When a colleague at Brandeis died suddenly of a heart attack, Morrie went to his funeral. He came home depressed.
"What a waste," he said. "All those people saying all those wonderful things, and Irv never got to hear any of it."
Morrie had a better idea. He made some calls. He chose a date. And on a cold Sunday afternoon, he was joined in his home by a small group of friends and family for a "living funeral." Each of them spoke and paid tribute to my old professor. Some cried. Some laughed. One woman read a poem:
"My dear and loving cousin ...Your ageless heart as you move through time, layer on layer, tender sequoia ..."
Morrie cried and laughed with them. And all the heartfelt things we never get to say to those we love, Morrie said that day. His "living funeral" was a rousing success.
Only Morrie wasn't dead yet. In fact, the most unusual part of his life was about to unfold.
I think about this now. I think about age and the pros and cons that are attached to it. It's okay that Mark is turning 50. I suppose that it's okay that I'm right behind him in the age department.
I think about Mark's first tournament. I laugh with him about whiffing the ball and how embarrassed he was and how he shook it off and told the guys in the group "Well, glad I got that out of the way" and continued to play the 18 holes and continued to laugh and joke with the group while simply being proud of himself for doing the "unheard of" for him.
I have stepped up to my own ball a few times. I have whiffed it more than once. In fact, I continue to do so at times. I'm frustrated with my inability to learn from some of my mistakes and create a better game for myself. I'll take the lessons that Mark has taught me and I'll put the mistakes behind me. I'll enjoy the sun on my shoulders and the camaraderie of those around me. I long to live my life so that those standing at my funeral have good things to say about me.
"Everyone knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it.... So we kid ourselves about death.... But there's a better approach. To know you're going to die, and to be prepared for it at any time....Do what the Buddhists do...ask, Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?”
I think Morrie had it right.
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