This was a weekend with two memorial services, 330 miles and 25 hours apart. A tale of two cities (Chicago and Detroit), if you will. While I certainly had two different groups I could write about, this isn’t really about either of those gatherings.
Driving to Chicago for my uncle’s (Gail Frank Meintzer) funeral, I’d toyed with the idea of several group photos (taken on the same day, I believe) containing one of my grandaunts. What could I determine about that group and the others in the photos? It was a very nebulous idea. I hadn’t located the photos, or started typing.
After one funeral, a Werther’s candy, 2 tequila sunrises, a really good lunch, and lots of reminiscing and stories, I was in the motel room pondering where/how to start writing this week’s blog.
It occurred to me that groups are also clubs. Then I remembered the conversation I’d just had with my cousin, Doug, about our dads. We swapped snippets of stories when our paths crossed at the restaurant.
Dad (Robert William Haws) and Uncle Gail were brothers-in-law. They were five years apart in age, too much of a gap to hang out together when they were in school. While I wouldn’t call them peas in a pod, they were very much alike, and always had a good time together. Both loved golf, so in retirement, Mom and Dad would drive to Wisconsin for a visit. Dad and Gail would golf; Mom and Neva would go to garage sales and flea markets. Everyone was happy as clams.
In the passing conversation with Doug, he asked me if I knew my dad made golf clubs? I was like, “Really?” He related that my dad made a putter for his dad, and that his dad always used that putter after that. My guess is that the putter worked well, or Uncle Gail would have returned to his other putter. He wouldn’t have suffered a lousy golf score, just to save my dad’s feelings. Well, maybe if Dad was in town to visit . . .
Doug continued on, saying that when his dad hung up his golf bag for good 15 September 2016, he gave his clubs to Doug, who still uses that putter, and thinks of my dad every round he plays.
As I mulled over the story in the motel room, I realized I did know he made some clubs. It was one of those throwaway conversations when one of us was visiting the other. I was probably distracted by kids, cooking, thinking about yard work I needed to do—or the projects I had planned for him to tackle! The information went in one ear and out the other at the time, not settling in my brain very long. Over 12+ years, that memory had buried itself well, until Doug stirred it up.
Mike remembered Dad having Golfsmith catalogs (bankrupt in 2016 and bought up by Dick’s Sporting Goods) around the house. He ordered what he needed to repair some of his clubs, plus made a putter for himself. It apparently was a good putter, so he either
- Ordered parts to make one for Gail OR
- Brought his putter to Wisconsin the next time, so Gail could try it out
My bet is on the latter, because then Dad would know how long the club shaft needed to be. Did Gail know ahead of time that Dad was making him one? Maybe. Maybe not. If Dad could figure out the length and keep it a surprise, I could see him doing that!
Bob: “Hmm. That seems a little too short for you.”
Gail [trying out Dad’s new putter]: “Yeah, it could use another inch and a half.”
Or he might have measured the length of the current putter Gail owned. Dad had a sneaky streak in him, if it suited his purpose . . .
So why would he go to the trouble and expense to make a club for someone else? Well, Dad liked a challenge, and he liked to putter around.
I know . . . terrible pun, but really, the best word choice . . .
It would have been a nice winter project, giving him something golf-related to do while snow covered the course. Sort of the way gardeners thumb through seed and bulb catalogs, making garden plans during the winter.
Dad also commented regularly after any project (like installing aluminum siding on the side of the garage by himself!) how he wished he had another, similar, job to do. By the time he’d finished the first project, he’d finally figured out “how to do it,” so that the next project would be much easier!
The golf club repairs, and making a custom putter, certainly would have given Dad an oppotunity to hone his skills. While neither he nor Gail could justify the extravagance of a custom set of clubs, a really nice putter would be an affordable luxury. It’s also the one club used on every hole. Woods and irons vary from hole to hole, depending on how far you need the ball to go, but you always use the putter.
Okay, if you hit a hole in one, you won’t use your putter, but I’ve never heard anyone complain, “Dang! I got a hole in one. I couldn’t use my putter on this hole!” They know they’ll make up for it on the next hole.
Dad died in September, 2009, so he made and gifted the club before that, probably by several years. Uncle Gail golfed with it at least 7 years—most likely longer. So why is this club even important? Only to serve as a reminder that it often isn’t the BIG things we do, that have impact on the people we know. More likely, it’s the LITTLE things, the small gestures that show we’ve paid attention to the other person—what they like, how they spend their time, if they seem bothered by something and need someone to talk to—making a lasting impression.
I doubt Dad really worried about the “why” for the club. I bet he just thought it was something his brother-in-law would use and appreciate. He was right.
The Father’s Day prompt was last week, but it seemed appropriate to spend time with these two really good dads, today, on actual Father’s Day. Both of them taught all us kids important lessons, if we had sense enough to pay attention at the time.
#52Ancestors
¹Gail F. Meintzer, Detours: A Memoir of a Railroad Man (Green Bay, WI: Written Dreams Publishing, 2016).