James Ross - A Character-Based Collection (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  A relationship was born. “Easy Earl” was more or less the ringleader or spokesperson for the group. He was in his early-seventies and was an ornery, opinionated son-of-a-gun. Earl was quite a golfer in his heyday and could still shoot his age on most days of the week. He took a liking to J Dub on that very first meeting and insisted that a few of his old-time buddies made it a point to show up at Prairie Winds.

  To return the favor, J Dub hired Earl on a part-time basis. It was J Dub’s philosophy that the weekends took care of themselves, but the week days were what separated the successful operations from the ones that struggled. So Earl was put behind the counter three days a week for no more than a half day. He was quite a sight behind the counter as he wheeled his oxygen canister with him as he fetched drinks and snacks for customers. It wasn’t past Earl to put some time in as a starter on the first tee box on the weekends. When he rode around the course as a marshal he was easy to spot. The guys that hung out in the snack area used to joke that a hair bomb must have blown up from inside Earl judging from the nose, ear and body hair that popped out from every orifice. That, and Earl always carried his fishing poles with him. He would often stop at a lake, throw in a line, and take a break for a half an hour or so.

  J Dub knew that thriving public golf course operations couldn’t afford to pay much out in salaries. It was far more profitable to hire a retired guy, let him have a little responsibility, and give him free golf. So, Earl was good for business and felt like he was part owner in the joint.

  Rollie wasn’t quite as old as Earl. He was in his late-sixties. After serving in the war he had come back to operate the family business which was a distributor for electronic parts. When he got to retirement age, he sold the business and settled into his “golden years”.

  As is true with most guys, there is always something that bugs the daylights out of you. Rollie possessed a few of those traits. During the war he had a mortar explode a few feet from his head. He survived, but lost about ninety percent of the hearing in his left ear.

  Over the years that problem developed into a twofold problem. One, he couldn’t hear worth a hoot. Two, he never shut up. Rollie would talk incessantly, even when hitting his golf ball. That would drive the guys nuts. And on top of that he was in constant motion. Rollie was the only guy that they knew that could hit a ball and still be walking. “Good for the ticker” he would always say. He was the only guy on the course that wore a sweatshirt every day of the year including summer because he was ‘cold’. He was deaf and had heart problems that caused poor circulation in his legs, despite his support hose. Sometimes the guys would call him “Broadway Rollie” referring to Joe Namath’s infamous panty hose commercial in the early seventies.

  Like Rollie, BT was in his late-sixties. He was a tall, lanky ladies’ man. In spite of his awkward body build, he always came to the course in a sleeveless sweater and pressed trousers. He was a neatnik and always looked “prim and proper” as Marcia used to observe. In his younger days, BT played professional baseball but only made it to the higher levels of minor league ball. His big chance came when a player on the major league roster got injured and the club called down to the minors for a replacement. However, BT was hurt at the time so never made it to the big leagues.

  He went into education and helped out as an assistant coach in football and baseball. After making a career of that, he retired and existed on a school pension. Everyone at the club knew that BT was as tight as a wound-up rubber band. The guys normally played for quarters and inevitably BT would usually show up with little or no cash in his pocket. One day BT had lost fifty cents and did not have the money to pay off his loss. The guys wouldn’t let him leave without settling his debt. So, BT wrote a check for fifty cents just to get out of the clubhouse. From that point on his nickname was “Checkbook.”

  Fred was a red-necked, red-headed, blue-collar night foreman at the local car manufacturing plant. To say that he was an opinionated, country boy with a flat top wouldn’t do him justice. He had a chest that resembled a beer keg and a belly to match. Never in a million years would he be able to wear a button-down shirt. His double chin had turned into a triple chin. His freckles were large and massive and every bit of hair he had was bright orange. His skin by comparison was almost as light as an albino. If he was out in the sun for a period of time, his complexion would turn fire-engine red. Even his eyelashes screamed orange which made his blue eyes appear even more watery and lighter blue.

  Everyone knew when Fred was coming. He wouldn’t merely walk, he would waddle. The strut he had was to keep his arms from rubbing his body and his legs from chafing together. Fred would occasionally play an even-par round of golf just to prove that golfers come in all shapes and sizes.

  Paul was in his mid-sixties. Of all the guys in the group, he commanded the most respect. He had a distinguished look and frequently was referred to as a silver fox. Anyone that needed advice or assistance would get in touch with Paul. He was dependable, honest, and a straight-shooter. He was an ex-military officer and lived off of a sizeable U.S. government pension. Having a military background instilled a sense of order and neatness that affected him to his older age. You could count on Paul to have freshly starched and pressed slacks with a smart looking golf shirt and matching spit-shined golf shoes. J Dub guessed that Paul must have cleaned every spike in his golf shoes each morning to pass an inspection. Hence, Paul was such a perfectionist that he often times bordered on being nauseous. His travels across the states had afforded him the opportunity to hone the skills of his golf game. Paul was a talented golfer that would shoot par golf almost every day. His perfection carried over to his swing and course management.

  Elia was Paul’s barber. His family had survived the bombings and turmoil in Beirut, and shortly thereafter made the trek to the land of opportunity. No one knew exactly what Elia did. However, he was known for carrying a ton of cash and an electric razor in his bag. Elia complained that no matter how often he shaved, he still had a five o’clock shadow. He called it “The Nixon Curse.” Maybe it was his Middle Eastern custom to carry that much cash or maybe he just pocketed the cash from haircuts. No one knew for sure what he did, except he did a lot of shaving.

  There were several unusual things that made Elia loveable. He had caught a lot of shrapnel in Beirut as a young adult and when complications set in, a good portion of his colon was removed. On more than one occasion, Elia crapped in his pants out on the course after eating a hot dog at the turn. To complicate matters, he only had one testicle. When he first started to play golf he took a ricochet off of a tee marker at the driving range. The resulting damage to his scrotum necessitated an embarrassing medical procedure.

  Paco migrated to the United States from Chihuahua, Mexico. He originally crossed the Rio Grande, got employment, and ultimately obtained U.S. citizenship. Paco was not a stranger to work. He started his own landscaping company and then recruited his brothers, cousins, and nephews to work for him. A huge toothy grin was a regular visitor to his face that accentuated his marble-brown eyes.

  Due to his choice of work, Paco was a hearty soul with a strong back. His strength was always a surprise since he was borderline skinny. Paco wore faded jeans and sneakers with a white t-shirt and light blue windbreaker. He also wore a simple gold cross that hung from a short chain around his neck. He could hit the ball a mile and the boys kept asking him back. For an immigrant, Paco caught onto to the American way of life quickly. He blended in well with the boys.

  Finally, Curt became an invitee to the group. J Dub told him that there was a pretty good game at the club and that he should make it a point to join in. So, more often than not, Curt started to hang around with the guys, too. They encouraged him to show up for the daily golf games and Curt had a tough time not accepting.

  These guys became a fixture at Prairie Winds. You could count on a good portion of them being there every Saturday and Sunday morning as well as several days a week. “The boys” didn’t have much to do during
the day. They would meet early in the morning, share their coffee and doughnuts, and play a round of golf. Most days they were done with their round by lunchtime. Then they would hang around the clubhouse and play backgammon and gin until it was time for supper.

  Chapter Seventeen

  March 1984 . . .

  The business had only been open for a few weeks. Everything that had been going on between J Dub and Marcia had all been focused on J Dub. It was J Dub trying to get on the PGA tour. It was J Dub buying a golf course and getting into business with a stranger.

  Marcia was getting tired of it all. She had been carrying a baby for quite a while and was feeling resentful about not being noticed. Her pregnancy was nearing completion. Her irritability was multiplying by the second.

  As they were cleaning up after dinner one night J Dub said, “Lew is some guy. He sure is taking care of us.” He was appreciative of the fact that Lew had given him an interest in the business, the old pickup, and a fair amount of responsibility.

  Marcia had already grown sick of Lew and her pregnancy wasn’t making things exactly easy for her, knowing that J Dub was literally at Lew’s disposal. She was in the mood to spar. In mid-thought, she blurted, “That’s a bunch of bull. He’s taking care of himself.”

  “He’s already talking about the time when . . .”

  Marcia interrupted, “Oh, please! Lew is talking about how he has you wrapped around his stubby little thumb.” She was still fuming and ready for an argument with J Dub.

  J Dub looked at his wife in surprise. “What was that all about?”

  Marcia furrowed her brow and pointed at her bulging belly with both hands. “This is what it’s all about, big boy! I am sick of not being able to sit down in a chair like a normal person. I’m disgusted with this continual backache. Why won’t this nine pounds of baby come out?”

  J Dub tried his best to hide his chuckle as he saw his very pregnant wife giving him the mother of all dirty looks. He forced a slight grin as she waddled back and forth throwing silverware into the kitchen drawers and slamming them shut. He could tell she was beyond pissed off. J Dub nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “It shouldn’t be much longer, Hon.”

  As Marcia dried off a spatula she waved it in J Dub’s face. “It’s been all about you. You try blowing up like a balloon and have a baby kicking your bladder at all hours of the day. Look at this!” She showed him her swollen fingers with her wedding band squeezing her left ring finger.

  “It’s been a tough stretch for us.”

  Marcia was offended by his reference. “ . . . Us? Us? I’m sorry. I don’t see you carrying nine pounds of baby! What about me? I have to sleep sitting up! Everything I eat gives me indigestion. There’s nothing the doctor can give me to make it any better! This damn heat rash around my waist is killing me. I look like I have baseballs for ankles!”

  “What did the pediatrician say?”

  “He’s said any day for a week.”

  “Did you tell him how miserable you are?”

  Marcia mustered the best exasperated look she could and shot it squarely at her husband. I know he didn’t just ask me that. He must think I’m some ignorant fool! She fumed. “Yes. Dammit!”

  Marcia was getting to the end of the road with her pregnancy. She had been absolutely thrilled to become pregnant. Her two older sisters had already delivered babies and she wanted to experience the same joy that she had heard about. When the news of her pregnancy was announced her mom had been ecstatic. An incredible feeling had overcome Marcia. She was going to experience the same feeling that all of the other females in her family had experienced. In fact, the whole pregnancy had been an incredible occurrence. She had met the right man. Having a baby seemed so right, so good, and so pure.

  Perhaps it was a woman’s intuition, but Marcia knew that she was pregnant from the moment of conception. She didn’t want to believe the intuitive feelings that were prevalent, but deep down inside she knew that she was pregnant. Then, when she had missed her period and the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy, Marcia was not surprised at all. She was calm and thrilled. She felt as if this was the reason she had been placed on earth.

  From the moment that Marcia had heard the doctor confirm her pregnancy she felt as if her life had taken on a whole different meaning and magnitude. She had become deliriously happy and excited only to be overcome by anxiety and fear worrying about the health of the unborn child. The pregnancy had filled her with joy and contentment for the most part. She very much wanted to be a mom.

  J Dub knew that his wife was tremendously excited about bringing another life into the world. He did not want to see his wife be so uncomfortable and unhappy. “We can have it induced.”

  “Ya think?” she sarcastically shot back.

  “Why sure.”

  “Well, DUH!” Marcia growled. The shout caused an immediate release of energy. At that instant Marcia felt her water break.

  Marcia looked down and saw a huge puddle on the floor as she steadied herself by the counter. “Dammit! I just mopped the floor!” she whined. J Dub grabbed his wife and started walking her to the car.

  “It’s going to be fine, Marcia. I’ll mop the floor later, ok? Let’s get you to the car,” he soothed. Marcia’s hormones were shot. She began to half cry and half whine.

  Marcia was leaning heavily on her husband as he grabbed her hospital bag. “J Dub? Do you swear the baby is coming out? Really?” she sniffled.

  “With any luck it will come out in the delivery room and not in this truck. Hang on.” J Dub and his wife sped off to the hospital leaving a cloud of smoke from the burning oil. The worn out shocks magnified every bump.

  J Dub rushed Marcia into the emergency room of the hospital and began to excitedly explain what was happening. A very bored looking nurse seated at the information desk continued reading her latest romance novel. Without looking up she handed J Dub a clipboard of forms to complete. As she drowned her instructions he tried to politely interrupt her to get immediate attention for his wife.

  “Complete these forms. Please note that pages twelve and thirteen are front and back. It’s mandatory to initial and sign on each page.”

  “Miss? My wife is about to have a baby! I don’t have time to complete all these forms. Miss? Did you hear me?” J Dub was starting to get irritated now. He finally saw a couple of nurses walking by and asked them for help.

  The nurses wheeled Marcia into the delivery room and gave J Dub some scrubs to change into. J Dub and Marcia were finally in place to have their baby as the doctor instructed Marcia when to push.

  “Oh, Marcia! I love you so much, Honey!” J Dub could hardly contain his excitement as he held his wife’s hand and coached her on breathing techniques. The anesthesiologist looked at the print out of the machines that were hooked up to Marcia’s belly.

  “Hang on, Mr. Schroeder, she is about to have a major contraction.”

  “Why are you telling me, to hang on when my wife . . .” J Dub stopped in mid-sentence, fell to his knees, and screamed in excruciating pain. The anesthesiologist and a nurse jumped to J Dub’s aid and helped to pry Marcia’s nails from his forearm. Before they knew it, the exhausted couple welcomed their bundle of joy into the world.

  ~ ~ ~

  The birth of a child was a beautiful experience for J Dub. His wife had delivered a gorgeous, healthy, baby girl. They named her Gail. A lot of the emotions that had been flowing through Marcia hit J Dub the minute his first child was born.

  From that moment on, life changed for J Dub. Marcia was right. Up until then J Dub’s world had been centered on golf and making the tour. Gail changed all of that. She brought a new type of joy to him that could not be put into words.

  The first time he held his baby daughter was almost a religious experience. Up until then she had only been connected to Marcia. But now, as he held her, the power of being a part of bringing new life into the world nearly made him collapse. The bond that he felt was incredible and he instantly fell in l
ove with his new daughter.

  It was as if the dream of Tour school was a distant memory in the rear view mirror. That vision did not count at all anymore. Now it was all about being a family man and providing the very best that he could for his newborn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day . . .

  Bogey jumped into J Dub’s arms the minute the cart barn door sprang open. It was as if he knew that J Dub was a new father. J Dub took the pre-dawn moment to bond with his energetic little buddy. Things seemed to be perking along fairly well. J Dub and Marcia had completed the move into their apartment. The boxes were unpacked. Now they had a new addition to the dinner table. Life in the Schroeder household was good. And, it was mostly due to their beautiful daughter, Gail. Marcia was more comfortable physically. She was now free to enjoy her one-on-one time with her daughter during the day while J Dub was at the course.

  Dub opened the door to the pro shop and watched as Bogey did his best imitation of being a guard dog. He flipped on the lights, turned off the security system, opened the cash register, and started making coffee. He turned on the small television behind the counter to check the weather forecast for the day.

  As J Dub sipped on his first cup of coffee, Julie came through the door. “How’s the proud papa this morning?” she blurted as she dumped the newspaper and junk mail on the counter.

  “Good morning, kiddo!” J Dub rang out. They chit-chatted as J Dub recounted the scene in their kitchen right before Marcia’s water broke. Julie laughed so hard her eyes were tearing and her laughs began to be accentuated by snorts.

  “That Marcia is a hoot!” she giggled. “I guess that’s just nature’s way of saying that nine pounds of baby needs to come out!” Julie and J Dub yelled in unison as they laughed together. J Dub felt a kinship with Julie. Besides himself, she was the only one that had noticed the idiosyncrasies about Lew. She genuinely liked Marcia and seemingly liked J Dub a great deal. He viewed her as more of the kid sister he never had rather than an employee. Some of the guys even commented on how much they favored one another. Julie was the girl next-door type . . . pretty, smart as a whip, and nobody’s fool.