Dear Loyal Readers,
It is with sadness that, (effective immediately), I must tender my resignation from being President of the Curmudgeonhood Of America (C.O.A.). I arrived at this conclusion due to an experience that happened over the weekend which convicted me to downgrade my rating to a “C-2” status and surrender my self-appointed title.
You see, this past Saturday (along with 2 of my best friends), we had the privilege to be in the presence of greatness. His name was Gary - a complete stranger (assigned to join the 3 of us by the club), but more importantly, a Master Curmudgeon….a true “C-1”.
I was humbled by the crabby, crustiness of his demeanor, his complete obliviousness to our repeated attempts to engage him into conversation, his supernatural gift of projecting a black-hole vortex capable of sucking-in the beauty, peace and joy that stems from being on the golf course with good friends.
Gary's body language oozed impatience and sourpuss. He didn’t smile, nor did he talk...(except to shout a profanity-laced tirade at the unsuspecting foursome ahead of us, because he felt they took too long to finish putting on the 5th green). Gary's ability to maintain such a constipated, crosspatch disposition on such a beautiful Autumn Saturday was so impressive that it's convicted me to temporarily surrender my title of “President”.
Unfortunately, it was a pretty chilly morning and Gary forgot to bring a jacket. Between holes he wrapped up in a dirty beach towel (same one he was cleaning his irons off with in-between shots), to try and block the wind. I guess even a C-1 curmudgeon can underestimate their own thickened and cynical outer-layer’s ability to negate a stiff northern breeze.
So at the start of the 6th hole, Gary did something that surprised us all...he spoke; “It’s too damn cold for me to finish...I’m going home”...and just like that, he was gone. Those few words were magical; however, because as he was carting away (beach towel draped around his shoulders flapping like a super-curmudgeon’s cape), the sun shined brighter, the wind died down, and the birds and squirrels starting chirping again and gathering nuts for the winter.
I didn’t get your last name Gary, (only because you wouldn’t tell me), but thank-you! You’ve shown me that I have a long way to go to get to your C-1 level of Curmudgeonry. I bow to the master and yield my title to you.
"Things are not as bad as they seem...they are worse!" - Bill Press