Westhaven Golf Course recently held an AJGA, American Junior Golf Association tournament. They asked the community of Franklin and Williamson County to volunteer to help run this event that was sponsored by Reliant Bank. The Williamson County Chapter of the Red Cross was asked to provide first aid emergency care throughout the three day tournament and my chapter agreed to do that. There was a qualifying day, which was about 6 hours long, the second day our volunteer was there 10 hours and treated a small cut and the third day, which was plagued with storm delays, tornado watches and rain was the day my friend and I had chosen to work. We arrived at 6:30AM, got our gear into the golf cart we were provided with, set up our two-way radio and drove the course to familiarize ourselves with the 18 winding holes and locations. The young people in the tourney were young pros. There was no goofing around as this was all very serious golf. College scholarships were at risk and scouts would be wandering the next day. They were also very careful about getting hurt. My fellow Red Cross volunteer and I toured the course, delivered lunches, checked on moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas who were following the hills and valleys on the stormy Wednesday. During one loop of the course we heard “Medic” come from the radio. We looked at each other and said, “I didn’t know they had medics here.” “Medic.” It came again. “Who the heck is here?” my friend asked. Then over the radio, “Red Cross. Susie and Michelle. You in there?” I said, “Oh crap! We’re the medics!” Never having been called a medic before it was a light bulb moment for us. We took the call, and attended the young man on the 12th hole. He was happy to see us and use the bottle of Visine that Michelle had in her car for his contact . We left 12 hours after we got there, happy we only needed eye drops.
My sister had friends over for a card game a few days ago and during the game they talked about their upcoming trip to Maine. Trying to get the dates straightened out one of them went to my sister’s calendar.
“Ally! You still got March up on the calendar and it’s freakin’ June! Whataya thinkin’?” (They’re in New York)
She called and mistakenly shared this conversation with me. Since Ally is my baby sister, even at 52 which is weird, I had to give her a hard time.
“Sissy? Seriously? March?” I chortled my Big Sis Chort. “March?” I just had to rub it in. “It’s June! What happened to all those months in between? Do you have a black hole in your house?” More chortling by both of us, but mostly by me. To smooth things down a little I borrowed a phrase I’ve heard down here in the freakishly-hotter-than-hell-for-June south a few times. “Bless your heart, you poor thing.” Then I added my own piece of New York, “It’s that damn, stinkin’ menopause.” Our conversation eventually touched on her upcoming birthday trip, our peeping-tom aunt, her rotten chest cold and the antibiotics that were finally kicking in.
Today I walked into my office and looked at my calendar. I took a picture and sent it to my sis. Her reply: “December…bet you wish it was”. I’m sure she snickered.