Angels Crossing

A couple of weeks before Ruth’s accident we were talking about our two homes, and I offered this question.

“We’re lucky.  Our kids and grandkids are all in a good place.  Everyone’s got a good job.  And you and I have two beautiful homes.  We don’t have to, but if we did, which home would you choose to live the rest of your days.”

She fired back, “Michigan.  David and his family are here.  This condo is perfect, and we have nature all around.  I can look at it, but I don’t have to go into it.”

And then she asked, “Which would you choose?”

“Florida.  There’s more for me to do in Florida and I don’t have to shovel snow.”

In the end life happened.  She died while living here with the things she loved.  Neither of us knew that conversation would be our last on the topic.

When I headed back north two weeks ago, I fully expected to sell the condo.  I play golf one day a week and poker every other.  I have no one to visit, go out to dinner, play cards or just have a conversation.  That’s what I miss most.  Talking about the life we were sharing.

I felt I needed to add to my circle of local Michigan friends or sell.  Just as I arrived, things started to happen.  I’ve started subbing in a Monday golf group. That’s an addition to my schedule.  Another Tullymore member started a “Friday group”.  I can’t play every Friday, but I can play several.

Last week I was asked to sub in a Tuesday poker group.  They liked me and now I’m a regular.  They play every week.  Since my return, my circle of friends and social interactions have increased.  And then this series of events unfolded.

Last Wednesday, while playing with my Wednesday group, I got an eagle on the parr four seventeenth hole.  For those who don’t golf, it’s similar to getting a hole in one on a parr three.  In any case, it’s rare and it was celebrated.  As I walked up the fairway to retrieve the ball, a gust of wind blew for about five seconds.  It was suddenly strong and then just stopped. The air was still.  I kept walking but silently thanked Ruth for her assistance.

The next day I drove to Vicksburg to play golf with my friend, Gary.  We were meeting two other college friends, Debbie and Tim, at their home course, Angels Crossing. I never played there before.  I’m not sure I’ve been to Vicksburg.

I was the first to arrive, and after paying my green fees I turned and watched a familiar face, Jim, walk in the door.   Ruth and I met Jim when we started teaching in Plainwell in 1969.  We shared hellos with a quick catch up and he told me that Rick was waiting outside.  The three of us talked for a bit before teeing off.  Rick was hired with Ruth and me.

Jim, Rick, Ruth and I rode together in a carpool for several years.  The three guys played racquetball together for a few seasons and softball in a Kalamazoo recreation league for a team we named “The Fallen Stars”.  We sported tie-die t-shirts that Ruth made for us.

We hosted theme parties in our homes and dressed for each occasion. We played pinochle with our spouses, bowled in a league every other Sunday and had wine tasting parties.  That may have been the first time I drank wine that didn’t have a Ripple or Boones Farm label.

We did a lot of things together during our eight years in Plainwell.  I thought about all of that while playing golf that day.  But my biggest thought was, “What were the odds that I’d be playing golf on a course I’d never been to before with college friends, followed by teaching friends that had the tee time behind us.  I met the college friends in 1965 and the teaching friends in 1969 and we were playing golf ten minutes apart.

And although I couldn’t see her, I knew Ruth was with us.  After all, we were playing Angels Crossing.

TBC