I was brought up to believe that I don't belong to the upper crust; I still don't , will never belong and I'm not sure if I want to. But in certain instances, being in the right circles is not a crime even if it means taking on a non-glamorous job in order to be in.
Call it servitude to golf, silly, sheer benevolence, here I was on a marathon to help my charity again - the Long Island Museum of American Art, History and Carriages. In my attempt to help my golf-crazed friends to gain access to the Hamlet Golf and Country Club and hopefully be given playing privileges for free (You wish!), thus making their retirement income last a lifetime, I signed up giving a few gratuitous hours for a good cause. Pardon me for my partly altruistic reason, but it comes with the package, true friendship and volunteerism.
The Hamlet surely is a place for golfers who have plenty of money to burn. It is an enclave of gated-entrance luxury town homes, large enough you might as well call them mansions. This charity tournament was opened for individual sponsorship at $500 a shot at the greens as the cheapest.
The level of wealth I couldn't gauge, I'm just a mere volunteer here appreciating the landscape and the course design while sitting at the 17th hole for that awaited hole-in-one. The prize is a year of free lease on a Mercedes Benz which nobody won. I figured today's players may be the select and privileged group but not necessarily the good golfers. Judy and Maria cringed as we watched one guy 7-putt it painfully and embarrassingly. One man literally got a nice bounce on his ball as it hit the concrete cart path and we barely escaped being knocked down as we took cover inside the cart we parked under the oak trees.
At least this time the assignment was easy; there was no Josh to check if I'm up to speed on the job. Breakfast at the clubhouse, lunch served on the course and our own club cart, but hell if I'm going to drive that and risk tipping over and getting drowned in the water hole. I rode with Maria Andretti but I almost jumped off the cart as she got us on an almost 45-degree incline. I heard Judy once "jumped overboard" while she herself was driving the cart, Maria as passenger and poor Maria had to grab the wheel to save her own life. And I thought Judy was fearless.
Golfers think they know all about golf! But there's more to golf than how far you hit the ball. There are actually a few things I look for in a course, as if you care; something along the lines of what the surroundings has to offer, such as oaks, cypress, magnolias, dogwoods and not doglegs, flowers, rabbits, deer, restroom and a decent clubhouse restaurant. I love my camera and if there's any reason that I'm kicked out of here, it is because I got too close to the gorgeous private homes that are partly hidden by a row of hedges.
This is not the designated forward tee for ladies .. it's a red mushroom. Red!
Shotgun start was at 11:30 am which gave us plenty of time to enjoy the nice spread at the Clubhouse dining room. When you're used to having just coffee and toast for breakfast, a massive blanket of food and never before seen fruits such as the yellow raspberries is an exotic experience. Bananas are yellow, not raspberries.
It is luxury and extravagance probably equal in form to the Kentucky Derby. A master cigar roller from the Dominican Republic is ready on hand to deliver a freshly rolled one or boast a demo for the players before they drive off to the grounds. Life in contrast, my respectable wardrobe consisted of my gardening khaki pants and sneakers which are still muddy from a wet day at the US Open.
Once you get past all the wealth, bells and whistles, everything else is equal. I think. But, no. Let me rephrase that. Women play better golf than men from what I've witnessed today.
Now if men could only realize that golfing isn't as easy as writing a fat check.
I had fun. You may keep me out of the Country Club after this, but please let my two golf-addicted friends play - even just nine holes!
