Sorry Barack, There Will Be No Repeat Victory

Chicago roots or not, Obama is not Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls. He will have no threepeats or even two consecutive wins. And why not may you ask? It is very simple, after much soul searching the Dickerson Pondit has decided to throw his hat into the contest. I am pumped up and ready for my run. I know this news will delight my slightly to the left of Attila the Hun friends who are already gnashing their teeth over the inevitable second straight Obama victory. This is the brightest ray of hope they have seen in months. On the other hand my other friends, the socialists and (perish the thought) Democrats will be wailing and moaning that my entry will just about make it impossible for the beloved Barack to win once again. Hey, life is tough.

The Pondit is going all out to win next year's Nobel Peace Prize. This year the wise old men in Oslo could not find anyone better than a mini-term US president to nominate for the prize. The word on the street was that there just was not another candidate worthy of the prize. Well that is now taken care of for 2010. Tomorrow, with the help of my blog followers I am launching a worldwide initiative to reunite couples who have lingered in darkness for years yearning to be reunited with their mates and reincarnate to a useful existence. These separated couples come in all colors: whites, blacks, browns, yellows and reds. Some are short and others very tall. They are male, female, gay and straight. They come from the far corners of the world. You see them in the streets of New York and Neiman Marcus in Dallas. I am talking about those unmatched socks in your dresser drawers. You know, the ones you have let slip to the back rear of your sock drawers. Some might be have lost their mate just recently, but be honest, you must have one or two that have been there for longer than you can remember.

I know you are all good people. You have kept those single socks because you love them and could not bear to bring them before your personal death panel and recommend a horrible final solution. Well, once again, when my friends and readers are facing the difficult social decisions that are constantly challenging our very existence, I come to the rescue. Here is the plan that will end this most dreadful and dysfunctional apparel state. Tomorrow is a friend's birthday and the Pondit is invited for a little fête to mark this significant anniversary. Of course, all attendees are told to bring no gifts. That means you have to come up with a gift that is really not a gift and look cool doing it. What less would you expect from the Dickerson Pondit than to resolve this sticky casual social dilemma with a Nobel Peace Prize worthy solution?

I am gift wrapping two of my clean orphaned socks as a birthday gift. Inside will be this card:

Dearest friend, please help me and all the good people of this earth end the loneliness and uselessness of these two socks. They yearn from the threads of their existence to be united with their solemate. If you search your sock drawer and cannot provide a mate for either of these socks, please re-gift them so that reunion remains a sign of hope in their lives. God bless the Dickerson Pondit.

With the help of my blog followers -- all of who are not only trendsetters within their sphere of friends – but caring and loving souls, I hope to reunite millions of unmatched socks by the time the old men in Oslo start weeding out candidates for the 2010 Nobel Peace prize. I am also counting on some homeboy consideration. It is about time the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to someone of Norwegian heritage. My word, there has to be some Norwegian who can match up to Mother Teresa or Reverent Tutu. From today on I am hyphenating my last name with my mother's maiden name, Lawrensen. If I can get Google to cooperate, the name of the blog might also change, The DickersenPonditsen.

Please, get those gift boxes of socks into circulation! Don't forget to mention the Pondit's name inside the gift box!

PS

If Obama announces the total withdrawal of US troops from Iraq and Afghanistan, you can keep your old socks! He will be the Michael Jordan of Peace Prizes!

Phi Alpha

I just returned from a trip to South Carolina to meet an RPI fraternity brother. For those readers who are not from northern New York State, RPI does not refer to dead fraternity brothers (that would be RIP) but to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy New York. I met Jim for the first time when rushing Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity in my freshman year of college. That was back before electronic calculators and after the introduction of electric typewriters for those of you who feel more comfortable placing dates on a timeline. Jim was either attending RPI at the time or just hanging around the fraternity waiting to come back to RPI. I graduated from college on the five year plan that included attendance at three different universities prior to graduation. Jim decided not to cram four years of education into five years and took seven years to finish college. I would recommend this plan to any student except those for whom I am paying the tuition. College is a wonderful time. As you get older you realize the time went by much too quickly.

Jim and I have been friends since that first meeting. His wife, Ann, was a sorority sister of my wife at the SUNY at Albany. I was part of their wedding party which was held in the wild and crazy town of Wayland, NY. If any of my readers knows where Wayland, NY is before rushing to Google Maps, they will receive a wonderful prize from the Pondit. Both Jim and Ann are the two people I know who most resemble what they looked like while in college. Ann gets more credit since she finished college on the boring four year plan. In fact as I write this, I am going to ask Jim for a photocopy of his diploma. He might still be working on that undergraduate degree and thus be disqualified for the still looking like statement I made above.

While in South Carolina, Jim and I played five of America's Top 100 Public Golf Courses in five days. Jim plans on playing all one hundred. I am setting my goals on playing the one hundred cheapest golf courses in America. In June and July I drove across the heartland to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and back. I played eleven different golf courses in ten states in thirteen days. I spent maybe $400 on greens fees. Thanks to Jim's quest, I spent $575 in just two days in South Carolina. By the end of the trip, I was liquidating my 401 Plans. Really, it was worth the cost. Reconnecting with old friends is always great. Ann flew in from California to join us on the third day. After Hilton Head and Kiawah Island we spent the last few days in Surfside Beach just south of Myrtle Beach.

Here is another travel tip from the Pondit. Driving from Myrtle Beach to Westchester County, NY in one day is not recommended. Listen to Paul Simon…. "Slow down you move to fast, you've got to make the morning last."

Here are a couple of photos:

Jim and the Pondit in the fairway looking toward the Ocean Course clubhouse on Kiawah Island.

The Ocean Course flag. If you are a golf course with green fees over $300 a round you get a flag. That is a USGA rule.

This is not Jim and Ann. We played the Harbortown Course at Hilton Head with this wonderful young couple from St. Louis. This is the famed eighteenth hole at Harbortown.

After finishing our eighteen holes at the Ocean Course, Jim and I made sure we got the most of out of our green fees by spending two hours at the clubhouse bar and then coming back for dinner in the evening. We were saddened to learn that drinks and dinner were not included in the greens fees.

Brigantine Beach

I am down at the Jersey shore for the week. September at the beach is a found jewel. If you like the beach without crowds, this is the time to be here. I drove the twenty minutes from my timeshare outside of Absecon, NJ past the Atlantic City marina casinos and across the channel to Brigantine Beach. I did the same last evening but only had about thirty minutes at the beach before it got dark. During this morning's return I walked from the inlet at Atlantic City toward Brigantine. I took my time and was gone for one hour and a half. During my walk I saw only five people. I did see at least fifteen dolphins. They were all moving with the current heading south toward Atlantic City. They were in several pods, flocks, schools, gaggles, coveys, herds, packs, agglomerations, droves, gatherings, Each and every dolphin was swimming alone without another dolphin within several hundred yards of another. I did not find any briefcases on the beach this morning or last evening.

Just before I turned form walking north to heading back south to my starting point, I took a piece of driftwood to write a message in the sand. The beach at this point in Brigantine is very flat and broad. All houses are at least another quarter mile from where the sand beach turns to dunes or scrub forest. You really get a sense of isolation here at Brigantine. I wrote a message to a very special person. It was only a few sentences but I had some feelings I needed to express. A few minutes after I put down my "pen" a series of waves pushed the wash further into the shore. An inch of sea water encroached on my message. As the advancing water retreated back toward Iberia, the words had become only faint impressions in the drying sand. After another series of waves and wash, it was as if the words had never been there. I turned out toward the ocean again. I imagined my words mingling with those of others, perhaps Hemmingway's old man or Melville's Ahab or even Jonah. Maybe it is the vast oceans retain all our memories, diluting the bad ones and embellishing the good ones with the seasoning of salt and the garnish of time. It was a good walk.

I'll be back there tomorrow.

Atlantic City at night from Brigantine Beach.

Even a lonely horseshoe crad casts a long shadow in the early morning light.

Author, Author

The Dickerson Pondit has not been at all faithful to his blog. Shame on him! It is not that he has abandoned the pen and paper or more truthfully the keyboard and Microsoft Word. While traveling across the northern US of A this past June and July, the Pondit decided he would spend some time writing stories. In the past six weeks he has written two short stories and started his first novel. The two stories are fully finished in draft form and he has asked some friends to help him with editing the stories. The novel is still in construction mode but he has made significant progress. The plot line is developing nicely, at least the Pondit believes it is, but with the transition from short stories to a full blown novel, there will need to be a great deal of follow-up work to do a better job in developing the characters in the book. For reasons unknown to anyone including the Pondit, the novel is set in Key West Florida. Perhaps he has a fixation on Hemmingway or he just isn't as clever as he should be.

His first story is set in Valeria, the home of Dickerson Pond. This is place well known to the Pondit and made the writing of the story a little easier. He did not have to spend hours using Google Maps to find names for locations and try to fathom what was north, south east or west from the point of action in the story. The second story is part of a proposed trilogy on technology. The technology in the second story is texting. It is fairly short and raises some concerns about privacy in this new world of instant communications. The Pondit is hoping that he can get some of his work published. The Pondit also heads out when he sees a rainbow to try and find the pot of gold that the leprechauns hide at the end of the colored arc.

I am going to share chapter one of the novel, The Briefcase, with my blog followers. Feedback from the highly intelligent readers of the Dickerson Pondit is as always, gratefully accepted. So far the novelist has penned thirty-one chapters of his first book.

The Briefcase

Chapter 1

Chet Harte woke up suddenly. He had his dream once again.

He is walking barefooted along an isolated stretch of a quiet beach. Small waves are lapping the shore in their regular pattern. He stops occasionally to pick up an interesting shell or a half buried sand dollar. Those he carefully places in his empty 7-11 paper coffee cup. Up ahead bobbing just six feet off shore is a briefcase. He wades in and retrieves the case. It is locked and fairly heavy. Chet cuts his walk short and heads back to his car. Once back home he opens the garage and enters. He closes the large garage door and carries the still dripping case to his workbench area. He forces open the case and his jaw drops: inside is money, lots and lots of money.

Last April, Chet turned fifty. He was in good shape and has spent the past six years working and living in Key West. Chet is a contractor for the US Navy and lives in a small cottage with his wife Anna on Sugarloaf Key just about eight miles east of the Naval Air Station outside the city of Key West. Anna is five years his junior. She is a free spirit and currently teaches fourth grade at a parochial school on Key West. Chet and Anna have two grown children one son who is a lawyer in the Boston area and the other in the Santa Inez Valley that owns and operates a small boutique vineyard. Life has and is good for the Hartes. Life is easy in Key West. There is little to complicate the routine, save the occasional seasonal hurricane or when a cruise ship is in the harbor – there is one too many Jimmy Buffet wannabees.

Chet is an early riser. Anna wakes a little later than Chet, but covets her morning time for spiritual reflection. The couple usually spends the first few hours of each day on singular activities. This Tuesday morning Chet was up and out by five forty-five in the morning. He decided to drive up to nearby Bahia Honda State Park to do some beach walking and possible add to his collection of exotic seashells. Chet knows an area on the northwest part of the key that he will almost certainly have to himself at this time of the day. The drive in his red Miata took almost twenty minutes including his customary stop at the local 7/11 store for a cup of coffee and a Boston Crème donut. After parking the car in the empty lot, he headed out on this walk. Bahia Honda Key has a land locked lagoon and the west beach ran out on a narrow spit of land between the Gulf and the lagoon. Chet had the early sun coming over his right shoulder and could easily scan the Gulf with the sun off to his back. About a half mile into his walk he noticed some debris out in the water and a few hundred feet further he noticed some jagged plastic boat parts washed onto the shore. There were also two deck cushions and a rubber buoy along the shore. He then saw one very large, long piece of plastic hull bobbing about twenty feet offshore. To Chet, it looked like a part of the hull of a cigarette boat. Chet scanned the sky to see if there were any search/rescue planes in the area as he had seen no boating activity at any time during his walk. There were no sign of any people in the area, either on shore or out on the calm Gulf.

Just before the beach turned northeast toward nearby Ohio Key, Chet spotted it. There it was just bobbing in the water not more than twenty feet off shore. Chet's stomach tightened and his breathing quickened. It was a black leather briefcase. He looked up and down the beach to see if he was alone. There was not a soul in sight. Chet thought, "Is it time for me to wake up?" This was not a dream. Chet placed his cup of shells on the beach and waded into the water. He was up to his waist when he reached the briefcase. It was large for an attaché case, and fairly heavy. Chet was surprised it was floating. Grabbing the leather handle, he towed the briefcase to the beach. As was the case in all his dreams, the case was locked. Water was draining from the seams, but the briefcase and its contents were still quite heavy. Chet knew exactly what to do. In twenty minutes he was back at his car in the still empty parking lot. He opened the trunk and deposited the briefcase and his 7/11 cup. It was low tide and Chet was counting on the incoming tide to wash away any sign of his presence on the beach before the next human approached the wreckage area. It was only after he was half way home that he gave any thought of the persons who might have been on the boat.

Dickerson Pond Yacht Club: Inaugural Sail

Most of my loyal readers are unaware that the Pondit is currently the commodore of the Dickerson Pond Yacht Club. This exclusive Westchester County yachting club is open solely to boats and ships that disdain the use of hydrocarbon fuels. Our credo is an old Lenape Indian saying: "Since the Great Spirit has given us the wind, we shall pass it." That might not be the best translation, but just to be safe the DPYC never meets indoors.

Yesterday afternoon marked the first sail by yacht club members. The Pondit, DPYC Commodore, and Joel, DPYC Vice Commodore [aside – Joel is responsible for all vice at the DPYC], launched their sailing vessels at the club mooring on Dickerson Pond. There was a brisk wind blowing in from the south and with the assistance of cabin boy Jack and inspired by the lady Pamela both the SS FAHEG and SS Pamela were christened in the clear waters of our pond. As these two fine sailing vessels left tacking gently against the southerly breeze, champagne was quickly uncorked and all by the lad Jack, started their imbibing.

Now perhaps I have failed to mention that both the SS FAHEG and SS Pamela are model sailing vessels and are controlled using radio signals by their captains and crews who remain at the mooring site. Another possible oversight is that neither the commodore nor commodore of vice has ever sailed previous to this afternoon. We have carefully studied Sailing for Dummies, K.I.S.S a Guide to Sailing and A Night to Remember. These fine references have told us what to wear when sailing, how to load and unload our sail boats from our boat trailers, how to carefully board our sailing vessels, what emergency gear to have on board during our sail, how to raise and lower our sails and most importantly not to sail near icebergs. I do believe there were a few paragraphs on how to handle the tiller and trim our sails in the first two references. We did not read some of those sections, and as you can see from the pictures, careful attention to clothing recommendations was not heeded.

We did, however, sail with few incidents. SS FAHEG did not have her jib sail properly rigged and limped in for repair once and the jib sail was dragging in the water at the end of her maiden voyage. SS Pamela spend the first fifteen minutes of the sail within twenty feet of the dock making several, no making many, small circles. It turned out that the vessel did not have its tiller fastened tightly to its rudder. Both vessels only collided once, but no one on board [There is no one on board!] or at the mooring site was injured. We estimated that SS FAHEG was sailing at least two hundred feet from the mooring site with satisfactory radio reception.

The entertainment committee did not bring nearly enough champagne and both captains and crew, except for cabin boy Jack, were forced to switch to beer to keep from dehydrating in the scorching sunlight. While gathering our equipment and empties after the sail, the SS FAHEG was blown off her mooring perch, a three foot high stone wall, and suffered significant damage. The boat is in the dry dock at this time but the shipyard foreman assures me all will be well by tomorrow.

The Dickerson Pond Yacht Club is opened to new members at the fancy of the membership committee. Fees are negotiable and separate discussions with the commodore or commodore of vice could lead to a more favorable membership fee. Please remember we accept no power vessels and we rely on natural gases for our propulsion. Sail On!

Below are some photographs taken by Pamela at our sailing event:

SS FAHEG at the Dickerson Pond Yacht Club mooring site prior to her christening. Commodore of Vice, Joel, is holding the SS Pamela.

Champagne in hand and controls mostly ignored our ships sail on the afternoon breeze.

Commodore Pondit moving the SS FAHEG a port on a quarter lee. Notice the straight back and attentive eyes.

The Commodore of Vice is still drinking champagne and has handed over the tiller of the SS Pamela to cabin boy Jack who no longer has the boat sailing in small circles near the dock.

Both vessels sailing peacefully about 150 feet off shore.

SS FAHEG being brought to shore for rerigging her jib sail.

SS FAHEG in dry dock after the stone wall incident. Thank the Lord for Crazy Glue!

pirT gnimoyW…Retrospective

The Pondit has had a week to reflect upon his road trip to Wyoming and back. As good as the journey was, there are aspects of the trek I would like to have done differently. The first item to come to mind is that 5,416 miles is too far for one person to drive solo, if there is an expectation of more enjoyment than logging miles and viewing America from the seat of your car. A companion for the trip would have increased enjoyment and relieved stress. The quality of meal times would have been much improved and since golfing was a prime activity on the trip, having a golfing partner makes most golf outing much more fun. The only downside of a travel companion is that by going solo, I called all the shots; I made all the decisions; and I could pass gas in the car without concern. These concerns mean that a suitable traveling companion (like Steinbeck's Charley) needed to be found and enticed to join me.

On my trip, each leg of the journey started between 6-6:30 AM with arrival at the next destination coming between 5-7 PM. After arrival, I usually needed a shower, dinner and time to blog including downloading and then uploading the day's photographs. I had to get to sleep by 11:00 PM to keep up this schedule and not tire out while driving. Perhaps staying two nights at several of the stops would have improved the quality of my visits. I could have spent two days in the Niagara Falls area – perhaps visiting Toronto. The Mackinaw City area had potential for a longer visit and some nice golfing venues along the shores of Lake Michigan. I did spend two days in Jackson Hole, but that could have been three days. The Virginia/West Virginia area had several more interesting side trip possibilities, such as visits to one of the caverns or one or two Civil War historical sites.

I also realize that there was no need to golf eleven of the thirteen days! I should have brought my fishing gear since there were numerous opportunities to drop a line in some interesting waters – from the immense Lake Superior to Minnesota Lakes (still looking for Lake Wobegon) and streams in Montana and Wyoming. A good book on tape should have been tried. Listening to my iPod playlists and The Village on Sirius/XM radio did get stale toward the end of the trip.

My trusty palm sized Canon PowerShot SD1000 camera worked well but there were times I needed more oomph. A camera with better telephoto capabilities was needed, but then again would have been harder to handle and taking shots from within the moving car might not have been advisable, as if it was a good idea even using the smaller camera.

My Garmin also should have been sent to an advanced training school to prevent some of its periods of giving driving directions I would not give my worst enemy. I did get some unasked for advice when using my Garmin in stressful situations and that was to expand the view to assure that my goal was actually in range! I had a good road atlas with me in the car and it was a godsend. It would be better for the passenger to read the map rather than the driver.

I am considering a late September/early October road trip to Prince Edward Island. This will be a seven to ten day journey. I will start accepting and reviewing travel companion applications next week. The perfect candidate will have a digital camera with a good telephoto lens, like folk music, play golf and fish, like seafood and has a poor sense of smell. This trip can be as short as 840 miles one way.

Like General McArthur, I Have Returned

The Pondit got homesick today. While I was driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia and just before entering the Skyline Drive, I decided to skip the Skyline Drive, skip my stay in Carlisle, PA and continue all the way back to Cortlandt Manor. I got home just before seven o'clock and am now doing two weeks of laundry while I prepare this last post of my trip.

NY, MI, ONT, WS, MN, ND, MT, WY. NB. IA, IL, IN, OH, WV, VA, MD, PA and NJ; all the states and provinces I traveled through on this 5,416 mile odyssey. Cheyenne, Lincoln, Des Moines, Indianapolis, Columbus, Charleston, and Harrisburg; all state capitals I drove through on the trip. The Links at Hiawatha Landing (NY), Forest Dunes (MI), Chequamegon Bay (WI), Rugby (ND), Eaglerock (MT), Teton Pines (WY), Jacoby Park (WY), El Paso (IL), Harrison Park (IL), Valley View (WV) and Vista Links (VA); the golf courses I was able to play.

Last night before driving to the Maury River, I drove up to a local golf course in Buena Vista. The course looked beautiful. When I got up this morning I drove up hoping to be able to play. There were several "regular" foursomes with tee times, but the starter let me out just before the first official tee off. I played well and the course was great. I teed off at 7:15 AM and left the course at 10:45 AM. I drove about sixty miles on the Blue Ridge Parkway. During the drive I passed seventy-eight motor cycles traveling in the southerly direction. The views were breath taking, although it was a bit hazy in the Shenandoah Valley. Most of the parkway was between 2,100 and 2,700 feet elevation. Except for cyclist, it was not heavily traveled.

Travelling on the Fourth of July did have some benefits. The car traffic was light and there were almost no trucks. There are not too many days when America's truck drivers get a break. It is one they need. I can now better appreciate how hard it is to drive the interstates hour after hour. I did it for several days, but these truck drivers do it forever.

Well the laundry is going well and I got to watch the Macys fireworks. Now I get to sleep in my own bed. Ahh.
Here are some of today's pictures:

The clubhouse in Buena Vista.View from the porch of the club house.

An uphill par three that is well bunkered. I had a three putt bogie..

A picturesque par four. Love the old barn in the background.

A little better view of the hole.

Beginning of my Blue Ridge Parkway ride.

One of the many scenic vista points.

The Shenandoah Valley.

This view looks east not west.

Looking out from 20 Minute Cliff.

Another scenic overlook.

Goodbye Columbus

I had an uneventful trip across Indiana got to Dublin outside of Columbus around 4:30 PM. I spent time with my cousin Bill, his wife Valerie, their son Nick and new daughter, Emily. My aunt Pat and Uncle Bill was also visiting. We had a nice visit, good dinner then drove into Columbus to see the Columbus Clippers play the Toledo Mud Hens at the new Huntington Park stadium. It was a nice evening and a wonderful ball park. Attendance was 10,100 and watching baseball played in a more intimate setting is worth a visit. We started watching the game from a rooftop restaurant. While heading to our seats, Uncle Bill took the elevator, while the rest of us took the stairs. At this moment, the Clippers scored on a grand slam home run. Uncle Bill missed the action. We left the game in the seventh inning with Columbus comfortably ahead eighteen to nothing! I must say I had the distinct feeling that all 10,100 fans at this game were just biding their time until Ohio State football started. Most tee shirts and sweatshirts were promoting Ohio State and not the Clippers. We all received free Clippers caps when arriving at the game.

I left Columbus at 6:45 AM heading to Buena Vista, Virginia. Golf plans went awry once again as my chosen course in Beaver, West Virginia was hosting an outing. I found a course in White Sulfur Springs, but it was not up to the Greenbrier standards. Happy Valley was a comfortable nine hole layout. I was able to play the entire round with one ball – very rare for the Pondit. I shot an eighty-three but the greens were flat and missing the fairway was not a big penalty. Driving through the mountains of West Virginia was a real up and down experience.

I had a nice post dinner wine and cigar along the banks of the Maury River a couple of miles from my motel.

Here are some of today's pictures:

Just entering the stadium.

Even minor league parks have large electronic scoreboards.

From the roof top restaurant above left field.

Cousin Nick. What a catch.

Clipper mascots.

The Pondit with his Wyoming baseball cap.

Thank you Toom Purcell for being a Clipper sponsor. Notice the Sodexo signage.

Uncle Bill and Aunt Pat with their new Clipper caps.

The scoreboard when we left. A real eighteen to nothing nail biter.

The bridge over the Ohio River on the West Virginia border.

Golfing venue in White Sulfur Springs.

If you hit your ball here you were really out-of-bounds!

The course was in the mountains.

Club House was very modest with a metal roof. Twenty-six dollars for eighteen holes and a cart.

My after dinner venue on the Maury River.

Should have brought my fishing gear.

Wine, cigar, Milanos and a view.

I thought I had a good plan for the evening.

Don’t Worry, It Will Play in Peoria

The Pondit left Iowa and drove to Illinois today. It was a cloudy, cool day and the trip was very uneventful. I did cross the Mississippi and I passed through Peoria. Route I-80 was littered with trucks and at one point with Iowa State Troopers. There was more road repair work going on than I deemed necessary. I was detoured away from the I-80 bridge that crossed the Mississippi to one by Rock Island. After crossing the river, I drove along it for a short while. I stopped for a yogurt break in the renowned city of Peoria, Illinois. I walked to the river front only to be accosted by a horde of strange looking flying insects that were about one and one-half inches long. They seemed to be hovering around nearby trees. I found a bench away from the trees and enjoyed my breakfast.

The rest of the morning was spent searching for a golf course to play. The city of Bloomington, IL has four public courses. I wanted to play at one that was designed by Arnold Palmer. When I approached the club, there were cars everywhere and young people out on the course carrying their bags as they played. What was happening was an international junior golfer tournament that was being played on all four local golf courses! I called another local course just out of town but when I got there, it was an executive course (Since I am now retired, I do not qualify to play at an executive course!). I called two other courses in town, but they were private clubs. My Garmin found a course about fourteen miles north of the city in a town of El Paso, IL (http://www.city-data.com/city/El-Paso-Illinois.html). The course is not actually in El Paso but closer to Kappa, IL population 203! The El Paso Golf Course was actually a find.

But, once again truth is stranger than fiction. I was paired with a threesome. I made a conscious decision to make certain I was able to pay attention during our introductions so that I could recall each player's name. Often those names just fade away in minutes after I am introduced. I went up to senior member of the threesome and introduced myself as Charlie Holt. He said names would be easy to remember for the group. His name was Charlie, his adult son was Chuck and grandson was also Chuck. This reminded me of the Bob Newhart show with the brothers Daryl, Daryl and Daryl. The local "Chucks" were members and played very good golf. We played from the blue tees which were 6,111 yards for a par 71 layout. I blew up on a few holes and shot a respectable 92. The senior Chuck had eight one putt greens and not all of the putts were short ones! The "lesser" Chucks lived in a home that overlooked the 14th green. The original nine holes were built in the 1920s and designed by a group of local men. In 1988 a second nine was designed by an architect and are located on the other side of the "highway". The locals did as good a job as the architect!

I did some gift shopping and had a brief dinner stop. Tomorrow I am off to Dublin Ohio to visit relatives.

Here are all of today's pictures:

This is the bridge I took to cross the Mississippi River in Rock Island, Illinois.

This is the Mississippi from the bridge.

My second of three "I" states I will be visiting this week.

Peoria has a skyline?

This is the heart of Peoria as seen from the other side of the Illinois River.

The bridge I took to cross the Illinois River.

The El Paso Golf Club.

Third hole par three on which i did get a three.

Waiting to play the third hole I turned around to take a photograph. Past the shrubs is corn as far as the eye can see.

The course was neither without trees nor without hills.