We hadn’t golfed in awhile, but it was a beautiful day-—way too nice to be spent indoors—-and the course beckoned. The golf shop paired us with another couple around our age and when I introduced myself to the wife, Nina, she smiled and seemed open, comfortable, and at home on a golf course. I asked her which tees she would be shooting from, but she didn’t answer. When her husband, Joe, walked up to the cart, I introduced myself to him as well. Joe was quieter, but seemed….. gentlemanly.  Even before we left the starter area, George had charmed Nina.  I heard her tell Joe that she “liked this guy.  He’s funny.”   

Off the tee, Joe’s drive was well hit, but far left.  And it was “cart path only” …with the cart path way on the right, leaving him a long walk from cart path to his ball.(Turns out, Joe did a lot of walking that day anyway.)

We were all shooting from the forward tees, all of us advanced in age. Neither George nor I got off really good tee shots.  In fact, George told me that when he hit his, he thought “Oboy.  I bet this couple is going to think they’re going to have to be really patient with me today.”

However, when it came time for Nina to tee off, Joe accompanied her to the tee box, handed her a club, re-teed her ball, figured out the correct alignment and indicated it to her, then directed her to hit away.   Her hit was smacked right down the middle, and showed she was familiar with playing good golf. It did cross my mind, however, that it was going to be a very long round if Joe intended to give her lessons and set up her every drive.

In fact, however, Joe went to every shot of hers on that hole and did exactly that!  Since I was riding with George, we just let them do their thing, slowed our game down, and just kept hitting away.   Joe was pretty patient with Nina most of the time, although I did catch him losing it just a little when Nina attempted to drive their cart to him—-remember, it was cart paths only that day, and no carts were allowed on the fairway at all!

George had mentioned that he thought they were hard of hearing, as so many of his comments or quips were “falling on deaf ears.”  (Har har)  However, a couple of holes later,  when Nina again attempted to drive their cart across the fairway, Joe again yelling for her not to do that, and then, on the green, when it took several attempts to make it known to her that she needed to leave the ball where she was standing alone (it was Joe’s), and come hit her ball “over there” that it finally struck me:  Nina has dementia of some kind.   All our unanswered questions, and George’s ignored quirky sense of humor suddenly made sense. I watched closely during that hole and subsequent holes, as Joe continued patiently to set her up and bring her a ball or a club.  I would help with explanations some times, but for the most part, I let them carry on as they were used to doing.  

Their love for each other became more palpable.  There they were, playing golf because he was patient enough to help her along.   Her muscle memory allowed her to hit a fine ball—straight and down the middle—-but all the other mental stuff….. was faltering.  He was there to backstop that.   Finally, on one of the last holes, I touched Joe’s arm, and held out my hand.  When he took my handshake, I told him “You’re a good man.”   He seemed slightly surprised, and even at the last hole, when handshakes were given all around, he murmured “Thanks for your help”.  He couldn’t know just how much he had impressed and touched me.  I felt blanketed with their love, and humbled by experiencing that round with them……..

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