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 He knew we needed the money for the children in our area who
might be without warm clothes this winter, so he brainstormed among
himself and came up with the golf tournament.
He went to Delbert McLain, who is our local chamber of commerce.
Delbert's eyes lit up at the suggestion but then suddenly clouded
over with doubt.
"But Doc," Delbert said, "we don't have a golf course."
"Leave that to me, Delbert, me lad. Leave that entirely to me."
And so our medical leprechaun talked to two farmers whose land
adjoined each other, and after they quit laughing, they agreed.
Doc rounded up Dud and Herb Collins and laid out an 18-hole golf
course in about an hour. They used steel T-posts for flags (with
bandanas tied to the top) and dug a hole with a shovel. They put
smaller flags at the tee-off spots, and there you go! An 18-hole
golf course that was 100 percent hazard.
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column]
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No fairway, just hazard. Rocks and trees and Lewis Creek and the
occasional cactus and yucca. Doc figures if you make it around all
18 holes without encountering a poisonous snake, you should get
bonus points.
"This course," said Doc, "is so bad, everyone will want to play,
because everyone will have a terrific excuse for having a terrible
game."
The cattle were moved to safer locations before the tournament
began, and enough money was raised to keep the kids warm this
winter.
"Life," said Doc, "should be ridiculous and fun. So let's do this
again next fall."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Brought to you by "Ol’ Max Evans: The First
Thousand Years." Available at
www.slimrandles.com.
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