Across the Swattie

On my request, our regular golf foursome ventured north of Lebanon PA to play Pine Meadows. I had played this course with different friends the past summer and enjoyed the course. That day last year, had been in the middle of the summer, warm and sunny, absolutely a beautiful day.

This day, unfortunately, was overcast, cold, blustery and had been preceded by heavy rain the day or two before. As any golfer can tell you, any recent heavy rain will usually result in being subjected to those dreaded conditions, “cart path only.” This means on any number of holes, one must leave their cart on the path and walk to your ball, wherever it may be. A minor inconvenience to be sure, but lengthens the round and often leaves you with the wrong club in your hand.

Three of us, myself, Mark and Mark arrived in the same car and awaited our fourth, Frank. As Frank arrived and exited his vehicle, he was quick to remark, “Well, it’s not the end of the universe, but you can see it from here.” Okay, long drive and miserable conditions, but we were least was prepared with long pants and multiple layers. In anticipation, I also wore long johns that I have for early season umpiring.

We proceeded to the pro shop to check in. The staff member welcomed us and began to convey the course rules for the day. “Due to the recent rain, it is cart path only, until you cross the Swattie. On the other side of the Swattie there are one or two holes cart path only, 5 and 6,” (just making those numbers up, don’t really recall the particulars). “All holes, once you cross back across the Swattie, are cart path only. Any questions?” I think we all said at once, “What’s the Swattie?” He chuckled and said, “Oh, you mustn’t be from the area, that’s the Swatara Creek.”

We started our round. Low and behold on the 3rd hole, we were teeing off across the storied “Swattie.” I hit first and was standing behind all three of my friends, when I decided I needed to tighten my belt. My slacks were a little large and I needed the belt to keep them on my hips. At any rate, with my golf glove and the coldness in my hands, my pants slipped from my hands and immediately dropped to my ankles. Startled by the suddenness of my partial disrobing, I exclaimed, “OH MY“. This exclamation caused all three of my group to spin around, simultaneously dropping their jaws. “What the hell”, God almighty” and other reactions jumping from their lips. As you could guess, laughter than erupted. Frank says, “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen on a golf course.“

Anyway, this innocent slip of mine has been brought up every subsequent round that we have played. “Oh My” has become part of our golf course language, I even hear it from other people, who weren’t present, but have heard the story.

This easy camaraderie is one of the many reasons I love and miss these guys since moving to Virginia. Gladly we get together a few times a year.

Oh My!!