Published by the Times-Georgian–August 14, 2021
by Joe Garrett
It landed in the wrong place at the right time.
These events happen—especially when one is on the golf course. Last week I played a few holes late in the day as the lightning bugs began to flicker before the summer sky turned dark.
My tee shot on hole 16 was short and straight. The second shot was more the same. And as any experienced golfer will tell you, that’s better than going left or right—or for that matter, right or left.
Hole 16 at Sunset Hills Country Club is a long par 5 that slightly doglegs to the right. The green is bordered by two sand bunkers that can make or break a golfer (low or high handicapper) on any given day.
My third shot rested 70 yards from the pin and that’s when things changed as I drove the cart towards the ball. All of the sudden it looked as if I had a gallery of one person sitting in his cart by the green waving for me to go ahead and hit the ball.
“Who is this man?” I asked myself. “Is he a fan of watching bad golfers? Is he someone I should know? He looked like someone’s grandfather so perhaps he’s God—kind of like the George Burns character who played the almighty character and revealed himself to John Denver in the 1977 classic film ‘Oh, God!’”
As I drove closer, I realized he was none of the above. He was my neighbor Cecil Duffee.
“Is that you Joe?” he asked. “Go ahead and hit your ball.”
Thankfully, I didn’t hit him. My ball landed on the green and left me a long putt to save par.
As I walked on the green, Cecil stepped out of his cart and grabbed a club along with six balls he had thrown on the ground.
“You go ahead and putt,” he said.
I did—twice to bogey the hole.
“Have you been playing a full round this evening?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “I thought I would come out and here and work on this shot that gives me a hard time.”
“Do you have one of these wedges?” he held up his club. “The professionals use it around the green and they pitch the ball right next to the cup. If it works for them, maybe it will work for me.”
“I understand you recently had another birthday Cecil,” I said. “How old are you?”
“I’m 97,” he replied with a big grin.
Then he swung his wedge and the ball landed two feet from the pin. He took another shot…and another…and another—and each ball landed close to the cup.
“You know I’ve had blessed life and the good Lord has been always present in my life,” he said. “It’s funny how so many doors have closed and then another one opens at the right time.”
Then it hit me—Cecil has continued to press on through the profound grief he’s endured. He’s outlived both of his spouses and has been dealt a parent’s worst nightmare by losing two of his sons to cancer.
There’s an old saying the Lord “moves in mysterious ways.” I don’t think our encounter late in the evening was an accident. It’s easy to grieve the past and worry about the future. But on this evening, Cecil showed me how to live in the present.
He’s 97 and continues to work on his golf game. He’s outside practicing his swing as his joyful spirit seeks to perfect a shot that’s been giving him trouble.
Life’s too short to waste time sitting still.
I don’t know what God looks like. It’s doubtful he looks like George Burns. On this evening, however, I experienced a little part of him on the 16th green.
He looked a lot like Cecil.
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