my own Caddy Shack rewrite: a caddy mom's perspective

Welcome to shark caddy week. You've heard of shark week with those low-budget, so-dumb-they're funny movies? Well, I have a stockpile of caddy stories that I hope are more entertaining than your standard shark shit. It's my hope that at the end of these true tales you'll vote for a new installment of Caddy Shack because more happens in one summer for a caddy than it does to a beach goer who may or may not fear a tornado that suddenly rains sharks. Get your popcorn.

I was trying to go back to sleep this morning.  ‘Trying’ operative word.  My stupid elbow was hurting.  (2020 version of myself is cringing remembering the tennis elbow pain of last year).  I don’t know what I do when I sleep but apparently it involves break dancing or handstands or something that tennis elbow sufferers should avoid.  

While I struggled to sleep, I drafted this post in my mind.  Not all that easy without a keyboard.  I was still in bed trying to lay perfectly still, so as not to piss off the elbow that plays tennis when the owner of the elbow doesn't play tennis.

I woke up at 5:20, dragged Reg out of his top bunk, drove him to the caddy shack so he was there by 5:45 am.  As in, before 6:00 am.  I did the same routine yesterday, and I admit that I find it very unpleasant.  Yesterday it was Mini and Reg, but Mini went with Coach to Milwaukee yesterday after he and I met for dinner part way to Milwaukee so she wasn’t here this morning.  

Coach is taking a class in Milwaukee, and Mini is hanging out with a Milwaukee cousin.  My sister, Marie, texted me photos of the breakfast and lunch that Mini and cousin ate out today.  As in both meals eaten at a restaurant.  Pretty sure Mini will not be returning home.  Like, ever.  Who could blame her?  

I can imagine that phone call:  ‘Come on, you know how fun it is to get out of bed before 5:30 am to caddy?  Eating out is totally overrated.  I make great meals and eating leftovers a few times a week is boss.  Your room needs to be cleaned and Monday morning is the everyone-take-a-turn-to-clean-part-of-the-bathroom day, so lots to look forward to.  How soon will you be coming home?’

The painful elbow was only part of the need-more-sleep-but-can’t-fall-asleep issue that I experienced yesterday.  The other slight disruption:  Tank was shouting because he couldn't find his caddy shirt.  

Translation to those who exist in a non-caddy world:  my older caddies don't have to get to the course at ungodly hours.  They often go an hour or two later than the newbies.  Seniority has its privileges.  

My preference is that they go quietly though.  Tank -  hollering that Eddie wore his shirt, leaving him without one is IRRITATING at 6:45 am - or really ANYTIME of day.

Guess what sentence I often utter, and is often ignored? 

 ‘Get your shit together the night before!’  

I wrote names in caddy shirts and across caddy towels a few months ago to avoid this kind of situation.  Well that worked well.

This is Ed in Oct 2019.  I think he was home for break, which was just a weekend, but enough time to squeeze in a loop or two.

My newbie caddies didn't even get a loop (not enough golfers playing for the number of caddies) yesterday, so my early crawl out of bed  was all for naught.  After I drove them, I slept 35 additional, glorious minutes before Tank woke me to drive him to his legit landscaping gig.  Then I slept another 45 minutes before my alarm went off to workout. 

This morning, I wasn’t planning to attend a workout class.  I just wanted to get some z’s.  Last night I drove half way to Milwaukee to meet Coach for dinner at his brothers house.  I had Reg, Min, and Curly with me (then Mini left with Coach to head to cousin's house - confused?  Me too).  I fought sleep as I drove home late, so not terribly surprised when I woke up and realized that I left the garage door open all night.  

Ironically just last night, my sister-in-law and I traded funny/scary stories about police ringing our doorbell in the middle of the night after seeing a garage door up.  

So, I was surprised when the garage door was up, but I was also KINDA surprised/ticked off when I noticed that the teenage car was NOT on the driveway.  

Lad.  Never came home.  Well, that was uncool.  

I had an inkling that he hadn’t come home, because as I stood in the kitchen getting Reg ready to go to the golf course, I noticed that Lad’s shoes weren’t tossed around the kitchen.  There was also an absence of weird food left out or sprinkled across the island or dripped on the floor or whatever. 

‘No mess?  Bet Lad never came home.’ I grumbled to my half-asleep-self.  This is the thought process the mother of an almost 21 year old will have from time to time.  Guessing I'm not alone there. 

My 2020 self is realizing how much better life is with 4 of 5 caddies now licensed to drive. Still, it's not as if we had enough cars for each of them to get to the caddy shack when they wished.  There was often a late night 'who's-on-first' conversation to figure all that out.  Late night conversations NEVER lead to misunderstandings (wink, wink, eyeroll, dramatic head shake), so we had that going for us LIKE ALL SUMMER.  Obviously.  

Anyone have a memory of a summer job that required you to be up at an ungodly hour?  I worked at Burger King and I was so reliable that I had my own key and was trusted to open the store.  Well, that is a story for another day, but I was often awake at 5:30 am back in those days.  Ick.