Pops turns 91 and we go golfing

My father had his 91st birthday on Saturday, and I took him to the driving range as a kind of birthday outing. I was a little anxious about how he would do (he has a bad left knee), but he used to be an avid golfer, and it’s something he had mentioned that he wanted to do, so if he was game, I was too. When I picked him up at The Mill, the senior residence where he lives, Pops had on a new pink T-shirt that his friends there had given him the night before at a small birthday party. “You’re only as old as you remember you are,” the T-shirt read. So in that spirit, Pops and I went to a nearby driving range and each got a bucket of balls. Unexpectedly, it had turned into a beautiful day despite predictions of rain, so we teed up under blue skies and began happily whaling away at the golf balls. Pops clearly enjoyed swinging the club, even though the ball sometimes shot off the tee at an odd angle or dribbled off and rolled to a stop 20 feet away. Afterwards, he admitted he was pretty rusty and that his weak left knee did hamper his swing. “I have to get back to basics and hit it easy,” Pops said. I should mention that I have never played golf. It showed. I drove the ball every which way but straight, and once took a mighty swing and left the ball sitting unharmed on the tee. But a couple of times, by sheer luck, I really connected, and the ball took off in that rising trajectory that you see on TV and came down out past the 200 yard marker. It felt pretty good. Pops ...
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