Boys,

I’m hoping this will be the final part of the trilogy that was your mom’s and my 10-year anniversary. And like any good trilogy, I’ve saved the best for last. We left part 2 with our heros (aka your mom and I, Jacob and Julie) arriving at Ram’s Hill. Because it was probably my fault the Waze wasn’t’ing and my turns through bat country were a titch “aggressive,” the team decided to give me guff when I followed the “Parking –>” sign to the right instead of following their instincts and parking to the left. Thankfully, we were all able to traverse the 10 feet of sand between the parking lot and the clubhouse, and met our hosts and got ourselves checked into the event. We got our house assignment and got settled in. Tonight’s itinerary: dinner and glow ball.

I have to give it up to Bad Birdie for going all out on welcoming us for their first ever “Breakfast Balls Invitational.” They outfitted our whole team with full outfits for the next day, and loaded us up with beer, selzer, and CBD drinks. We dabbled in the accoutrements before grabbing a few clubs and heading back to the clubhouse for some fun. We lost Jacob for a bit during the introductions, something about the vodka being the activator(?), but got him back in time to get to know the other groups and head out for glow ball.

I wasn’t sure about glow ball, but we ended up having a ton of fun. The split us into different teams so we could further get to know each other, and had a matchplay-style team competition of closest to the pin. My team lost the first round, but your mom and Jacob’s teams moved on, but they eventually lost before the final. We all stayed close to the travelling cooler, and eventually said our goodbyes for the night to head back to the house. Games and continued dabbling had us settling in nicely. The community was called a “lights out” community, which means that all lights had to be turned off by 10pm. We took a drink or two outside, and continued the conversation.

Your mom was first to go to bed, and Jacob and Julie followed suit not long after. I, on the other hand, was stubborn and was determined to take advantage of this place that we’d probably never see again. Plus, I found the perfect song so I was happy. So there I am, all by myself in the middlest of nowhere, looking up at the biggest sky I’d ever seen the night before your mom’s and my 10th anniversary. Plus, I’d found the perfect song that fit my vibe in that moment. So, naturally, I try to get her to come out with me.

So, there are two ways you can read that text thread. How I intended it was in the vein of “this is a really special trip and I want to spend this really special time with the really’et, special’est person I know.” The second way you could read that, as was discussed amongst the group the next morning, would be how a college bro would text the girl he met at the bar, “hey girl, you up?” Unfortunately for me, when your mom didn’t answer back, I tried to text Jacob and got razzed pretty good for what that looked like when you read my text the second way.

Late nights aside, we were all up and ready to go that next day for the event; 18 holes of golf at another beautiful golf course. We put on our team outfits and headed down again to the clubhouse where we ate, warmed up, and got ready for the tournament. I won’t go hole-by-hole, but your mom and Jacob were playing pretty good, I was playing pretty bad, and Julie was finding a little bit of both through the first few holes. We brought the bottle of champagne Bad Birdie had gotten for us, but beyond that, we were trying to keep our wits about ourselves because we wanted to win. That is, until the 9th hole happened.

We step up to the tee box and it’s a closest to the pin competition. We’d gotten a sheet with the contest holes, so we knew it was coming. What we didn’t know was that they had a hole sponsor — Minimal Golf. Minimal was featuring their MNML golf bag, which had some cool features — bluetooth speaker, solar panel phone charger (I’m also aware that by the time you read this, it will sound like someone selling me on a golf bag with AM/FM radio and divider pockets for different clubs — can you imagine the possibilities?!?). Anyway, the other feature the bag had was a slot for your phone to go so you can video your swing. So, they were videotaping everyone to show off that feature.

The ninth hole at Ram’s Hill was a short, downhill par 3 (125y for guys, 110y for women) that sat heavy underneath the Borrego Valley, and with so much elevation change from tee to green, it’s easy to lose sight of the mountains in the distance. Because of this, you really feel the absence of everything and are truly just focused on the golf. 

“The green shape, perhaps the most unique on property, makes this one-shotter no easy birdie (or par),” reads the yardage book. 

The fact that the bluetooth kept going in and out also made us feel like we were really out there. We were the second group out of seven, so the group ahead of us was the first to go and we saw that they hit at least one good tee shot because the closest to the pin marker was set pretty tight to the hole. Jacob and I hit our shots (pretty tight, actually), then it’s your mom’s turn.

Hole-in-one’s are fun because you’re constantly thinking about it, but never expecting it. If I were more of a poet, I’d say they are a lot like love in that way. Symbolic it was, then, that on our 10-year anniversary, your mom hit a pitching wedge over the front bunker, and we all watched as it dripped over the front lip of the cup and went in.

I don’t know what percentage of golfers get a hole-in-one in their lifetime, but I bet most of them don’t get their first ON VIDEO and ON THEIR 10 YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY (to the day) and AT A TOURNAMENT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY. I can only speak for me, but once the adrenaline piked, a lot of what happened was a blur. Luckily, the video captured the moment. After she picked the ball out of the hole, she called her dad, then brother, followed by texting every contact in her phone what happened. “Hey guy who helped us do work on our Marion flip two years ago. Guess what I just did?!?” I didn’t check receipts, but I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.

The rest of the round was also a blur (could have been the bottle of tequila Bad Birdie gave us since they didn’t have any more cups with them. Like, “hey sorry we didn’t have any cups in our cart. Just take the bottle, you know what to do.”). Allegedly, Jacob had three birdies in a row, but the theme of the day once everything went down was no longer “Happy Anniversary,” rather “Who Cares?!?”

“Oh you have three birdies in a row? HOW CARES?!? IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU!”

“Well I wasn’t going to let things get out of hand, but hand me that bottle because ‘Who Cares?!?”

Your mom actually ended up beating Jacob by one shot in the net game, but that wasn’t the story. The Bad Birdie team flooded your mom with love and screen time; even sent out an email proclaiming her to be on the “Bad Birdie Mount Rushmore” for her ace.

The song I’d found the night before was called “Wondering Why” by The Red Clay Strays. The line that stuck with me summed up that whole next day and how it played out too.

“She keeps on loving me

Loves me the way I am

She’s not just along for the ride

She’s my biggest fan

Lord, it’s a little old piece of heaven

When we lay down at night

She keeps on loving me

And I keep on wondering why.”

“Wondering Why” by The Red Clay Strays

I think every parent wants their kids to think they’re cool (God knows I know your grandma tried really hard to convince your Uncle Jordan and I that as soon as we became teenagers). And I’m making such a big deal about this whole trip for 3 main reasons.

1. Lets just say our 5-year anniversary story wouldn’t have been quite as fun to read
2. You both should know that your mom and dad are (and were) pretty cool and do (and did) pretty cool things
3. (and most importantly) Your mom had a really cool, really rare moment and had that moment at a really cool, really rare place. And she should forever know that your dad thinks she’s a really cool, really rare person that he’s very lucky to get to share a life with her

So this blog is for you boys to read when you’re older. And I hope that when you read this post, you call your mom and remind her about one of the best days of her life — because I think she’d really, really like to hear about it (again).

Love you boys (and love you, too, babe)

Dad