Changing Your Grip

I got a call today from my ex-mother-in-law. That in itself is a milestone, but on top of it she and my former father-in-law want to take me out to lunch this week.

That’s nice, you say. What’s it got to do with anything?

Coincidentally, everyone’s focused on Hazeltine Golf Club in Minnesota right now, for the 91st PGA Championship. Hazeltine and my in-laws — now this takes me back. I won’t be at Hazeltine for the PGA. In fact, I haven’t been to Hazeltine since the U.S. Open in 1970. But I never forgot the tournament.

The course I don’t remember… except for being there with my in-laws.

I was a disappointment as a daughter-in-law to rabid golfing in-laws. They both play and they’re in their 80’s now. At the time they were at their prime in the country club golf set, and regularly in the paper for their constant presence as TJ grew from sub-junior dominator to college NCAA star.

And then he fell in love with a non-golfing girl. And we married while still in college. And then we had Matt. And I became a nightmare in their eyes. A career-killer.

TJ qualified as an amateur to play in the 1970 U.S. Open. It was his first major. It was my first big golf tournament as a young wife and very new mother. The in-laws decided to go and — probably reluctantly — decided to take me too.

Matt was about 8 weeks old. He stayed at home with my parents.

In a way, Hazeltine was kind of a baby too. This was its first major and it was in the middle of nowhere. Much was written about it being carved from a cow pasture. That much I remember. There was controversy.

So we get to Minnesota, and something arrives with me.

*** RED ALERT: If you are squeamish or uber-male, the following contains information of a female nature — but not that much. I leave it to your imagination. ***

It’s The First One after delivering… and sometimes that’s a doozy. This was a doozy. I made it to the first practice round and started to walk with his mother, but walking became problematic (are you still with me?) and I had to go back to the hotel via courtesy car.

I think my MIL spared TJ the dreaded trip to the drugstore (you know, guys…that one) but I became a liability to their having a good time. I was young, overwhelmed,scared and in the middle of the biggest tournament in the U.S.  At a hotel near a former cow pasture.

So I called my mom, of course. And she called my OB-GYN. And he said, have her get off her feet and stay flat. In bed. Until it gets better. (Which it did, after a couple of days.)

But this was a major bummer to my former in-laws. I was at the U.S. Open! At Hazeltine! And I was lounging in bed at the hotel! I was missing everything… I was a definite drag as a daughter-in-law. And some kind of weakling child-bearer to boot.

Well, TJ missed the cut. So by the time we were ready to go back home, I was OK. But I never saw a thing, and I have a dim memory of a wide-open course under a Minnesota sky. That’s it.

When I hear the name Hazeltine, that’s what I think of. Being young and clueless. And the new mother of the most perfect baby son.

Sometime after TJ and I split and we got new lives (and they got a new daughter-in-law who does play golf) — the sands of time wore away their memories of me in a negative light, and now I’m their long-lost daughter-in-law. I was freed from the old role, and it is easy to be kind.  Plus, we shared a life that meant a lot to both of us. In very different ways. But it was, as my son Colin calls it “Our Old Life.” We were all there.

The Lesson is: Everyone deserves a Gimmee now and then. You might even get a nice lunch out of it.