On Father's Day weekend Judy and
I attended the 40th annual Conklin Classic, my 17th appearance. It began in 1973 when Fred Conklin, then
a recent Coe College graduate (Cedar Rapids, IA), invited a few of his
fraternity brothers (Lambda Chi Alpha) living in the Chicago area to get
together for a golfing weekend.
Over time, fraternity brothers started coming from as far away as
Seattle, Washington, DC, Long Island, Scottsdale, Minneapolis, Knoxville, and
Des Moines. The event has been held every year since in a variety of venues,
mostly in the upper Midwest.
After a few years, kids started
arriving, and the Conklin became a family event, with golf continuing as the
draw that kept the group gathering year after year. Now some of those kids, who earlier earned dollars for
delivering beers to the perpetual poker players, have returned as young adults. Eight of the twenty-four golfers at
this year's Classic were sons, daughters, and sons-in-laws of founding
members.
The opening line in one of their fraternity
songs that is sung a the drop of a hat, is, "We're all good fellows. Each
one the other's friend, and we'll be good fellows until our days shall end." And it's true. They are a bunch of very good fellows. It was my good fortune to gain access to
this delightful group through my brother Bill, a Coe College LXA. I continued to be re-invited, largely due
to my willingness to throw money into the "closest to the pin"
contests knowing full well my odds of winning are roughly equal to getting lucky
with Cheryl Tiegs. Bill and I have
consistently filled the "D" slots in the four-man team selections, owing
to the modesty of our skills.
Like any group of people in their
mid to late 60's, most everyone has experienced their share of triumphs and
tragedies. Four of the regulars
have passed away, including Fred's son Brian who died while still in his young
twenties of cystic fibrosis. Sky and
Big Ed both died unexpectedly of heart attacks, and Pete's wife, Carol, died of
lung cancer, having never smoked a day in her life. All passed at way too young an age, and they were honored at
this year's event in a funny and poignant video prepared by the crew's resident
wit.
There are few stories that
haven't already been heard more than a few times. But they are still funny and fun when told crisply and with
gusto. One of my favorites
follows:
Mary Ann is one of the kindest, gentlest people I've ever met. She's petite, very pretty, uncommonly
quiet, and possesses a winning smile and calm disposition. Keep these characteristics in mind as
the story unfolds.
Mary Ann was 7-months pregnant with their second child. She and Don had just returned from a
Sunday dinner at her Mom's house, and she was not happy. From her telling, Don made no attempt
to disguise his ennui at having to waste a perfectly good Sunday afternoon with
his mother-in-law. Few words were
exchanged during the Arctic ride home. When they returned to their small abode,
Mary Ann angrily tossed her purse onto a hallway table knocking the lamp it
held onto the floor, and then stormed into their bedroom.
Don had replaced the lamp and said, "You're lucky that lamp still
works. You could have broken
it." Then he walked out the front
door en route to his second job.
Mary Ann had changed into a nightgown for comfort, but she was still
steaming. She came out the front
door and onto the porch so attired, with the lamp in her hand. Mid-way to his car, Don turned to see the
bronze beacon flying his way, tossed by his mightily peeved 105-lb wife. And he heard her exclaim.
"See if it works now!"
Don wisely returned to the house to make amends.
We had all heard the story many
times, but laughed as heartily on this telling as we had upon the first. Don and Mary Ann's marriage survived
this episode and continue living happily ever after in Appleton, WI, and they
recently celebrated the arrival of their first great grandchild. Mary Ann noted that Don is still a work
in progress and occasionally requires some coaching.
I received over 40 responses from
faithful readers to last month's request for comments on the "Nude
Nuns" title. All but three
replied with something to the effect, "Stick with Nude Nuns, it's part of
the book's limited charm."
Two said, "Change the name." One said, "Move on to something new. Get a life." I'll noodle on this.
And that's the news from here.
Chuck
