On golf, conventions, and greasy grimy gopher guts

I love my dad. I've got his taste in music, perfectionist streak, and feet. I've also got lots of fond memories of him from my childhood.

My mom is a banker and my dad is a golf course superintendent. That meant that he would be up at 4 am in the summer and get done with work about 4 pm in the afternoon. Sometimes he would take us back in the evening to the course to set up the irrigation system. I learned to drive a golf cart long before I ever drove a car. You'd think that having access to a golf course would have made me an avid golfer - on the contrary, my dad's general irritation with the members of the course turned me off to the sport. I didn't swing more than a handful of golf balls until my sister and I took a golf class together in college. After big storms, my sister and I would go out on the course to pick up sticks for him. We both worked for him for a few summers during and after high school. I mostly got the easy jobs of painting, weeding, bunkers, and roughs. Nevertheless, I learned that a lot of jobs weren't limited to men only, and if I had an interest in something, I should go for it. That made me one of the few women in my mechanical engineering graduating class.

My dad's career resulted in interesting family vacations. Every year, the GCSAA would have conventions in January or February, and most years, we would join my dad for a family vacation. Over the years, we visited Anaheim, Orlando, Phoenix, and San Francisco. It was nice to go somewhere warm when it was snowy and cold back in Wisconsin.

Since my dad was off earlier than my mom, he would pick my sister and I up from our summer care. When I was in 6th grade, he would come to the YMCA where we spent our days, and we would pile into his old F150 pick up. We developed a habit of singing "Great Green Gobs of Greasy, Grimy Gopher Guts" on the way home, and at the end of the song, we would each sing a different utensil ("and I forgot my spoon/fork/knife!"). My dad would also pick me up when I was much younger, and when we got home, pretend to make coffee for me.

Dad was the one did most of the teaching when I learned to drive. Thankfully, he was pretty patient with me (terrified as I was), and gave me great rules-of-thumb that I still use to this day.

When I was a teenager, we would have mock snap/kick fights in our kitchen. Silly, but  something I fondly remember. Dad also was the one who would go on rollercoasters with me.