Eighty-Four at 84

They say a parent's dream is for a child who will exceed
The parent's own achievement. And I'm sure it's true,
Indeed,

The landscape of our history is littered with the stories
Of children who have gone on to achieve such wondrous glories...

They've finished college when their parents struggled just to write
And read, and they have done such deeds that anybody might

Assume that children always step beyond what parents do,
And sometimes I am sure that this assumption should be true.

But not for me. I learned this week, no matter how I strive,
I'll fail to match my mom, for she can putt and pitch and drive

So well and with such confidence that — cue the large crowd's roar --
She stepped out on the course and shot her age at eighty- four.

Now, if you are a golfer, you can understand why she,
My mom, has earned my awe, for one does not so often see

A golfer shoot her age. Oh, lots of pros shoot below par
But not when they are seventy. And so it is a far,

Far better thing my mother did than tiger now can do,
Or will do when he's eighty-four unless, like her, he too

Can somehow, at an age when most just watch golf on TV,
Go 'round a tricky course in just one more than eighty- three.

Ah, once I thought some day when I don't have to go to work,
As days of leisure loom, in my retirement a perk

Might be to take up golf and whack a ball from tee to green,
But now that will not happen, for, against all odds I've seen

My mother shoot her age, an eighty-four at eighty four...
So on the course, or on the links, there's really nothing more

That any Littlefield can do. And so, I'll not partake
Of golfing's pleasures. Maybe I'll play cards, but mercy's sake,

My smile is wide and warm now for my mom's fantastic ride,
Unless she calls and wants to play for twenty bucks a side.