June 6, 1944...

 ...D-Day...aka "Operation Overlord":

The decisive beginning of liberating Europe from the Nazis' death grip during World War II via the beaches of Normandy, France.

There were five targeted beaches for landing points that morning:

Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword.

None of them were easy; enemy forces were poised to kill the liberators from superior vantage points as the vulnerable soldiers disembarked their landing boats.

But Omaha beach was the meat grinder.

Overall kill rate at Omaha was 8% of all landing forces...that's 2,811 men killed out of a little more than 34,000.

But those are summary numbers taken days after the victory had been won.

What was the kill rate on Omaha when the first companies - Able, Baker, Charlie - made the initial attempt to storm the beach at 6:30 in the morning?

Upwards of 90%

Think of that for a moment:

You're a 20 year old kid weighed down with 50 lbs of equipment on your back when they drop the door of your landing craft...

...that's still in 8 feet of seawater, 20 yards from shore.

You obediently race off the relative safety of the landing craft and into the frigid waters where you discover with a shock you can't touch bottom.

Panicked, you realize you're in over your head and rapidly sinking to the ocean's floor.

If you're quick witted enough you struggle to shed your 50 pound pack of gear that's supposed to help you survive this mission and bob to the surface to catch a gulp of life giving air.

As you do the water is strafed by machine gun fire from the bluffs high above you, and instead of catching your breath you take a bullet in the throat.

It took less than 30 seconds for you to die and you didn't even reach the beach.

It's not possible for most of us, sitting in the comfort of our homes, leading our sedentary lives of peace and safety, to grasp the terror of that morning on Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.

That anyone from that first wave of the liberation forces was able to traverse the deadly stretch of sand from the shoreline to the bluffs is - well, depending on your spiritual view of the universe, either a miracle of God Almighty or some unexplainable quirk of fate.

But in spite of the overwhelming odds against them and the mounting evidence of tragic failure all around them, those soldiers kept coming, kept disembarking, kept dying there in the blood red surf with only 1 out of 10 being able to inch their way to safety.

It staggers the imagination to try and conceive of the deadly reality of that morning, but they experienced it.

In spite of the impossible odds against them, they established a beach head and the objective that was supposed to be achieved that morning was finally realized over the course of several days.

Those men who paid in blood, who forfeited their lives, who gave up their families, their hopes, their futures so the evil of Hitler's Nazi Germany could be defeated...

Those men deserve our undying thanks, respect and reverence.

So on this early summer day, 80+ years removed from the unspeakable horror of that awful time of unmatched bravery and ultimate sacrifice, take a moment to give thanks to God in heaven for heroes such as these.

We - and much of the world - are free because of what they did on that terrible, glorious day.

NEVER FORGET

June 6th, 1944...

...<D-DAY>.

NEVER FORGET!

Here's a little sumthin'...

...to take you back to the mid 70's:  <Life Is A Rock (But The Radio Rolled Me)>.

It's a pre-rap "list" song, sorta like Johnny Cash's "I've Been Everywhere", but dressed up with a chorus and some video that actually identifies most of what's in the list he's reading.

It was recorded by a 1-hit-wonder group called "Reunion", which was comprised of Joey Levine as lead singer / list reader and some studio musicians.

Charted at #8 in 1974...

of course I had a lava lamp, it was the '70s...didn't you?

...and why do you care about any of this?

Can't think of any good reason, other than it does name a lot of the music greats in a very short time and it's kinda fun.

And having a little bit of fun is ok, as long as you remember fun is like cotton candy:  it's a nice treat now and then but you can't live on it.

Don't say I never did nuthin' for ya.

Well, he done gone and dooded it.

<The Hickory Hacker>, aka Christian Williams, has managed to give Callaway Supersoft golf balls a gutta percha style line cut cover:

For us pre-1900 hickory golfers, this is truly cool stuff, and not just for aesthetic reasons.

The only "officially approved" - i.e., acceptable for hickory tournament play - gutta percha golf ball is sold by McIntyre golf.

It's impressive that for historical purposes they use synthetic gutta percha, but their ball has 2 major problems:

One, it's outrageously expensive, around $16 per ball when you factor in shipping.

Compare that to a Callaway Supersoft at about $2.20 per ball and you get the idea.

As if that's not bad enough, worse yet is the fact it seriously underperforms when compared to gutty's used in the 19th century.

Using pre-1900 style clubs most hickory golfers get somewhere around 150 yards with a McIntyre gutty.

Don't believe that paltry number?

Here's an email I received from McIntyre golf in response to this question:

How far can you drive one of your gutta percha balls?

"Re: New customer message on May 22, 2023 at 8:00 am

 

to me

Terry-

 

140 to 160 would be typical.  most gutty events with pre-1900 clubs have course lengths at 2200-2300 yard per 9.

McIntyre Golf Company"

So how far were golfers hitting "real" guttys produced in the 2nd half of the 1800's?

In Mark Frost's book, "The Greatest Game Ever Played"...

Eddie Lowery caddying for Francis Ouimet at the 1913 US Open, the main subject of Mark Frost's book.

...he recounts Harry Vardon's victory in the 1896 British Open played at Muirfield in Scotland.

In particular he describes the 18th hole, a 447 yard par 4.

In Vardon's 1905 book, "The Complete Golfer", he reminisces about that same championship in 1896 and the 18th hole, describing it as "a fairly long hole - a drive and a good brassy."

He goes on to comment that while it's "...an easy 5, it's a more difficult 4", which makes perfect sense.

The last hole of a championship course, it's meant to be challenging.

To make par on the way out, Vardon's "drive and a brassy" would need to be something like 225 and 200 yards to be on in 2 - avoiding the nasty bunker guarding the green - to have a chance at a 2 putt for par.

So it's fair to conclude good golfers could hit a 19th century gutta percha 200+ yards.

That means McIntyre's overpriced version underperforms by at least 40 yards.

Kudos to them for trying to create a period correct ball using synthetic gutta percha, but what's more historically accurate?

The stuff you put inside it, or the way it performs?

I don't know any golfer who's more concerned about what's inside his golf ball than he is about the distance he gets from the tee.

At $16 per ball you'd think the folks at McIntyre Golf would be embarrassed by this obvious deficiency, but since they're the official ball recommended for <SOHG> and other hickory gutty ball era tournaments they just roll on.

They do so without me, however.

I may never play in a sanctioned tournament, but I can still enjoy pre-1900 golf using both clubs and balls that perform the way they did during the gutty era.

Very excited to get my mitts on a few of these brand spanking new HH guttys and come one step closer to playing the game the way it was "back when".

I'm going to skip this week's hickory golf update, having already bored you to tears with tales of the gutta percha wars, so let's 23 Skidoo:

when Larry first sent me this pic I missed Woody there in the middle of the tree

no sooner did Larry and a friend get his dock in the water than a green heron decided to use it for some fishing

an art deco figurine of an elegant lady...a "please don't beat me" gift to Karen for breaking one of her art deco figurines of an elegant lady

and, praise God in heaven, never will be

roses are blooming, top...

...and bottom

our peonies have popped

you like flowers?  we got flowers...

...can't wait until the tiger lilies, daisies, black eyed susans and hibiscus are in bloom

This day - June 6th - is a somber day.

On this day more than 8 decades ago, across an ocean in a foreign land, thousands of young American men bled and died on the beaches of Normandy in a hail of gunfire amid the fog of war.

They did not want to be there on that day, nor did they know anyone personally in the country on whose shores they laid down their lives.

They would rather have been back home with their families and friends, planning a future where they would grow old surrounded by people they love.

But their country called and they answered.

Because they did, putting duty above self and making the ultimate sacrifice, you and I are free:

Free to do and be what they might have been and done had they not given their lives for God and country.

Think about that today.

Honor their memories.

Be thankful.

Be humble.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

    - John 15:13

later, mcm fans...

Was Recently Sentenced...

...to hard labor on the rock pile...you see before you the results.

Extended our hardscape all the way around (mostly in front) and planted some drought resistant juniper bushes.

We did so mainly because we gave up on ever growing anything that resembles green grass there.

Very sandy soil, and with the summer drought coupled with the Attack of the Killer Moles...

approach to my 4th hole...the green flags mark the mole traps

...we're all in on a Southwest style landscape now.

Throw in a few Saguaro Cacti...

...and voila!  um, I mean listo!  We're there.

Just passed the 79th anniversary of D-Day:

June 6th, 1944

NEVER FORGET

In my last Twins Report I mentioned both of the boys were dealing with ROP (retinopathy of prematurity), an eye affliction that can be serious.

Well, for one of them it led to eye surgery, which can mean some permanent loss of eyesight.

You can imagine the stress of this situation for the parents, and I tried to console my co-worker.

"This is very tough," I said, "but remember: champions are rarely chosen from the ranks of the unscarred.  You're going to be stronger for having endured this."

His telling reply?

"I never wanted to be this strong!"

We can all relate, can't we?

If you're married with kids, you're just trying to hold it all together...go to work, pay the bills, love your wife, raise your children.

You're not trying to be a hero; you just want everyone to be healthy and happy as you watch them grow up.

You know there will be tough times, but as much as possible you'd like to enjoy the years while they're still in your care...go to little league games or dance recitals, play catch in the backyard, teach them to ride a bike, read them bedtime stories, hug them when they're sad, laugh at the funny things they do and say.

No one willingly signs up for the kind of ordeal my co-worker and his wife are enduring, but in God's sometimes confusing plan, there it is.

It's too early, post-surgery, to know the extent of this issue, but the stress for both baby and parents is intense.

If you're standing on praying ground, please take a moment right now and ask for God's blessing on this situation...for healing, as well as for comfort.

In lighter fare, I and the tools of my ignorance...

...ventured forth in search of the answer to my "Bobby Jones or Ironman?" conundrum.

Putting it another way, do I keep my brassie, or use it for firewood and stick to my irons?

The answer is a definite "meh".

After puzzling over why I can hit my driving iron straighter and longer than my brassie, I came up with the brilliant idea of creating a "hickory hybrid":

I cut my brassie down from from 42" to 40", the same length as my driving iron, and it did help.

That, along with slight grip / ball placement adjustments, straightened out my slice...at least when I followed my "relaxed swing, lead with your hips, see the ball" mantra.

Distance improved as well, from 120 up to 155 yards, which for a gutty is not bad.

So my "hickory hybrid" brassie retains its place in my bag.

For now.

Does this mean I've finally ascended from the ranks of dufferdom to the glorious realm of competence?

Hardly.

Last outing I managed to par a couple and bogey a couple...

...but what happened on the remaining holes was an exercise in bizarre physics and higher mathematics that shouldn't be discussed in polite company.

We soldier on.

And now for a little bit o' this & that...

Mr. B caught in the act in our hardscape

this baby blue jay perched on the metal artwork in our courtyard for awhile before flying away on wobbly wings

started a recent round on my backyard golf course with a hole in one.  if I can just do that IRL...

...but it won't be on the first hole of the course I'm playing now; that's a 320 yard par 4.

beautiful blend of moon and dock lights at Larry's cottage

moonlight over our pool

gorgeous white peonies by our back patio

Already approaching mid-June, folks...summer is in full swing now and racing past our outstretched arms.

Grab it before it slips away!  Seize each moment and make it memorable.

Back Yard

by Carl Sandburg

Shine on, O moon of summer.

Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,

All silver under your rain tonight.

An Italian boy is sending songs to you tonight from an accordion.

A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month; tonight they are throwing you kisses.

An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a cherry tree in his back yard.

The clocks say I must go - I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking white thoughts you rain down.

Shine on, O moon,

Shake out more and more silver changes.

later, mcm fans...