Two CAO Blacks

It was a week in early February, 2008. I was in the world’s greatest home office working on a PowerPoint Presentation, “Proposal Development 101” for a Nevada health care firm.

A fine CAO Black

I started early; around 5:30... just in case any Eastern clients (8:30 their time) were trying to see if I was paying attention to their email or calls. Since it was the 10^th or 12^th rendition of the presentation I was all over it like a cheap suit and had it in pretty good, updated shape by 11. 

I called the Coyote to check in and found out  he was up for playing hooky that afternoon so we made arrangements for a tee time.  Our regular playing partners, Chuck “Coach” Spooner and Don “Greyhound” Brunelle were both working (wimps) so we were held to a twosome.

The weather was in the low 60s and calm. The starter put us on the first tee early and we were just getting warmed up when a third, “Jerry” asked if he could join us so the three of us took off. 

On the first hole, I was playing a sweet little mulligan and ended up getting a par while Jerry, cleverly disguised as a construction worker in matching denim shirt and jeans, got a birdy.  The Coyote was playing the game we both normally play, which is to say all over the course.

A couple of holes later, Coyote and I were resigned to a day of average golf and beautiful weather.  I had tapped a fresh order of CAO Black stogies before leaving the office so the Coyote and I lit a couple. 

Canadian "tuxedo."

Jerry turned out to be an electrical contractor who played a dynamite game of golf.  He reached at least half the greens in par that day and ended up with three birdies.  Al and I enjoyed watching him play even as we settled in to our average mix of hits and misses accompanied with mighty fine cigars. 

We were getting along okay with Jerry so I told him the story about denim.  

One day a few years ago, I was wandering around our house wearing a blue denim Harley shirt and Levi’s.  Son Tyler showed up and, after looking me over a little, inquired as to where I might have purchased my “Canadian tuxedo”.  I have avoided wearing a complete denim outfit since then.  Jerry may be thinking twice as well from now on. 

I hadn’t had a stogie in a couple of months so around the 12^th or 13^th hole, I asked the Coyote if he wanted another as I was getting ready to crank one up.  We did. 

All in all, it was one of those days of great company, great weather and great fun with a couple of fine stogies thrown in for good measure. 

Like the t-shirts say, “Life is good”.

Like Bunker says, “It’s all good”.