Golf Gypsy: The Man I Love

Thirty-two years ago, at 6:25 pm Las Vegas time, Jack and I married in a simple and swift ceremony at The Little Chapel of the West.  We had met two years previously as single parents, both raising children who would soon be teenagers.  When we met I was a mother, librarian, professional storyteller and puppeteer, and my golf clubs were hiding in storage in an old leather golf bag.  Golf was the farthest thing from my mind.

The summer after we married, I intended to be the mother extraordinaire, but my plans went awry by that July.  I spent my mornings cleaning house, washing clothes, and getting meals ready for the day, little did I realize what three pre-teens could do to a house in a few hours. One evening as I vented my motherly frustrations, to a loving patient husband who had worked all day, he said, "Don't you have a set of

golf clubs in the garage?"  "So!" I mumbled.  He continued, "Why don't you get up several mornings a week and go out to Westwood and play golf, then when the kids get up you will have enjoyed your morning outside."  He was a smart man, and I was wise enough to follow his advice.

My life changed.  Our love and lives blended.  Three decades passed.  Three children became happy healthy and wise adults.

All those years he supported me with smiles, hugs, and thoughtful words: when I practiced and performed my stories; when I created puppets and plays; when I traveled and taught college classes and workshops; when I said yes to projects and committees that I didn't have time for; when I said, "Yes, I will write that book with you Dr. Laughlin."  We

played golf together, and I learned not to coach him. Sometimes he caddied for me in golf tournaments, or took me down to the river bottom to practice sand shots; When I pondered becoming an LPGA teaching pro, he said, "Go for it." When the van of traveling gypsy golfers broke down, he traveled to far ends of

The Original Golf Gypsies

Oklahoma to bring us back, clubs, dirty clothes, woes, and all.  And when my parents died, he and our children cried with me. 

One evening, he glowed with excitement as he told me about a job offer in Hutchinson, Ks. I followed that man I loved, and our lives changed again.  We became a couple without children, as they had grown and left home.  I was lost and empty without my family, my school, my kids, and my friends. I cried.  Once again he said, "Why don't you go play golf and meet some new people."  I growled, "because it's winter in

Kansas!"  But the sun came out, the ice began to melt on the ponds. One warm winter day, I drove to the Highlands Golf course and played golf with new friends, who enjoyed laughter and competition, in that order. Still I taught school and continued to tell stories,all the while playing golf whenever time allowed, and meeting new friends through work and play.  

After the USGA announced that Prairie Dunes would host the 2002 Women's Championship, we joined the Dunes, knowing it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even though my parents weren't there to enjoy the event, Jack's mother came up with our nephew to see Nancy Lopez play golf in person,

Nancy Lopez, 2002

because her husband, Albert, had been a fan of Nancy Lopez.  Golf had touched us all in many different ways. 

Letty, Peggy, Manon

I retired in 2008 and became a golf gypsy--traveling with friends and Jack through out Kansas;  to California, Colorado, Arizona, Arkansas, and Oklahoma; to Tennessee, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas, too. When I wasn't playing golf, my mind was spinning

Tony, Lora, Jack

stories, and a blog called "Literally Letty" was created.  What fun it's been sharing our universal stories.

We are both retired and living back were are roots were formed, in Oklahoma. Jack plays much more golf and travels with his buddies and his wife, and has found time to relax with life.  

Lucy Beeler, Jonya Stapp,
two State Champions

This year the Kansas Women's Golf Association KWGA and

Letty and Hannah Martin 

the Oklahoma Women's Golf Association WOGA both are celebrating 100 years of women's golf.Their history is like our lives, filled with up and downs, and yet they are building for the future, for the girls who will one day tell their stories through golf, through parenthood, and through careers as yet unimagined. I am grateful for all of the women whose lives helped to make in difference in my life, through work and play.

Through it all, I am most proud and thankful for Jack, the man I love, who stood with me as we raised our children, and who has chosen to travel this time with me.   

Jack and Letty, The Gallery in Marana, AZ

Golf Gypsy: Easy Breezy

NOT READY FOR STATE!  Holy Cow, the wind doth blow, and yet, we golfers show up for those all important tee times and play when we can barely stand up.  Then again, I've passed bicyclists on the narrow roads and worry as they weave sideways in the wind and cars pass them, so maybe golfers, joggers, tennis players are just simply people who enjoy the out of doors.

Letty and Barb G.

My golf gypsy friends even drive miles and miles just to play Prairie Dunes, no matter what the weather.  Hairstyles, not to worry.  We are there to have fun and create memories. As my friend Kathy Thomas repeats to us, "Swing Easy when it's Breezy."  Following her advice is often difficult when my body just wants to hunker down and swing hard into the 25 mph winds.

Sherrie W. and Barb B.

Memorial Day weekend 2013 and the days following proved that Kansas Winds can blow, and we can still enjoy the day out of doors.  Speaking only for me, I know it is friendship that pushes me out the door to play golf when my five senses are screaming, "What ever are you thinking!   The winds are gusting 30-45 mph and you could be inside reading a good book!"   Since my golf game has not proven itself this year, I can't really blame my scoring on the wind, but then again there were a few putts and chips that rolled past the hole and off the green like a jet at take off causing my score to increase by two or three.  Sometimes I think the weather creates tall tales or at least humorous stories, as we try to out do each other with lines like "Well you should have seen my shot on 12 when my ball careened off two trees and landed plugged in the sand trap!" or "I had a three foot birdie putt on #2 and took a triple bogey!" and the best one yet,  "I was only 100 yards out into the wind and hit my driver!"

Dedication and perseverance are certainly strong traits of golfers, but the most important is a willingness to laugh at ourselves.  We are NOT pros.   Next week, the Senior Women Golfers of Kansas will be playing in our state tournament, more than likely in windy conditions or blowing rain.  Like other games in life it is the friendships that bring us together.  We are not on this earth very long; we weep when our friends and family pass away, perhaps that is one more reason to join in the game of life.

To my friends:  a Toast to those who've played the game and touched our lives, and to those we'll share some time with this summer.  Thanks for the memories.

Peggy does the happy dance.  We love our birdies.

Letty Stapp Watt

historian, golfer

Golf Gypsy: Rest and Rehab

One week ago today I was on the Winfield Golf Course playing a respectable round of golf in the Kansas State Senior Amateur. Today I walked out of the doctor’s office after my 2^nd round of acupuncture in an attempt to heal my body, quickly. In between these two extremes there was but “One” shot that sent me to my knees in pain. Now in reflection it probably wasn’t one of my better attempts at recovery, closer to one of my worst disasters.

Thanks to that one shot I have a new mantra complements of Harry Varden, “On par 3’s over water use one extra club to carry or two balls to finish.” He was right, and I added four unneeded extra strokes that day to my tournament score. Finding my ball across the water but still in the hazard called for a decision. Instead of taking my penalty and dropping behind the water and then hitting a premier shot onto the green, I decided I had the skills and experience to take a stance in the hazard and hit the ball, hard, out of the hazard. With my left leg on higher firmer ground than my right, which was nearly in the muddy waters, I wiggled myself into a solid stance and hacked at my pink ball nestled in the deep green grass of the hazard line. Ouch! The ball moved perhaps six inches, but my club dug into the mud bank and never followed through. The instant of impact sent lightning stings up my left side. With a deep breath I stepped up to hit the ball again, only then did I realize that my left leg would not, could not grip the ground without pain. Without thinking I hit again and a few more times after that till I holed out with a painful seven.

I’ve played in pain before, so this agony in my left butt cheek was nothing new. Not wanting my playing partners to know I was in pain, I continued to play. However, my friends (some of whom are certified “golf gypsies”) recognized something was wrong on the very next hole when my tee shot went very right and I performed the “Oh My Gosh that Hurts Hop”. Finishing out the 14 holes also required a few silent chants like, “Swing through.. stay down..to the target.” My thanks go to Barb Gourlay, Debbie Christiansen, and Barb Bruell who were most gracious to me as I stumbled along finishing the holes, dragging that left leg and hitting the ball to the right, then to the left, and sometimes short down the middle. Many people would have withdrawn from the tournament because they are perhaps smarter than I am, but I had a goal and dream I was chasing, and it’s hard to let go of those dreams. So a few silent tears were shed that day as I felt myself shutter in pain with a strained or pulled piriformis or butt muscle.

Ice packs do wonders.

This week my body and soul is most grateful to me for a divine week of rest and rehab. I’ve learned that rehab can be golden. After finishing the tournament I promptly called my massage friends at “Bodyworks Unlimited.” On Thursday morning at 9am I was ready for a deep muscle massage. That is not the kind of massage that makes you dream of sunny beaches and ocean delights. It is the deepest of digs that lets you know where each muscle hurts and in how many places. In the end, which is where she had to dig the deepest to allow those knotted tissues to relax and lengthen, I walked out feeling refreshed, and with just enough energy to drive home, drink some “Emergen-C” and take a golf nap. Luckily, a young man named Rory McElroy delighted golfers around the world for four days with nearly flawless golf shots.

After four days on the couch with ice packs, a few hours outside with vinegar iced packs, and a whole lot of water to drink, I then sought out acupuncture. Two treatments with the needles this week, and I’m ready to take another golf nap. I’ll watch replays of Rory or of Paula winning last year’s Open. After my nap I plan to pack for the next golf tournament. So ready or not world this “golf gypsy” is planning to play golf again this Friday and Saturday. Look out Garden City, a foursome of truly dedicated “golf gypsies” is about to arrive.

Letty Stapp Watt
historian, golfer