Editor’s Note: She’s baaaaack!!! This time, Ms. Bear is sharing her mini-golf mayhem adventures, so buckle up! It’s going to be quite the adventure!!! xoxo
Mini-golfing memories popped up for me this summer for some unknown reason. So, I decided it was time to play a round or two, after probably 50 years away from the sport…haha. When I was telling Melissa about my youthful memories of mini-golfing, she said, “Oh, you’ve got to write about this for the blog!” So, here I am, to regale you with the always fun — and sometimes traumatic — memories of my childhood mini-golf experiences!
You might be wondering how in the world a child could have traumatic memories of family mini-golf, but just be patient with me as the story unfolds and you will see…oh, and the experience involves clowns, so enough said, right?
My sister-in-law, Lisa, had posted fun pictures of her family going mini-golfing recently. This got me so excited that I flat-out invited myself along on their next excursion. Of course, they were very polite and assured me I could certainly come along. But, then I started thinking that maybe I should convince Janelle to go with me for practice before I go with the Blake family.
So, ever agreeable, Janelle and I set off for the Sycamore mini-golf course, which until that day, I never even knew existed and it’s just one town over from us! So, we played the whole 18 holes, for a whopping score of 41 over par! HAHA. But, we had fun, and it rekindled my memories of my childhood, mini-golfing with my family.
Here’s the traumatic part! As a child, I was very, very shy and didn’t like any attention on me (totally opposite of today, if you believe the things Melissa says about me…lol!). So, we would set out to a fun mini-golf course near our house. I remember the waterfalls, the sand traps, the trick holes, but my most vivid memory is the BIG, and I mean BIG, clown on the 18th hole. This clown was where you hit the last shot before your ball would disappear. Now the thing was, if you got the ball into the clown’s nose, you would win a free game. Not only would you win a free game, but all hell would break loose (or so it seemed to little me), with lights and sirens going off to announce your win!
Being as shy as I was, I would try my hardest to avoid this calamity, but alas, it seemed like every single time that darned ball would go into the nose and win me a free game! I couldn’t stop it. My dad would be so proud of me, as he was a golfer at heart. I would have to go up to the desk and claim my free game! I am sure it was not at all the way I remember it, but I tell you, I can still see that giant clown beckoning and mocking me as I attempted to avoid that darned nose!
You might wonder why any kid would not want to win a free game of mini-golf. It was probably for the same reason I always threw out my free dilly bar stick from Dairy Queen, but that’s another story for another column.
(Special thanks to Janelle for snapping these wonderful photos!)