A Journey With Cerebral Palsy

I like the concept of continued traditions. The kind of things done year after year. During the first weekend of June, I play in a golf tournament. This year, marked the fourth year in a row, the trip was made. Of course, we have to take away the Covid years, as an aberration. The plan was changed up a little, for the trip of 2023. We headed out early on Friday morning, instead of driving into the night on Thursday. We would be playing with a new member to the scramble team. As one of the team found themselves on a trip to Europe. However, even with some of the changes, much of the plan remained. Even with the changed departure time, we would make it in time for golf Friday evening. The tournament would begin on Saturday morning at 9:00 in the morning, as each prior year. With the yearly visits to La Grande, there become traditional interests. Restaurants to visit with each trip and things to purchase for the return trip. A year ago, during our trip of the first weekend in June. The golf tournament was washed out by thunderstorms in the area. Causing me to pay particular attention to the weather, as the trip approached. Hoping for an exciting weekend, without interruption from the weather, we met up at an outlet mall on Friday. The drive this year would be separate, as my travels would carry me on to another destination.

The drive felt easy during the early morning hours. Departing just before 8:00 on Friday morning, the traffic flowing over the mountain was very light. The drive continued to be void of many cars. Making the five-hour drive feel enjoyable for the entire distance. The sun was bright in the open sky of the eastern portion of each state. We wound through a couple passes and across farm land, stretching toward the horizon. Making better time than years prior, we stopped for some lunch, before completing the remainder of the journey. Pulling into the La Grande in the early afternoon. We had plenty of time for a quick rest. The golf course was hosting a tournament on Friday, before ours took place on Saturday. Meaning we would be unable to play our warm-up round until the early evening. On the bright side, the tournament on Friday was a shotgun start. Meaning everyone playing, began at the same time, on one of the holes. If everyone began at the same time, everyone would be finishing up together. Providing an empty golf course, for the people looking to play in the evening, following the tournament. The opportunity to play an empty golf course on Friday evening, has been the same each year. The same tournament has been conducted on the day before ours. We arrived at Buffalo Peak golf course around 3:30 on Friday afternoon. There was time to hit a few golf balls on the range and we began around 4:00, Friday evening. 

We were the second group off of the first tee box, on Friday evening. Buffalo Peaks golf course being built around and inside a large bowl like area. Giving me the ability to view almost every hole, from standing on the first tee box. The picture of empty fairways running along the ridge and down the slopes was inviting. Leaving me feeling excited to get reacquainted with the golf course. The evening sun gave the ideal temperature, hovering in the low seventies. Wearing the comfort of shorts and a golf shirt, the warm-up holes began. Something amazing happens from playing the same course, one time per year. Playing the course provides a good picture of where my golf game stands. It didn’t take long for me to realize that things had changed during the previous year. My golf ball was flying further than it had the prior time playing Buffalo Peak. The golf shots also seemed to be traveling higher in the sky. On Friday evening, we decide to only play nine of the holes. Wanting to save energy for the tournament on Saturday and have ample time for dinner. With the new-found stability present in my swing on Friday evening. My excitement was elevated even higher, to begin the following morning. Finishing up on the golf course, the decision was made to enjoy dinner at a local spot. Bud Jackson’s has become a favorite over the years of traveling to La Grande. They have a burger I have come to look forward to having on the weekend trip. 

If my trainer has happened upon this post, skipping the next few sentences might be helpful. Bud Jackson’s has one of my favorite burgers. A couple years ago, the restaurant was the first place I tried a cheeseburger topped with an egg. I will always recall it as an amazing experience, because it was cooked almost ideally. My hesitation in having a burger topped with an egg had always been a runny yolk. If the burger was squeezed and the yok ran uncontrollably, the meal would turn into a mess. But, that first time in La Grande, the yolk cracked just enough, and freed the ideal amount of yolk. From that point forward, Bud Jackson’s has been the only place I have ordered the egg topped burger. Over some of my trips, there has been a sadder part of the annual dinner. I have gotten burgers where the yolk of the egg runs quickly and uncontrollably. When my inability to provide the correct amount of pressure to the burger, results in a yok flood. This occurrence leaves me frustrated with the impact of my disability. Cerebral palsy greatly hampers my ability to apply the correct pressure with my hands. Along with the spasms that can occur and intention tremors in my hands. Keeping a yolk from splitting, inside a burger, can be almost impossible. The situation happened this year, forcing me to eat the burger with a fork. It was still good, but carried disappointment. In my state of sadness and embarrassment, I spent most of the meal with my head downcast. The challenge of cerebral palsy can overwhelm in some circumstances. Causing me to feel like hiding from the world.

We started the golf tournament the following morning at 9:00. The four-person scramble has always been a shotgun start. Meaning, groups begin their day on different golf holes, around the course. For this year, we started on the sixth hole at Buffalo Peaks. The big sky of Eastern Oregon was a bright blue on Saturday morning, with the sun promising to push temperatures into the upper 70’s. It was a day for shorts, which was a welcome feeling. Our previous year had been rained out, with thunderstorms in the area. Leaving me feeling blessed by the warmth of the trip this year. We struggled over our first few holes. Trying to sluff off the rust of a winter with little golf. But, as the tournament wore on, we found our stride as a team. Placing together some good golf shots. Our second nine holes seemed to be more productive. Stringing together one par after another. Reaching more of the greens in regulation. The acceleration on the inner nine holes, gave us one of our best showings in the golf tournament. I don’t know how everything ended, but we left the golf course with our net score, within the top five teams. For me personally, playing the tournament revealed much about my game. When I get to play the same course once per year, much can be learned. 

As the day progressed at Buffalo Peaks, I began noticing the consistency of a different golf swing. One that seemed to be significantly more stable than the prior year. Playing in the scramble of La Grande was about my fourth game of golf for the year. I had played twice during a spring trip to California. Along with managing to get one more game played around my home in Washington. Over the playing of early spring, my swing was feeling different. A switch in trainers had brought on an alternative philosophy for training. The new concept had been changing my body, but I wasn’t sure it was real. Sometimes good days on the golf course happen, before reality sets in later on in the season. The tournament was proving my changes were for real. Not simply the fluke of a few good days hitting the golf ball. My driving off the tee boxes was actually keeping up better, with the other members of the team. If they connected well, their shots would travel beyond mine, by a good distance. However, it seemed clear, I had gained some distance in the previous year. There has been one particular tee shot, giving me trouble over the years. The carry over waste land has always felt too significant for my ability. I have become resigned to my inability to reach the fairway. But, this year was different, as my drive carried the waste area, ending its flight just off the fairway, to the right. The moment helped me realize the strength I had gained. 

There would be one more stop to make in La Grande. Following our satisfying tournament, we went by the butcher shop in town. They have great pepperoni sticks, both the original, and an option combined with jalapeno. The sticks have become a must have, during the annual trip to Eastern Oregon. I come away with a pound of each and it doesn’t take long for them to disappear. This year, the trip ended with a homemade meal and time spent sitting around. Following the two-day stretch of fun on the golf course at Buffalo Peaks. In the years past, my trip to La Grande normally lasts longer. However, the following morning would find me heading down the road. On my own, I would make the six-hour trip over to the Oregon Coast. A drive along I-84 through Oregon. From the Eastern part of the state, all the way to the coastal beach town of Manzanita.  I got up on Sunday morning to another ideal day. The sun was high in a huge blue Eastern Oregon sky. Happiness from another fun year in the small town, ran through my body. While, the excitement of the day of driving was sharing the space in my mind. After a good breakfast, all the thanks for the fun, traditional weekend. The hope hung in the air for another trip the following year. As, I headed off down the road toward the opposite side of Oregon.