At first glance one would assume the reason there is a golf statue in the middle of our backyard is because either 1. We live on the golf course. 2. My husband has a keen affection for the game or 3. I have an aversion to decorating sense. None of these would be correct.
Let me back up and introduce you to Vern. Steve Adams, owner of Adams Lumber in our little town of Council Grove was one of my husbands dearest friends. I remember the first time I met Steve. I was living in Topeka, about an hour away from Council Grove, and had dated Tim just long enough that we felt it was time to start meeting each others friends. So one evening he took me to a party. On our hour drive to Council Grove he told me he wanted me to meet Steve and told me funny stories about him. We arrive and in the kitchen surrounded by lots of laughter, there was Steve. We walk up as he is telling a colorful joke that ends with many choice words! Well, I'm far from being a prude, but I didn't think that is the way I'd be introduced to him. Over the years it wasn't a party if Steve wasn't there. He was in his element when he was entertaining people either by being a comedian or strumming his guitar singing songs he had written himself.
A couple of years later Tim proposed. We were blending our children, two sons and three daughters, who would be spending the majority of their time at our house so we started construction on his cute little blue bungalow. Tim did all of the work himself, sometimes working until 3 a.m. Many a night, Steve was by his side lending a hand or keeping the mood light with his humor. I'm not sure when it started, but sometime during the construction they started calling each other Vern. None of us can remember why.
Many years later, Steve became ill and passed away. This was very hard on my husband. He had lost one of the dearest friends he ever had. Several months after Steve's death one of the employees at Adams Lumber told Tim that he had something to show him. So they ventured to the bowels of the lumber yard and there was this hideous golfing statue. Steve had ordered it in as a joke and wanted it to be placed smack dab in front of Tim's office door on Christmas Day. As ugly as it was, it was just as heavy. I'm sure Steve had quite a laugh thinking about Tim finding it and the difficulty he'd have trying to move it before he could open the door! But, the guy that was supposed place the piece of "art" hurt his back and was unable to do it. Then Steve took a turn for the worst and the statue was forgotten.
Now that statue that my husband lovingly calls Vern has a special spot in our backyard overlooking Number 6 Green. What a jokester, that Steve! The final laugh was on us.
Vern overlooking No. 6 Green, Council Grove Country Club
I first saw the house in 1992. Not even knowing what it looked like on the inside, I knew I was in love. It was a two story brick house that was built in the early 1930's. It sat upon a hill with just the right number of shade trees to make it look inviting. It had four large french windows with eight panes on each side, all trimmed in white. Above the quaintly rounded front door there was the sweetest little balcony with a black iron fence. Across the front, just enough lush green ivy was growing to give it charm.
It wasn't until April 2001 that I was fortunate enough to move into it. I can't explain the feeling I had every morning when I would wake up and walk through the house, realizing it wasn't a dream and that I was actually living there. We called it home for almost twelve happy years.
We have outgrown our big house on the hill. We now have four beautiful grandchildren and a big, fluffy galoot of a Goldendoodle. We have found a perfect space on 2.5 acres complete with a mini orchard. It is truly a lovely place to live.
Tomorrow is the day we hand my dream house over to a new family. I can only hope that they love it as much as I do.
Selling the house I love has made me realize that even though I thought it was mine, it really never was. I just borrowed it for a while. Hopefully, through the years as the house is passed from family to family, all of it's occupants will feel how special of a place it is.
I'm lucky to have found a person to spend my life with that loves and believes in me. He must be a special man because I am quirky, unorganized & think my cluttered thoughts aloud to him on a regular basis.