Dragging George

Linda Lou Burton posting from Little Rock, Arkansas – Have you heard the one about Bob and George, two best friends? These guys had been golfing fanatics since their college days, and now, retired and in their 70’s, devoted themselves to the game.

They belonged to the Happy Valley Country Club, and every day had a standing date for a slow-paced 18 holes, and drinks on the patio afterwards to discuss every shot. On one particular fine spring day, it was mid-April I believe, Bob didn’t get home till almost dark; his wife Lucinda was getting worried.

She ran to the door when she heard his car in the drive, and watched as Bob slowly exited, shoulders hunched, head down.

“What’s wrong?” was her question. “Are you okay?”

“George is dead,” Bob blurted out.

Lucinda put her arms around her husband, exclaiming “Oh you poor dear! Your very best friend has died! What in the world happened?”

“George had a heart attack.” Bob said, shaking his head. “He just dropped dead on the spot!”

Lucinda guided Bob over to his favorite easy chair. “Sit down and rest sweetheart, and tell me all about it. You look awful!”

“Oh, I am exhausted,” Bob replied. “We were on Tee Box #4 when it happened, and all day long it’s been nothing but hit the ball and drag George.”

I have some friends who climbed Africa’s Mt Kilimanjaro a few years ago. Can you imagine what is involved in preparing for a trip like that? The training – for a year at least; to get you strong enough and lean enough and tough enough to BELIEVE you can keep going up and up and up for 19,341 feet where the altitude is unkind to your gut and lungs and you have to keep monitoring the oxygen level in your blood? The organizational details of such a trip to another country boggle the mind: vaccinations, medications, equipment, scheduling. Which guide service to use? Which route is best? Which time of year will the weather be good, so we summit at the EXACT PERFECT MOMENT for a sunrise?

What did the two agree between themselves? A sacred thing: if I can’t make it, you keep going.

I had another friend who organized a team to climb Mt Aconcagua, at 22,837 feet the tallest mountain in South America. There were 12 in the party, and after a year’s hard training, they finally arrived in South America, each with mounds of climbing equipment and supplies. (Kilimanjaro is a seriously rugged walk, but Aconcagua is a technical ice climb requiring much more equipment.) First they traveled two days by train from the airport to the starting point. From there, it was four days by pack mule to the place to begin the ascent. Each person’s name was called as their equipment was removed from the pack mules, but alas, ONE BAG of essential technical equipment for ONE PERSON had been left at the train station. Due to weather conditions and schedules for other climbers, the group could not wait the time it would take to retrieve it. And the unlucky fellow could not make the climb without his equipment.

The sacred agreement: if I can’t make it, you keep going.

Dragging George is a golfer’s joke, of course. But helping another reach their goal by finishing the course when they can’t make it – well, that is a pretty nifty thing.

I’m planning a trip to Africa, and, for a grand finale, to Iceland. It all began five years ago….