FanStory.com - Saving Mr. Calvin - Chapter 43by Jim Wile

Chapter 43

Santa Barbara, California

2032

On the way home, I made my way to E. Cabrillo Blvd., pulled into the Waterfront Parking Lot, and headed onto East Beach, one of my favorite places in the city to relax. The sound of the waves was conducive to sitting and thinking, which I had plenty of to do now.

What had happened to me this afternoon? Or was it in the past 12 years, as it feels like it has been? The three separate travels I had made back through time were all delightful in their own ways, but the overwhelming feeling I came away with from the golf course was a sense of deep sadness. I keep seeing the look on Mr. Calvin’s face as he told us his perceptions of the game today and that he was thinking about quitting it—a game he had devoted his life to and without which he would be at an extreme loss. I was a little surprised at how deeply this affected me.

As I said earlier, I love the game and am a pretty decent golfer, but just like Mr. Calvin, my interest has begun flagging, and the way the game has become, it hardly seems worth playing anymore. And yet, do I feel the same way now after my time travels? Maybe not. In fact, the more I brooded on this, I think I could say, definitely not. I realized right then that what I had gained through my travels was a new appreciation for the game. How could I not, when I had been in the mind of the inventor of it and witnessed it from the very beginning? Seeing how delighted Arie was when she hit the ball squarely for the first time, when she invented putting, and how much she loved competing, that we ended up spreading the game around Holland just so that we could have some competition. Then I remembered the joy on Aggie’s face when she outdrove me and Putt with her newly-created feathery and when she smashed a beautiful opening drive on the first swing of the Snog-Foo tournament. And finally, the immense pride Abby felt in seeing her invention, the golfing suit, in use for the first time as she alone tested it on that first day of testing.

These three beautiful redheaded women had been my wives, and more than anything else, they brought me the most joy in playing and thinking about the game. If I were to let the game pass into obsolescence without doing anything to try to stop it, wouldn’t they all be extremely disappointed that I didn’t at least fight for it? All of a sudden, I felt strongly that I would be letting them, as well as Mr. Calvin, down and that they would then quickly fade from my memory. But what could one man do to save the game from extinction?

What indeed? And then I began putting my engineer’s mind to it. I sat there just thinking—for hours—long past the time when many people came down to the beach to watch the sun set in the west. I didn’t even notice that diurnal occurrence and only became aware of my surroundings when I started feeling chilly. By this time, it was dark out, and I made my way back to my car and drove to my condo. I realized I was starving, so I got out my phone and ordered a meal from McDrone’s. I also opened a can of Coors and sat down in my kitchen with a pencil and pad of paper to begin committing some of the ideas I’d been tossing around to paper.

In 15 minutes, the drone delivered my dinner, which I polished off, hardly thinking about it while making notes. I then made myself a pot of coffee and worked late into the night, getting my thoughts down and sketching a few diagrams. This plan I was developing would require the help of both Paul and Ernie, and I was convinced the three of us could do this. I didn’t get to bed until 2:00 AM, when exhaustion finally overcame me. This had been an incredibly eventful day, but I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I awoke the next morning at 9:00. I worked from home most days. Being a mechanical engineer, most of my work is done on computer. I had all the equipment and software I needed right here at home and rarely had to go into the office, oftentimes only one afternoon per week. Paul and Ernie worked much the same way in their jobs as electrical and computer engineers.

I called each of them at home this morning and asked them if they’d like to meet for lunch today at my place. I promised to provide sandwiches and beer for everyone. It seemed from our brief conversations that they too had spent a good deal of time thinking about the events of yesterday and were as eager to discuss them as I was. I thought this might be the perfect time to broach the subject of my plans.

They showed up around noon, right after I got back from my trip to the deli where I bought a variety of sandwiches and chips. I had plenty of beer at home in the fridge.

After polishing off a few of the sandwiches, we sat down in my living room and began rehashing the time travels. They wanted to hear the whole story of the first Holland trip again, and this time they had no doubt of its authenticity and listened to it more carefully. This was probably my favorite of the three travels, not only because I was there the longest, but also because everything was so new and, in the mind of Kilian Prost, I got to invent the game of golf with my girlfriend and my buddies. Just to think that I was there at the very start of a game that had become so popular. Paul and Ernie seemed absolutely fascinated by it this time, as opposed to being incredulous and dismissive of it the first time they’d heard it.

We then had Paul review the Scotland trip and Ernie review the Altoona trip. These trips were fresh in our minds, and we savored every moment of the retelling.

Then the discussion settled on Mr. Calvin and his perceptions of the game today, and the mood turned somber. I said, “The thing that got to me the most about what he said was when he missed the pure beauty of the golf course—the lush, green fairways, the brilliant white sand, even the smells in the air of freshly mown grass. I miss that too when I think about it. I can remember as a kid, whenever we would pass by a golf course in the car, how I would always have my face glued to the window as we went past. And how whenever we would fly anywhere, my eyes were always looking for golf courses below—seeing the beautifully mown, green fairways and greens from overhead. They looked so cool from up there, in contrast to their surroundings. And I know what he meant by the odors of a golf course. I even enjoyed the faint whiff of the chemicals they used to keep the course looking green and healthy. I know that sounds weird, but it was all part of the experience. Is it just me, or did you guys feel anything like that?”

“It’s not just you… “ said Ernie, but he trailed off in thought.

“When I was a kid,” said Paul, “I lived a few blocks from a golf course. During the summer after dinner, I would put my bag over my shoulder and ride my bike to the back of the course, where I would meet my buddies, including you, Kevin. Ernie, you didn’t play golf yet. We would lay our bikes in the weeds and hop a fence to sneak in a few holes before dark. We would play until we could hardly see the ball anymore and had to go by the feel and sound of it to try to find it in the dark after we’d hit it. I remember the sound of the crickets coming on as night fell, and the dew forming on the grass. It was so peaceful out there. We were the only ones around, and we could play as fast or as slowly as we wanted with no one else around to bother us. And some of the trees had a certain smell to them that seemed to come out at night. Remember that? It was a magical time to play.”

I had never heard Paul wax so rhapsodic. “Yeah, I do. Do you remember how Art said the game just ‘works its way into your soul?’ He was right about that. If the game were gone, there are just so many things about it I surely would miss, now that I think about it, and it sounds like you both would too. Like the feel in your hands when you catch a ball right in the center of the clubface and watch it soar through the air and land exactly where you pictured it would in your mind. Or watching a flop shot from deep rough arc over a bunker to a tucked pin and coming almost straight down to a quick halt right by the stick for an easy tap-in.”

“I can only dream about that last one,” said Ernie. “Haven’t quite perfected that shot yet, but I know what you mean.”

“Well, guys, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this since we left the course yesterday, and I think I may have a way to save all of this. It almost feels like we were sent on a mission yesterday for this very purpose—to rediscover or reinforce our genuine love for the game—we who are in a position to do something about it. Look at us: a mechanical engineer, an electrical engineer, and a computer genius. What more would we need to create the ultimate golf simulator—something so far removed from today’s current simulators—that could be configured to allow you to play the game pretty much any way you might want to?”