Leonard Bracknell went a long way to make sure his son, Chandler, made it to his pre-k class at Maxwell Elementary School on time the first day of school.
Right around 160 miles, actually.
A Staff Seargent in the Georgia Air National Guard, he came home for the first day, walked Chandler into the Maxwell Elementary cafeteria to join the other students, then returned to his assignment back in Savannah.
"Being in the military, I've missed a lot of his life so far, and this wasn't something that was going to come back around" Staff Sgt. Bracknell said. "I wasn't going to miss that - his first day of school ever."
Staff Sgt. Bracknell - who'll be heading overseas on assignment soon - is a great testament to the way families should be. After all, he made a 160-mile journey just to take his son to school on the first day. Some parents wouldn't even make the trip across town.
So there's this study out that says amateur golfers are an unhealthy bunch.
Admittedly, Golf Digest's "study" was actually a web poll of subscribers that looked at their playing, exercise and eating habits. (And no, I did not participate in the study. Not that the results would have changed, mind you.)
I'm just amazed that they needed a poll to back that up. I mean, do you really need to look outside in the morning to confirm that the sun is up?
As for those amateur duffers, how can a group that spends the majority of its time on the golf course scooting around in little cars and lifting weights 12 cold ounces at a time be healthy? (Not to mention the pounds and pounds of candy bars, hot dogs and other snacks we gorge upon.)
I'm trying to do better - not on the eating side, but on the riding side. The last couple of times I've played, I've made a point to walk. Sure, I've huffed and puffed, and hobbled my way around for the next couple of days, but I'm enjoying golf more than ever.
Now if I could just figure out a way to not crush the big sack of potato chips in my golf bag.
Speaking of catching my breath, I'm still giggling from watching my wife try to sew Sunday.
She's making party favors for a small gathering she's planning, and the process provided the perfect showcase for her domestic skills.
Or lack thereof.
To start with, it took us almost an hour to get the bobbin threaded and the machine ready for action.
Then, it bogged down on the first run. Seven hours later, she had finished 30 - we counted twice - washcloths with a pink-and-white polka dotted ribbon accent.
Admittedly, though, those 30 washrags - coupled with the half dozen or so outdoor cushions she sewed last year - are more than I ever thought would ever be produced using that sewing machine.
Maybe it's just ornery from underuse.