Jack Heacock and Golfer's Heaven
August 27, 2018
At Derryann and Monty MaGill’s BBQ honoring Jack Heacock, I wished to know more about the details of Jack’,s death. But, I didn’t wish to elicit more tears about this sad subject, so was hesitant to ask anyone — until I met Bill Heacock who is Jack’s son. Bill struck me as a very likable, stand-up guy who might not be offended by my potentially insensitive question. I had heard that Jack had fallen on a golf course, hit his head and died a day later — or sometime. Bill, verified this scenario but expanded some. It seems that Jack had been having some TIAs (transient ischemic attacks) previous to this fateful day and may have had a similar such stroke on the golf course that may have caused him to fall and hit his head. When he recovered some, he said he would drive himself to the hospital to have his head injury checked out. But, his golfing friends thought better of that idea and insisted on driving him to the hospital where he checked in. Obviously, the accident was much more serious than Jack might have imagined because he died a day or so later.
Well, it’s a very sad story and his family and friends were grief-stricken — and so was I when I heard the news. But, when Bill told me the details, I suddenly became very jealous. “Wow! What a way to go,” I thought. Now, I have no way of knowing how much pain Jack suffered before he died, but at least there was no long, lingering, unbearable pain such as many folks suffer at the end of their lives. Apparently, Jack was doing something that he loved to do and may not have been fretting about his incipient demise. It just happened.
Interestingly, Jack is not the only family member whose demise began on a golf course. Charles Knowles who was Grandma Fanny Knowles' brother, shared a similar experience.
Interestingly, Jack is not the only family member whose demise began on a golf course. Charles Knowles who was Grandma Fanny Knowles' brother, shared a similar experience.
Anyway, as I was lying partially awake about 3 AM this morning, I began to envision a scenario that Jack might have preferred. Somewhere, there is a golf course, where maybe the fifth hole is situated on the apex of a tall, volcano-like hill. Jack would pull out his favorite driver, positioned his ball on the T, swung mightily and hit that little ball so flat that there was absolutely no spin. Of course, there were hazards. On the right, there would be woods, grasses, and other rough stuff, and on the left several sand pits. But, Jack’s ball would not veer to either side, it would sail straight toward the green, climbing higher and higher as if it defied the laws of gravity. A hole-in-one was a distinct possibility. The follow-through trajectory of his club was perfect and was pointed toward the sky.
Then, a huge bolt of lightning struck his club, traveled down the shaft to his body and all that was left of Jack was a small pile of ashes on the ground. A Texas-sized whirlwind would come along, pick up those ashes and carry them high aloft on a thermal — like those that eagles and vultures use to gain altitude. Higher and higher those ashes flew until they almost reached a jet-stream. As they ascended, they passed through winds blowing in several directions, and so when Jack’s ashes began to settle back down to earth, they settled across the Rocky Mountains and the fruited plains — some landing in Yellowknife, Canada and some in Panama City, Panama — and points between and beyond.
OK, so I could never have read Jack’s mind, so he might or might not have had some serious objections to my perceived scenario. Who knows? But who can doubt the accuracy of my dream?
