My Old Boss Revisited

Two years after the extended invitation I went to Tucson.

Initially, for a day, preceding a church mission trip and then for five years to work a University of Arizona swim camp. Bill and wife Janie indeed had a lovely southwestern home bordering the Coronado National Forest. The blue skies and gorgeous sunsets were as advertised. Hot as Hades, but dry—sunbaked dry.
I stayed a week or two each year depending on the camp schedule, comfortably ensconced in their adjoining guest house complete with swimming pool and access to transportation (Cadillac or Mercedes). Meals with the family, sports on TV (including a memorable Rocco vs. Tiger highlight), card games at night and rounds of golf at Arizona National were visit highlights.

Desert golf was an eye opener. Course wildlife included untold jackrabbits, prairie dogs, roaming javelinas and one second hole bobcat daring me to hit an approach that might require him to move. Where the lush fairways stopped unfamiliar waste areas awaited. Rock hard turf populated with native stones and spiny cacti sent Bill tumbling more than once as he scoured the terrain for lost balls.

A word about balls. Bill retired well with pensions from two banks. Janie has a PhD and was an immensely successful educator. My point is Bill could have played Pro VI’s, losing two sleeves a round and think nothing of it. But instead he hit Top Flites because they had always served him well. His short game continued to be exasperating for opponents. He could putt. He remained a straight ball striker as evidenced by his career six holes in one.

From Bill I got a short course in the process of aging. He still shot better scores than I, his 78’s finally drifting into the mid-80’s. However, as his frequency of play decreased so did his stamina. On my second visit Bill asked what I thought about him moving to the forward tees. He was reluctant to do so until I produced a story I had written for Virginia Golfer on that very subject. A main point of golf is to to have fun I told him. If fun meant a lower score on a shorter field of play he ought to do it I said. Our future rounds were played from combo tees. Ever a man, Bill couldn’t quite bring himself to play from the reds.

One thing that did not change however were the rules of engagement. Often prior to play a close friend would ask “Are we playing by the Bill Craig rules?” That’s because everyone knew that there were the USGA rules, and then there were the Bill Craig rules. Those meant that you were free to move the ball to your advantage. “Within the leather” was a standard. Teeing a ball up on a mound of fairway turf was perfectly acceptable. “Bill was an expert on the USGA Rules,”
Janie said, “and bent them in his favor — and extended the same to everyone else.”

I envied the Craig’s existence. They were at peace: lovely home, active church life, close friends, Janie’s hiking and golf. Bill became an avid reader often falling asleep with a book on his lap. In time age began to take hold and his golf lessened — and ultimately ceased. On my last visit I was encouraged to play by myself.

The end of Bill’s days came January 7, 2021, two months short of his 91 st birthday. Surrounded by family and friends he drifted comfortably into the arms of the Lord. Janie buried Bill next to his first wife on a cold, blustery day in Virginia, his first adopted home. It was a solemn ceremony attended by assorted Craigs, former colleagues and at least one champion Virginia golfer.

In a bizarre way I had wondered about the contents of the casket. Three days before burial I got my answer in a cryptic email from Janie. It read:

“This morning I selected, boxed and mailed Bill’s burial clothes to the funeral home in Richmond — and shed another garden of tears! Not the 3-piece suit you might expect, but his favorite attire: his YMCA golf shirt, golf slacks, USGA Rules of Golf and a Top Flite golf ball.”

That was Bill – a golfer to the end!