For years whenever someone would offer me a ride in his golf cart, my answer was that when I reached 92 years and was in lousy shape I might consider a ride.

On June 10th of 1998 I was forced to recognize my mortality. Willis Knox and I had just started our morning round of golf. I had just hit my third shot on the first hole when I was unable to get a breath. I told Willis that I had to quit. I saw him walk down about 150 yards and pick up my ball. I saw him start back.

The next thing I knew I was in Ted Bryan's golf cart. There I was, a lot younger than 92 and riding in a cart. I drifted in and out of consciousness as we made it down off the course and up to the ambulance which was up on the road. Ted was in the foursome following Willis and me. Willie Wall, who was in the foursome behind them had seen what was going on and had returned to the club house to call for the ambulance.

I remember being put on the gurney and entering the ambulance. From then on I drifted in and out of consciousness as we made our way to the hospital.

The next thing I knew I was on a gurney in the emergency room. The doctor was cutting my clothes off me. When it got to my shorts I found that I had disgraced myself. It had been my understanding that this was the last thing a person does when he dies. I asked if I had died. Not quite. At the same time I saw my wonderful friend, Willis, sitting in the corner of the emergency room.

They got me cleaned up and into the critical care room at St. John's. I stayed until some time the next day when I was transferred to intensive care at St. Vincent's Hospital in Portland.

I don't remember a lot about the days there. I was put into my own room the day after arriving there. The one thing I do remember was that they did try to make the meals edible. This is in contrast to most of my hospital experiences.

On about the fourth day of my being there it was decided to put in a pacemaker defilbilizer in my chest.

The only bad thing about this was that I couldn't drive for six months. My doctor wrote on my discharge that I couldn't drive. I lived by his rule for six weeks. In the meantime, I had checked with my insurance company and found that my Oregon doctor was holding me hostage to Oregon law. I made an appointment with a Longview cardiologist and he said to go ahead and drive but just don't drive in Oregon.

During the time I couldn't drive, it was wonderful the number of people who volunteered to give me rides any place I wanted to go. However, it was such an inconvenience having to ask for rides to just go to the store. Lynn and Dick Benson, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law took me all over. They even took me for several weeks to my little church at Cathlamet, Washington, which is 25 miles west of Longview. They had told their Episcopal priest that they would miss their church until I could drive again. Thank God for my Longview cardiologist who made it possible for me to drive myself.

As Arnold Palmer says, "It's a lot better looking down at the grass than looking up at it".