Where's the hole?
We ride at dawn!!!
You like that little hole?
Why hasn't the beer girl found us?
Hurry, get in! I'll explain later.
Joeleen, I need you to take your pants off.
I'm taking this pine cone home. Does anyone have any peanut butter?
It's in the bag...it's ALWAYS in the bag.
Better than Amber's.
Still better than Amber's.
You are not a midget. You just have a teeny tiny pole.
You want me to take a picture of this?
I have to go impress ya'll now.
We are not hitting on each other, we are just having fun.
We're going to the red box...where's the red box? Fuck...We just passed the red box.
Take me to pee!
I got a hole in 12.
Is that a squirrel? A rat? It's a fucking baby kangaroo!
Struttin that ass...
Is this what Joeleen playing looks like?
That rat squirrel needs to get fucked up.
I have a song for every moment today.
That was close...except you hit the ground instead of the ball.
I'm a great ball sniffer.
And our motto of the day no matter what we did..."I did it for Dane!"
This last weekend, we played in the first annual golf tournament benefiting Dane's daughter, Journee. Though he is no longer here, he left her a unique group of friends that are dedicated to keeping his memory alive. I say unique because that's a nice way of saying we are all crazy in one way or the other. I have never met a more diverse group of people than those Dane called friend.
Dane was a story teller and he was a great one at that. One of the wonderful gifts he left us is being able to tell Journee every aspect of his life (whether we were there or not) with one of his stories.
Most times when the story starts with..."This one time Dane..." you know that it more than likely began with either a bottle of vodka or a snake and ended with someone getting their ass kicked or being scared shitless. Regardless of the story, it is guaranteed to make you laugh. Only Dane could make an ass kicking funny. Since his death, I have heard so many good, "This one time Dane" stories. I have some of my own. Neither of these stories end with an ass whooping, but the first could have if Dane wouldn't have done some fast thinking to find my dog.
Benny, my Chihuahua, is not a fan of the lake house. When we go there for the weekend, he has to stay locked in the bathroom while we are on the boat. After hours of listening to him cry at the door, Dane put him outside. He realized his mistake instantly, as Benny ran off and would not come when Dane called him. It probably didn't help that Dane didn't know his name. So he knocked on the neighbor's door, "Hey, I'm Wayland's brother. I need to borrow your old lady." For whatever reason, the neighbor's "old lady" put a pause to her lovemaking (yup, that's what they were doing when Dane banged on their door) and agreed to come outside with Dane and call Benny back into the house. Dane had rationalized that Benny would come home to a woman's voice. And he did. All was well, no ass kicking ensued. I did, however, hear about how terrible my dog was for the rest of the night. "Why didn't you just leave him in the bathroom?" I asked him. "Because...he needed to take a piss." Good enough reason, I guess.
This next story doesn't involve me, but is my favorite by far. It is simple and sweet. This one time Dane...prayed for me. Every night. For 87 days, he held my hand and prayed for me. As much as I love hearing the , "no fucks given" stories of Dane, it's nice to sometimes see the softer side of the man.
A lot of times when people die, we glorify their life, their existence, put them on a pedestal that they may or may not deserve to be on. I think it's safe to say in Dane's case the pedestal was built for him...we didn't have to place him on it. For all the stupid shit he did he had a heart of gold, and he would pray for you. Before you asked, even if you didn't want him to.
After the tournament, I watched a blonde hair, blue eyed replica of Dane squeal in delight as she watched a dog run across the yard. I saw her Daddy in every facial expression and my heart broke with the knowledge that this little girl will grow up without her Dad. At the same time, I found solace in knowing that Dane left behind such a big support group of friends and loved ones that will carry on his stories so that his little girl will know exactly everything there is to know about the man, the legend...Dane Crum...the bestest.