The sun finally broke through and the humidity rose Thursday morning at Duston Country Club in Hopkinton.
And, coincidentally, that’s when Floyd Severance got hot as well.
Until then, he’d been complaining about his short game, saying “I’ve never putted this bad,” as he drove his golf cart – a bumpy, almost violent ride over roots and rocks – to hole No. 8.
On the green there, however, he nailed an 8-foot putt. Finally. Then he sank one from six feet on the last hole, No. 9, during the club’s weekly Senior League event.
“I’m happy about most of the day,” Severance told me.
Others were stunned. Have been, in fact, over the past few years, and that only grows with each passing day. People 97 years old simply don’t live alone, drive a Cadillac (or any other car), and shoot pars and bogeys at their local course.
In fact, the only reason Severance drives a golf cart these days at Duston is that someone in his family –which in this case means someone amongst his more than 50 children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren – insisted he use one, and that was just two years ago.
Even though Severance was a spry 95 at the time.
“We drink good whiskey,” was Severance’s explanation on how he moves, hears, sees and thinks like someone 20 years younger.
“Yes, good whiskey,” echoed veteran Duston golfer Fred Jennings, 88, who grew up in Goffstown and owns a farm.
Another senior playing partner in this foursome, Bill Crotti, has known Severance since moving to Henniker five years ago. I mentioned that Severance was good for his age. Good, in fact, for someone far younger.
“Why?” he asked. “How old is he?”
When told, Crotti’s mouth formed a classic oval of astonishment. “Wow,” he said.
The group’s fourth player declined to comment, but couldn’t resist saying, to no one in particular, “Inspirational.”
And Duston CC owner Bob White, addressing Severance’s durability, said, “He walked around in the senior league with no cart and he was leading the pack. Guys 15 years younger had trouble keeping up.”
He was already 68 when friends convinced Severance to start golfing in 1992. He learned quickly, saying he scored his first hole-in-one just two years later, at Plausawa Valley Country Club.
“I’ve always been comfortable with golf,” Severance said.
He’s won two Senior League championships at Duston, in 2007 and last year. His tee shots, some rising in a nice arc, others looking like ground balls at Fenway Park, travel as far as an estimated 170 feet.
He said he was always athletic and in fact played center field at Pembroke Academy. He said a lot more, and riding in a cart for nine holes with Severance and shooting the breeze is, well, a breeze. About life, golf, anything you want.
He’d drive his cart, search the fairway or trees for his ball, and recall hitting the beach in France during World War II, just six days after D-Day, June 6, 1944.
There’s been heartache. His son, John, died suddenly in his sleep at the age of 52. Might have been a hemorrhage. “You never get over these things,” Severance said. “Terrible to lose a child. A terrible thing.”
His wife, Judy, died in 2015. I thought our conversation was done there, wary of pushing too far. And besides, his three playing partners were calling Severance over to the first hole. 8 a.m. tee time.
But Severance wasn’t finished talking. He hadn’t spoken about Judy. As he climbed out of his cart before the first tee, he said, “She was the greatest thing God ever created and then threw away the mold.”
Severance drove his cart. The other three seniors walked, using wheeled pushcarts to carry their clubs.
They mentioned the big band sound at the Carousel in Manchester. They remembered dancing there, “back in the day.”
“Fond memories,” Jennings said. “Fond memories.”
Severance had a dinner date planned for Thursday night with a lady friend, Pauline, from high school. They shared experiences and common friends, and that comforted Severance.
“I was devastated when I lost my wife,” he said. “I didn’t know if I could go on.”
He did. He loves playing pool. He started painting scenes – barns, lighthouses – just a few years ago.
And he golfs.
They took turns out-driving each other. A lot of balls went straight. Some went into tall grass or leaned against rocks. Putting was a bigger problem. Seven feet too short. Ten feet too long.
Severance finally made a pair of putts on the final two holes. The sun broke through. It was a wonderful day to be 97.
“To be on a golf course, to me, that’s what makes the day,” Severance said. “Just to be out here is great.”