The NCW and I, both members of the same high school class from a small northern Minnesota school district, took a drive north to visit my high school tennis coach, now retired in Florida, north of Tampa. And his wife. Paul promised me some competitive tennis and a chance to play outside on clay courts (actually called hartru) after several months restricted to hard courts inside inflatable tennis bubbles and high ceilinged buildings. He, himself, is currently having shoulder problems, so he wasn't able to participate, except as cheerleader, coach, and commentator for NCW's benefit. The tennis was played in the afternoon on a private court nestled in an orange orchard, and unfortunately for NCW, infested with biting no-see-ums. Dan was my partner, and we played against Dave and O.T. The tennis was fun and competitive as promised and the guys sociable. I'd play again with any of them in a heartbeat. From left to right: Dave, Dan, Paul, me, O.T.
One of numerous action shots taken by NCW during the tennis action. I was serving, but close inspection reveals that I foot faulted on the serve. No one noticed and play continued. I thought I was more careful than that, but it was a friendly contest and, I guess, of small consequence in the grand scheme of things. We played three sets over two plus hours. 6-3, 7-6, 6-2. Pretty good tennis and a good way to spend an afternoon in Spring Hill.
Our host and hostess at their home after the tennis was done and a hearty dinner consumed at the country club at their retirement community. We spent quite a while remembering Greenway High School and the folk who peopled it in the early 1960's, including teachers, coaches and students. When Paul asked the North Country Woman (NCW) what was the worst thing she did in high school, NCW had a hilarious story about Latin Class. One should ask her to repeat the story, but it's best not to repeat the story to her children or grandchildren.
On the way back from Spring Hill we drove through Tampa and St Pete so that we could take the Skyway Bridge across Tampa Bay on US 275. We stopped at the rest area almost to Bradenton where we were able to get some guy named Bob to take our photo with the bridge in the background. In exchange for which we took a photo of him.
In an interesting aside, Paul my high school tennis coach, just recently reconnected with his high school tennis coach who is in his 80's and still living in Maine. Paul was only 23 when he took on the coaching job at Greenway, and apparently his high school coach was also a youngster when Paul took up the game back in the 1950's or so.