at Luke shudders to think what her life would be like had she not won a contest sponsored by a Williamsburg radio station 10 years ago. There is every reason to believe that the ParTee Girls might never have been born.
It was a contest, by the way, that she never entered. Unbeknownst to her, someone— to this day she knows not who— entered her name. The prize: A full membership to the Golden Horseshoe Golf Club.
With a full-time job at William & Mary, Luke played golf twice a year, didn’ t own clubs and knew one rule: You couldn’ t tee the ball in the fairway.
Having caddied for the rich and petulant at a private Pittsburgh club as a teenager, husband Ed Luke wanted no part of the game. But he knew an omen when he saw one.“ Take advantage of this,” he told her. She took a few lessons, but had almost no one to play with. Her girlfriends played on the weekend, with their husbands. What little time she spent on Golden Horseshoe’ s Spotswood course, she mostly spent alone.
Late in 2010, Ed Luke was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. His oncologist told them to“ have the talk,” for Ed to tell Pat what he’ d like to see her do when he was gone. He’ d say,“ Go to that course.”
Given no more than nine months to live, Ed Luke fought for 3½ years. When time permitted, Pat played the Spotswood, meeting and forging friendships with other women. Some of their husbands would even sit with Ed so that Pat could take a break.
Ed died in February 2014. Encouraged by her best friend and mentored by Golden Horseshoe head professional Jeff Winters, Luke founded the ParTee Girls about two months later. She was so thorough, so diligent in getting the group off the ground that the initial class of 24 dubbed her“ The Commish.”
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“ It was so important because it gave me something else to focus on,” Luke said.“ People needed me— and I needed people to need me. My phone was ringing. People were emailing me. People would expect me to be somewhere … I needed structure, and once these women found out how important this was to me, they were my biggest supporters.”
While acknowledging that she’ s no grief counselor, Luke said she is bothered by the fact that none of the professionals she saw after Ed’ s death addressed her future.
“ They seemed to focus on grieving your spouse,” she said.“ Instead, I think, they should be teaching you how to live your life without your spouse. Focus on what’ s next. Not one of them ever said anything about taking up golf. But when they’ d ask me what made me happy, I’ d say‘ Being with my girlfriends, being out on the golf course.’”
That bond has only grown stronger. Each Wednesday from April to October, the ParTee Girls gather to play the Spotswood, and to enjoy a glass of wine or two afterwards. There are no cliques; The Commish mixes and matches the women so that everyone gets to know everyone. She charges an annual $ 25 non-refundable fee which goes to tipping the course marshals and to pay for a postseason party. The women pay for their own golf.
This isn’ t golf the way the Royal & Ancient envisioned it. Luke frequently devises“ games” the women play while on the course, like“ Luck Be a Lady.” Each foursome rolls a die before leaving the clubhouse; the result becomes the group’ s“ magic number.”
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Pat Luke, right, founded the ParTee Girls after her husband Ed died in 2014. The impact of the therapeutic alliance extends far beyond golf.
Then at each tee, they roll again. If the number matches their magic number, the group deducts a stroke from its score for that hole.
“ Look, I’ m a 34 handicap,” Luke said.“ I’ m never going to be a good golfer. We don’ t care what your score is. It’ s about having fun.”
Luke said she’ d happily instruct women anywhere in the country in how to form their own chapter of ParTee Girls. That’ s how strongly she believes in its therapeutic power.
It turns out Luke isn’ t the only woman who has used being a ParTee Girl as a coping mechanism. Several women have become widows since joining the group. Others have endured divorces. Four have been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Group membership has grown to 60; Luke estimates one-fourth of them have battled or are battling a serious problem.
“ They know they can come here and be completely themselves,” she said.“ We play a different game each week. We want you to laugh. That’ s why we do it.”
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LISA CUMMING |