Happy Birthday Tribute

It’s Wednesday, April 14th, 2021 and it would have been my beloved Skip’s 76th birthday. Our morning would have started like any other day, sharing coffee and conversation about what the day held in store for us. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’d be playing golf together. This morning has me swimming through the memories we made and the indelible impression that this tender big hearted, twinkling-eyed man made on my life.

Skip had an effervescent spirit that was highly contagious. I witnessed his magic in one on one interactions with others as well as in large groups. I recall being at a huge banking dinner party in Philadelphia. After dinner, the guests began to make their way to the dance floor. People swayed to the music while conversations from the dinner tables mingled in the air. The band struck a few chords of a new song and Skip literally sprang from his chair and burst on to the dance floor like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Skip owned the Hustle….and he was about to bring the house down. All dinner conversation stopped and the dance crowd suddenly became energized and excited. Everyone on that dance floor fell under Skip’s magic and into dance lines as if choreographed. Smiles erupted on faces as feet fell into step with him, hands were clapping in rhythm. Everyone was caught in the magic of my husband – his energy, his enthusiasm, his love of music and dancing and best of all how he loved to share this part of himself so freely with others. I can close my eyes and relive that moment as if it were happening right now. It is seared into my memory banks and filed under “Never Forget This Moment.”

When I pull that memory out and soak up its goodness, I remember just how proud I was in that moment to be his wife. He magically gave others permission to let loose, to lose their inhibitions, to actually feel the music and respond to it. As I stood there watching him, he locked eyes with me and winked. That was our secret signal…that wink of his told me he was in his happy place. I could almost hear him whisper “Watch this” the same way a 10 year old boy would as he’s about to try something that would stop a mother’s heart.

It is not surprising to have folks who were at that event still comment to me about Skip on the dance floor and how it felt like they were all in a scene from a movie. That is just one of the lasting gifts that Skip gave to me and others. Those incredible moments when he would make time stand still and work his big magic.

Whenever there was a wedding, a dinner party at our golf club, or a banking function, everyone knew they could count on Skip to bring the party to life. I recall a New Year’s Eve party at Chester Valley where the DJ was just not striking the right chord with his music choices for the crowd. Skip jotted down a few song choices on a cocktail napkin and handed it to the guy with that knowing wink. As soon as “I Got You (Feel Good)” by James Brown started playing that dance floor was rocking. Skip and I closed the place down that night and laughed the whole drive home about how much fun it was.

Perhaps music was the legacy he was weaving all through his life and the timeless gift that he still continues to give to me. Skip’s love of music came from his heart. Songs seemed to talk to him, made him feel connected and understood, gave him hope and inspiration. When we were dating, he’d make me mixed cassette tapes full of the songs that had deep meaning to him. He’d write a detailed letter that accompanied each tape. The name of the song and the artist, what that song meant to him or was meant to convey to me and often why he chose a specific artist’s rendition of the song. I’d listen to these mixed tapes every day as I would commute to and from work. I fell deeper in love with Skip as I let these songs tell me more about him.

Skip was born in Rio de Janeiro and that must have influenced him by the very air he breathed for he loved Latin music and the richness of Spanish as a language. He was fluent in Spanish and he loved to take my hands in his, look into my eyes and then shower me with something beautiful in Spanish. He was right, the language is romantic and rich and it went straight to my heart. I used to tease him that he could be telling me that the oil in my car needed to be changed, but if he said it in Spanish, I’d melt.

He loved Gloria Estefan and her song, Con los Anos Que Me Quedan, was his personal favorite. He wrote me a letter where he handwrote the lyrics in both Spanish and English. He made comments in the margins about places where the English language fell short in conveying the depth of meaning in that beautiful song. If I had a rung on a ladder for every time I have listened to this song over more than 20 years, I would have a golden ladder straight to heaven.

Skip and I were on a vacation in the Bahamas with another couple many years ago. He was golfing during the day and I had gone scuba diving. As we were getting ready for dinner, we shared the highlights of our different experiences that day and decided that we would try each other’s passion. That evening, after dinner, Skip discreetly asked the DJ to play a special song. He walked back to our table, took my hand and led me to the dance floor. The song was “Unforgettable”, the duet with Natalie and Nat King Cole. He whispered to me how happy he was because I was willing to learn golf.

Little did I know that I would come to love the game of golf as much as Skip did. And yes, he came to love scuba diving as I did, marveling at the wonders and beauty that lies under the oceans.

It only dawned on me recently that Skip’s encouragement for me to learn golf, like music ,was yet another gift that he gave to me for after he was gone.

He often shared with me that after a long hectic day in the office, he’d find solace and rejuvenation by playing 9 holes of golf in the evening by himself. He loved walking the course, hearing his clubs clanging together in step with his long gait. He’d take in the rich verdant greens of the various cuts of grass on the course and let his eyes rest on the long sunset shadows stretching across the fairways. He confided that this time alone on the course was how he grounded himself. For a man who was an extravert and surrounded by people all day long, his sanctuary was the golf course in the evening.

Skip taught me both the skills of the game and the etiquette of golf. Frankly, both are complex to a beginner. Yet I could readily see how the skills and the etiquette resonated so organically with Skip. He was a committed hard worker and his grandfather, a highly decorated Admiral in the U S Navy, had instilled impeccable manners in him.

The skills of his game came through lessons, practice and patience. He was a scratch golfer who loved to compete. What I came to observe was that the truest test of his competitiveness was with himself. He was always striving to better his personal best. He was a copious record-keeper of his rounds of golf and he taught me how this helped him identify the parts of his game that needed work. Over time I came to understand that this analysis is what led him to be a master of the short game and putting. Again, I am blessed with a memory of him teaching me to chip onto a green using a pendulum example one evening at Chester Valley Golf Course. He had a gift for giving me a relatable image to help me grasp the concept.

He had an eye for reading greens that was unlike anyone I’ve ever met. We had countless hours of fun putting on greens from various angles so that I learn this for myself. To this day, I often hear his words in my ears as I assess a putt. As for golf etiquette, I quickly learned that most golfers will happily put up with your errant shots and high handicap if you respect the rules and camaraderie of the game.

I witnessed over many years how Skip forged long-time friendships over rounds of golf. This was yet another invaluable lesson that he taught me — you can learn a lot about a person in 4 hours of golf. Skip was a good judge of character and had a knack for seeing potential in others that they might not see themselves. From him, I learned how to interact with others on the golf course that would be more helpful than a hindrance. Honestly I had no idea just how much psychology goes into the game of golf.

I do know that I was so very proud of him when the wives of his friends would ask to be paired with us for couples golf events because they felt comfortable with Skip in the foursome. Putting others at ease was his gift. Not letting others’ games and behaviors distract him from his own game was his superpower. Skip had friends all over the globe who loved playing golf with him. When he passed away, there was an annual tournament established in his honor by an international banking group. Oh the stories I’ve heard over the years from those who loved watching him pull off an incredulous shot, or patiently teach them a trick or two.

As I reflect on it today, I realize that golf keeps me connected to Skip in some magical, incredible way, just like the songs that became “ours.” When he passed away, I played a lot of 9 holes by myself at Chester Valley in the evenings and though I was overcome by grief, I felt his presence and it was comforting. I was such a new golfer when Skip died, but I can still hear his words of encouragement or advice when I am standing over some shots. I only used a 5 iron off the tee when he was still alive, so when I conquered using a driver, I’d cast my eyes to heaven and say “I bet you are loving this, Skip.” I think that through osmosis I learned to be like him when playing golf with others. When someone tells me that they’ve enjoyed my company after a round of golf, I think to myself that I have honored Skip. He was so passionate about the game. I have made so many friends over these past 18 years through golf and they have filled some of the empty spaces in my heart.

Skip encouraged me to learn the game he loved. He taught me how to find some peace and solace in the evening on a golf course. He taught me to keep striving to get better — at life as well as golf and to be kind and respectful in the process. He taught me that if you need a friend, go hit the links. You are likely to make a friend for life over a round of golf.

I was fondly recalling my last round of golf at Chester Valley Golf Course in Malvern, Pennsylvania today. It was a few years after Skip passed away and I was moving back to Lancaster County. My brother, who is one of my greatest sources of comfort, joined me for this special goodbye round. My brother and I always have fun playing golf and he has such a gentle way about him. Throughout the round, we shared our fondest memories of playing that course with Skip. As we were walking the fairway approaching the 14th green, a rain shower appeared out of no where. By the time we reached the green, the rain clouds were drifting away from us and the sun was trying to peek out. The 14th green was one of the trickiest on the course and my ball was judge on the edge, a very long downhill putt over a multi-level undulating green. My brother was laughing at my predicament, thinking that my putt would end up off the green and I’d be chipping back on. As he bantered, I assessed the situation and stood over my ball. I moved only my head to turn and look at my brother and I stated “Skip says…..just breathe on it.” I barely tapped that golf ball and we both watched in amazement as it rolled slowly downhill, curving one way and then the other……until it dropped right into the center of the cup! My brother was cheering in amazement and as he ran up to congratulate me, he noticed the most spectacular rainbow in the sky overhead. As he pulled me into a hug, he said “I think Skip saw that one, Amy.” I was awestruck….and still am today as I treasure that memory.

Tonite I am going out to play 9 holes of golf at twilight, by myself. I will be honoring the love of my life and thanking him for all the songs that forever remind me of him and for how he expanded my life and my heart. Happy Birthday up in heaven, Skip Davis.

I have these StoryPeople pieces in my collection in honor of Skip

Lyrics to Con los Anos Que Me Quedan:



March 2016

What could be better than a fun girlfriend getaway to a tropical paradise?  Why, adding golf to the mix of course!

My three Pennsylvania friends were more than happy to escape the snow, ice and cold of the Northeast and head to warm, sun-drenched Montego Bay, Jamaica.  The treat for me was the rare chance to spend quality time with three fun women I haven’t seen in a very long time.


Shelby, Bonnie, Diane and Amy

Diane, Shelby, Bonnie and I spent four fun-filled days together, playing two rounds of golf at Cinnamon Hill and one at White Witch.   We weren’t sure the caddies really helped our games, but we were sure they had side bets on us each day.  Each of us reveled in each others “shots of the day” and we weren’t too shy about celebrating them!  There was an abundance of laughter throughout our rounds, shaking off bad shots in a hurry and delighting in each other’s company and comraderie.

Signature Hole Par 3 on White Witch Golf Course

I’d been to Rose Hall, Montego Bay, about six years ago with twenty women from Lancaster Country Club on our annual Women’s Winter Getaway. I had a lot of notable memories from that trip and the friendships that were forged over golf, poolside chats, and late night drinks. Since my golf game has improved since then, I was also eager to take on the White Witch course one more time. I recalled that it was incredibly beautiful with many elevation changes.  It didn’t disappoint!  Shelby and I had our best rounds of the week on that course.

One of the most pleasurable parts of a girls golf trip is the leisurely poolside lunches sipping frosty cocktails, reliving the golf round (possibly embellishing it), soaking up the sun, the breeze and friendship.

Afternoons were spent relaxing on lounge chairs facing the ocean, solving the world’s problems and sharing stories of family and our fantastic grandchildren.

One night was utter chaos when a spontaneous thunderstorm forced the outdoor Jamaican fiesta indoors.  Who knew that Chex Mix and cocktails would have to hold us over for hours while we waited for dry seats and dinner?  As often happens, the best times often come from interrupted plans.  We made some new friends at the bar that evening!

Each evening as we made our way back to our rooms, Diane and I would pass the energetic Jamaican entertainers and it was like a siren call to me!  I can’t resist a dance floor and rocking tropical music.  Most of the time my dance partners were small children whose parents were too shy to join them — hey, someone has to be in the initiator…or is it instigator?  Those talented Jamaican women dancers taught me a few new moves.  I’ve got to remember that dancing like that is one of the most fun forms of exercise on the planet!

The days flew by much too fast but the memories of our good times and friendship will last forever.

White Witch Clubhouse, Rose Hall, Jamaica









Thanks for the Memories…

Unknown   A box of old photos, some faded letters and a sterling silver teapot swaddled in bubblewrap arrived on the doorstep.  There was a handwritten note with little pink hearts nestled in the tissue paper.

That personal note recalled memories brought to life by this box of treasures.  Reading the note conjured the images of a little blonde-haired girl laughing as she tore the wrapping paper off a Christmas present, of a smiling couple cutting a tiered cake while music, laugher and conversation drifted in the background.  Poignantly, the heartfelt note conveyed some lasting, loving experiences shared with a husband who passed away much too soon.

Fourteen years had slipped by since he died.  Teenagers were now married adults with children of their own.  Family and friends were now retired, had moved, dealt with health issues, or also passed away.   In the blink of an eye, 14 years of life happened.


Recently, my daughter and I had been sifting through moving boxes in a hot, humid garage sorting out what to keep, what to donate and what to discard.  Suddenly we both broke into tears and laughter as we gazed at old photos and touched treasured keepsakes.  Memories of vacations, holidays, adventures and milestones came to life as we both warmly shared our fondest experiences.

It was as if the entire garage had been turned into a live stage and dozens of life’s vignettes were being acted out right before our eyes.  We laughed till tears ran down our cheeks.  We rolled our eyes at bad hairdo’s and our fashion faux pas.  We grew silent in personal reflection as we read his postcards and letters to us.

Our memories were more alive than ever.  Suddenly it was like the 14 years had vanished and we were reliving the highlight clips of our lives.

A fascinating observation about memories is how each of us has a different perspective, poignant moment or touchpoint that resonates with us.  The memory is enhanced by each of us adding our personal details.

It becomes richer in color, more alive and subsequently, a more vivid memory.


We carefully boxed up some  photos, letters, and the silver and shipped them to his sister.   I could envision her surprise and rush of memories as she unpacked the treasures.

What I had not anticipated was the gift I would receive in return — a lengthy note back to me chock full of her own beautiful memories of her brother and her grandmother.  Some of these stories were new to me and others I’d forgotten.  Now I could watch a movie in my head of another young girl with bouncing curls on a New York shopping spree with her doting grandmother many decades ago.


I’ve learned a few noteworthy things from my recent trip down memory lane.

  • Memories are best when shared.
  • Memories are inspirational and often serve as reminders of what is most important in our busy lives.  Make time for your loved ones.
  • Each of us has a filter through which we process an experience.  Be mindful of other’s filters and appreciative of their perspective.
  • Most importantly, memories can remind us just how much we were and are loved.



Inspired by BreatheShelleyGirl and her post ” I love you. Have a cookie.”