Monday, April 7, 2025 - Day 237

Monday, April 7, 2025

Good morning and welcome to Monday. This isn’t just any Monday—it’s the beginning of The Masters. Cue the music of chirping birds, the slow pans of azaleas in full bloom, and the seven-foot bronze statue of Arnold Palmer.

Exactly a year ago today, we were walking the hallowed grounds of Augusta National for a Monday practice round. I know, I know—it was just a practice round. But saying that out loud feels like calling a diamond “just a rock.” This is one of the most sought-after tickets in golf, and somehow, we were there.

The whole experience felt like we’d stepped into a postcard. Everything was perfect—serene, polished, glowing in that Augusta kind of way. Oh, and did I mention it was the day of the eclipse? As if the universe said, “Sure, here’s a little extra magic for you.” We were handed branded Masters eclipse glasses at the gate (because of course they were branded). Slipping them on, I felt like a kid in a candy store—overstimulated, buzzing with joy, wanting to sprint in all directions at once just to take it all in.

We made our way to Amen Corner, where the tournament is often won or lost on Sunday. But on this Monday morning, the dew still blanketed the grass, and a line of groundskeepers walked in unison, sweeping the fairways with long dew whips. I’ve never seen anything like it—it was almost ceremonial. The kind of thing that makes you whisper, even though there’s no sign that says you should.

Honestly, Disney could take notes. The attention to detail, the joyful obedience of the crowd, the impossibly polite staff and volunteers… it all creates this surreal feeling like you’re part of something sacred. And when they give you an instruction? You nod like you’re being knighted.

Now, a little behind-the-scenes story: we stood in line for the merchandise shop, which wrapped around like a conga line of consumerism. We’re talking an hour-long wait. But here’s the catch—everyone was cheerful. No grumbling, no line-cutters, no “excuse me, my friend is up there” nonsense. Just happy golf nerds excited to part with their money.

Inside, Cindy picked up a shirt, saw the price, and made a face like she’d just eaten a lemon. She started to put it back when I told her, “Don’t look at the price tag or you’ll leave empty-handed.” She turned to me and said, “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

We laughed, filled our basket, and somehow still wanted more. Because how often do you get to shop inside that logo? A bucket-list item, checked—and then underlined twice. We didn’t see tournament play, but we walked Augusta. We felt its heartbeat. By the end of the day, we were blissfully exhausted, full of overpriced sandwiches ($1.50!) and underpriced beer ($6!). Total cost? $100 per ticket. The memories? Priceless. The cost of the merch…well it took all summer to pay for that spree.

Then off to have our photo professionally taken…and they don’t even want money. It just keeps getting better.

Yesterday’s post brought in some truly heartwarming responses. I felt like I had my own little highlight reel of encouragement and kindness to replay all day.

Then came the cherry on top: a surprise text from Shana (Cindy’s cousin Donna’s daughter). Her company has a “Sharing Committee” that supports community causes, and they chose our story—my ALS journey—to receive financial support. It was tied to a transportation theme, and apparently, my scooter story struck a chord. They loved the idea of someone getting back outside, rejoining morning walks with Cindy and Bear. And just like that, they offered to cover part of the scooter cost. Completely unexpected. Completely overwhelming.

It turns out Donna and Joe’s surprise dinner visit last night wasn’t just about visiting—it was to be there for the big reveal. More tears. More hugs. More proof that we’re surrounded by love.

Shana didn’t just submit a story—she gave us a gift we’ll never forget. Nicole called it Andy’s Army when she rallied a team to run the Chicago Marathon for ALS. And let me tell you—this army shows up. They don’t just march; they carry us.

Thank you, Shana. You made an emotional moment feel like a victory lap.

Have a terrific Monday! I feel great this morning…I don’t even mind the happy grateful tears rolling down my cheeks as I reread this post. Isn’t life grand?

Love you guys! ❤️