Nolette Butler grabs a driver from her bag while golfing at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
Mary Lou Bledsoe, left, and Nolette Butler, right, prepare to tee off at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
Mary Lou Bledsoe tilted her head, a puzzled look forming on her wizened face as she listened to her clubmate, Kimberly Campbell. Bledsoe and Nalette Butler, each 99 years old, had just finished an 18-hole round of golf alongside a group of their friends.
Reminiscing on Bledsoe and Butler’s impact on the at Onion Creek Country Club, Campbell mentioned the day they stopped frequenting the course would be a sad one. She suggested during that mid-June afternoon that age might catch up to them and maybe they’d visit once a month rather than two to three times a week.
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“Every week they show,” Campbell said. “Rain or shine, for the most part. They still play tournaments to this day.”
Mary Lou Bledsoe, left, and Nolette Butler, right, talk while golfing at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
Bledsoe had heard her friend. She simply couldn’t fathom the idea. Curiosity and life radiated from her piercing blue eyes. In her mind, there’s no reason she would stop anytime soon. After all, the pair called Onion Creek their home course since before the Reagan administration. They’ve seen the surrounding area develop, played good rounds and bad, but never lost that love for the links.
“If I’m not capable, I guess I’ll stop… if I get in a wheelchair or something,” Bledsoe said. “But I don’t plan to do that.”
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Bledsoe and Butler join a trend of near-centenarian women who still make regular trips to the course — a Pennsylvania woman celebrated her 100th birthday on a golf course in September and a 99-year-old in Iowa last week talked about how the game helps keep her young. But for Bledsoe and Butler, the benefits aren’t just physical.
The parallels of life and golf
Bledsoe dug her tee into the grass on the third hole and took her stance on the third Friday of June. The flag waved from 99 yards away, a pond between the golfer and the hole.
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The veteran swung slowly and smoothly. The pure sound of the driver rippled across the course as the ball sailed easily over the water, bouncing within 15 yards of the pin. A clean chip-and-putt earned a routine par.
A former 12-handicap, Bledsoe knows her skills have declined. She makes up for her decreased strength and athleticism with poise and experience.
“They just kind of go play,” Dina Phillips, a regular at Onion Creek Country Club, said. “They really don’t have bad shots. When they do, they don’t care.”
They still recognize their mistakes, though. Butler drew some praise on the second hole after chipping her ball onto the green from the rough. She dismissed it as a “bad shot” since it rolled farther from the hole than she would’ve liked.
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But in a game where perfection eludes even the world’s best, Butler and Bledsoe have mastered the art of flushing away their mistakes.
“Well, you have good days, and you have bad days,” Butler said. “I try to think of the good days.”
Nolette Butler walks to the putting green while golfing at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
Bledsoe is a treasure trove of wisdom on the course. Phillips said she learned how to hit a low drive off her back foot from her friend. One of Bledsoe’s favorite sayings is “respect every putt.” Having decades of experience under her belt, she understands how unforgiving golf can be to one who rushes the process.
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It’s why Bledsoe can still outplay Campbell, who’s 40 years younger, on Tuesdays when they’re grouped.
Campbell said a wayward shot might throw her off her game and create frustration, leading her game into a downward spiral. Bledsoe doesn’t let that happen. She moves on, understanding that the only thing she can do is continue striving forward.
“Life is that way. You make mistakes, don’t you? And you try to correct them,” Bledsoe said.
Taking it one day at a time, since 1974
Butler started playing at Onion Creek in 1974. When her husband would go off to golf with his friends, she’d gather the wives and play a round with them.
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The former Bergstrom Air Force Base was located near the club until it closed in 1993. Butler recalls playing with military dignitaries and generals. She said she always wondered why they came back to Austin, but she never asked.
“The general scared me to death,” Butler said, drawing some chuckles from her friends. “He did! He was rough.”
Though Butler comes off as slightly reserved, she’s the jokester of the pair, dropping blunt one-liners with deft comedic timing. She lives in the Northwest Hills area, nearly 20 miles from Onion Creek, so she doesn’t frequent the course as much as Bledsoe, who is a two-minute drive from the facility.
Bledsoe is warm and welcoming; there hardly seems to be a club member who hasn’t heard of her. She moved to Onion Creek in 1980 and joined the Austin Area Women’s Golf Association shortly after. Up until five years ago, when she retired from her position on the board, Bledsoe would welcome every new member personally.
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Mary Lou Bledsoe steps up to tee off while golfing at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
When Donna Smith first joined the WGA, she said she was looking to join the Friday rounds hosted by the group. One of the women she played with told her to talk to Bledsoe, and she was in.
“Like that,” Smith said with a snap of her fingers. “And these were not easy games to get into.”
Kindness is second nature to Bledsoe. She said she’s always been personable, even if she can’t remember every one of the countless individuals she’s met. It’s part of why when she isn’t on the course, she heads to the gym to get a workout in with the Onion Creek personal trainer.
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Butler isn’t around as much. She loves golf, but she also sees the sport as a way to escape the routine of everyday life. Butler isn’t quite the social butterfly that Bledsoe is; she even says that Bledsoe is the better player.
There’s no bigger reason why Butler continues to golf. She said she just takes it one day at a time.
“Good Lord just isn’t ready for me yet. That’s all it is,” Butler said.
Defying their age and expectations
Butler and Bledsoe aren’t blind to their mortality. They’ve seen both their husbands and a few friends pass away. Butler just had her 99th birthday in early June, and fellow WGA member Debbie Staub said she still teases Bledsoe about her relative youth, since the latter will hit the century mark in January.
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In a country where the average life expectancy for women is 81.4 years, according to the National Center of Health Statistics, the 99-year-olds are outliers. And as time accumulates, wrinkles form and the senses dull, life transforms into something delicate. The societal expectation is for the elderly to be ever-dependent on those around them. Butler and Bledsoe defy that standard each time they take the course.
Up until a few months ago, Campbell said Bledsoe would insist on walking to her ball if it landed on the fairway instead of driving the cart. Phillips admires Butler, who continues to make the drive from her house twice a week, which can be up to 40 minutes with traffic.
Nolette Butler steps up to tee off at Onion Creek Club on Friday, June 19, 2026 in Austin.
Aaron E. Martinez/Austin American-Statesman
“They know that their days are numbered from here on out,” Staub said. “So every chance they get, they come up here to play golf.”
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Their limitations are apparent to those around them at times, even if they tend not to notice. Campbell said they’ll occasionally struggle to find their ball. Butler dropped out of her round on the second Friday of June due to the intense heat. Bledsoe and Butler’s slow pace can also frustrate younger, quicker golfers.
They’ll occasionally ask to move ahead of the seniors’ groups, a break from golf etiquette. Campbell doesn’t let that happen.
“You slow that person down and say, ‘Hey, I’m playing with a club legend today; an elder,’” she said.
But Bledsoe and Butler don’t see themselves as people worthy of special treatment. To them, the sport is part of their daily regimen; it keeps them tethered to life. They refuse to remain still and allow age to define them as their 100th birthday looms. It is why they’ve made it this far in the first place.
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Why wouldn’t they want to spend the rest of their lives playing the sport they love, surrounded by their friends? That’s essential to golf. Even life, according to Butler.
“It’s getting into it,” she said. “Enjoying it.”