Golf

Yesterday a neighbor asked if I played golf.  That's an innocent enough question and I gave him an honest answer.  "Yes, I used to play golf, a long time ago.  I quit after playing for a year or so - it took that long for me to figure out it's called "golf" because all the other four letter words were taken."

That brought to mind a bunch of things that were going on in my life during the early seventies - that's when I owned a complete set of left handed clubs, purchased at a place called White Front for about fifty bucks, and a really fancy putter.  Can't remember much about it these days, but back then EVERYONE wanted to try it out.  There were four of us that tried to teach each other the game, and three in the group actually managed to break 90 before I gave up.

I lived a little less than two years in a place between Tacoma and Seattle during the time it took me to quit playing golf.  That's the only reason, living in the Seattle area, I tried to learn that stinking game at all.  The Sun, you see, in that part of the universe, is a tease.  It peeks out from behind the clouds about every tenth day, if you're lucky, at odd and totally unexpected times.  When it decides to bathe you in it's radiance, you better have an good excuse so you can tell the boss you're gonna go out and play for awhile.  Golf works.

We'd all be sitting around depressed and contemplating suicide, blinds drawn to reveal nothing but a dark gray,  overcast and drizzling world outside, when all at once, there would be a break in the clouds.  The Sun would shine! 

Papers would find homes in cabinets, phones would be unplugged  (back then there were no answering machines nor call forwarding),  and off we'd go.  Last one to the clubhouse rented the cart.  And, we needed a cart, cause six or eight sixpacks get pretty heavy after four holes no matter how much gets consumed.  Ya just can't drink it fast enough to carry around in your bag.  My car always had clubs and the ice chest.  Tommy always had a bunch of Slim Jim's - and clubs.  Don and Pete carried clubs in their cars, and the knowledge gained from hanging out in front of the TV during televised weekend matches in their heads.  They were the instructors for the bunch of us.

We played on most of the public courses within a sixty mile radius, but my favorite was in Olympia, just across the Highway from the Olympia Brewery.  The iced sixpacks never lasted eighteen holes, and the Brewery offered free tours.  The tours ended up in the tasting rooms where you were welcome to "sample" all you wanted.  Connoisseurs, like the four of us, knew to ask for the "short tour".  That tour went directly from the starting gate to the samples, nothing in between. 

Now before everyone gets all knotted up about spending a day on the links with buddies and beer and then driving home, it didn't used to be the way it is now.  Here are some statistics for Pierce County, WA.  Population in 1970 = 154.000.  Population 2010 = 797,000.  I-5 is the same road now that it was then.  If we got into a wreck, it was going to be a single car accident and besides, we were young, dumb, and invincible.  We had powers.   

Folks in the NW still feel the need to recreate is just as important as the need to work.  The sun shines on a more regular basis here in central Oregon so, unlike the Seattle area, people actually work most days during the year.  No Sun days off during the week.  But, my brother in law assures me that everything grinds to a halt during hunting season around here.  This is not New York nor is it DC.  A sizable percentage of folks here still believe they work to live, not the other way around. 

Me?  I haven't done an honest days work in six months!