Golf Fore the Good

I was scheduled for office duty on Mother’s Day, being the only “non-mother” amongst my colleagues. Evidently, the Border Collie doesn’t qualify as a real child. Knowing the day would be quiet, with most people tied up with their own family celebrations, I planned an office picnic to mark the holiday with my parents and godmother. If I had to be working and couldn’t be golfing, at least I could squeeze in some family time.

On the day prior to my planned get-together, my aging golf friend phoned to chat. I asked if she had plans for Mother’s Day. Never having met her offspring, I am aware that one of her children lives two states away and the other a half a world away. She would spend the day alone, she said. With but a moment’s hesitation, an invitation for her to join us at our little picnic popped out. It was as natural as a golf swing – you may take that as you will.

My invited guests are all members of the same generation and therefore share many similar values and experiences, but they have traveled very different roads in life. At this juncture, their single common denominator was me. I worried, albeit briefly, that my golf life would collide with my other life in a surreal adaptation of a Seinfeld episode, “When My Worlds Collide.”

I have, of course, a lifelong relationship with my parents and my godmother. My bond with my golf friend, in comparison, is newly formed. We have played regularly for only the last few years. Over the past season, our friendship solidified off the course as well as on, and what started as a mentor-student relationship on the golf course has grown into something more.

It is true what they say about time spent with someone on the golf course. Four hours of golf can reveal a great deal about a person’s true character. Time spent together walking the fairways week after week binds you in a way a non-golfer might never understand.

You develop a cadence with your regular golfing partners. Like very old friends, you know one another’s quirks and eccentricities, one’s preferences and persona, and love each other in spite of it all.

My friend arrived at my office with the same old world fashion she brings to the golf course. She is never late, always prepared, and generous to a fault. She arrived at the office before the others. Never without a sandwich or other sustenance on the course, she had packed her own lunch and came armed with exotic goodies to share. In her hand she carried a long stemmed carnation, a simple yet thoughtful gift, with which she greeted my mother at the door. In the trunk of her car were her golf clubs.

She is an independent lady, nearly to a fault. After some convincing, we managed to have her join in our lobster picnic, tossing the packed sandwich to the dog.

The afternoon passed pleasantly. I need not have worried about introducing this little group, for they had many similarities, despite their diverseness, and what differences they had made for good conversation. I thought, what a foursome they make, these folks that figure so prominently in my life. Non-golfers really can co-exist with golfers.

The afternoon was edging on, but the sun still shone brilliantly and the day still felt young. Eventually there came a lag in the conversation, and as my parents and godmother prepared to head home, it was happy-to-have-met-you all around.

Even before the others were out the door, my friend’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “We’ll go practice now. We need practice.” My parents laughed, but only because she was exactly as I had told them she would be.

It was then that I realized my worlds had already collided, quite some time ago, when I first struck a golf ball. The same sense of purpose and self-discipline that defined my family upbringing is what defines my friend and the golf that we share. The words of my youth are the words of the game; honesty, integrity, dedication.

“Practice, practice, practice.”

“Anything worth doing, is worth doing well.”

In whatever language, however phrased; words to live by – words to golf by.