I sit here this morning, trying to get my appendages working again after another commute through the bitterly-cold January morn. I have always been a fan of the deep freeze of winter, but as the years pass it gets progressively tougher to appreciate the bonechilling gusts as they pierce my heavy jacket.
It’s these mornings that seem the farthest from the luscious green fairways of spring. And yet, if you take a moment to jog your memory, you’re right there.
Aside from family, golf is one of the few things that brings temperature back to a mind frozen over by the shortest, coldest days of the year.
Just the other day, I was explaining to a coworker about the makeshift pitch-and-putt course my father installed in the backyard when I was only about 8 or 9 years old. One of my favorite memories of that course was wading through the snow in boots, a knit cap, a heavy coat…and shorts. I’d have out the orange Maxfli’s. Some would be easily apparent from the glow, others would wait to be found until after the thaw.
I was lucky – my parents owned a decent chunk of land in rural America. Many kids don’t have the chance to master a flop shot from their Dad’s hayfield, or hit a 100 yd iron shot across a spring run to a pin only a couple paces from the edge. I could do that daily, if I so chose. And I did.
Of course if you read my last post, you would see that I don’t get to play much anymore. But getting back to being a regular golfer will happen for me. That’s the beauty of golf, and why you should try like heck to introduce your kids to the sport. It’s a game they can experience throughout their life, on a limitless number of great courses around this world.
And that’s what I’m left with this morning – thinking about the future, as well as the past. Looking back on the great times I’ve had on the golf course, and expecting a future time when I can afford to make a trip with my brother or a group of friends to a warmer destination.
That’s what life’s about, and that’s what golf is about. Memories, good times.