as I stumble
up another fairway.
My ball should be here.
It is not.
Golf is what I do when
I do not teach.
It's maddening.
It's like trying to put
toothpaste back into the tube.
It's like guiding a sophomore
and his research paper
through the eye of a needle.
I am miles away from home,
but a 19 year old lawnboy
who I momentarily think might be a student,
frightens me as he comes up to me on his craft.
"You guys sure play fast,
for old guys."
He points at my ball,
right in front of me.
I wallop it into a shiny pond
not 30 yards in front of me.
The sun bakes down on me.
God punishes me,
not just at school,
not just in the fall,
but on every summer day as well.
A good walk spoiled, as old Mark Twain once said. But, yeah, I've been there.
ReplyDeleteNice to see Prof. Tingle again.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, like Archie, I have been there and done that, and I have the scorecard as evidence.
I see students occasionally at the golf course, and always feel foolish about my bare legs! That's probably something a therapist could help me with.
I go to play golf. I end up hunting and fishing.
ReplyDeleteNo golf experience here, but I'm glad to see Prof. Tingle again, and intrigued to learn what he does during the summer. They say that human beings tend to have a set point (or fairly narrow range) for happiness, much as they do for weight. Perhaps this is evidence in support of that theory.
ReplyDeleteBurn the scorecard, and throw a club at the lawnboy.
ReplyDelete