I enjoy writing. I get bored, especially in the present day and age. Thus, I write. Admittedly, Covid depression has told me there ain't much fun to write about. Today, I write. I no forcy you to be here, I no hold you down... .consider it like the dinner you've ordered at Cheddars (or similar):
1: Ya ain't even gotta dine inside (ie, no haveta readie blog)
2. Take a few nibbles, if edible, you can stomach, by all means I'd love to have you read, if not, simply jumble the veggies around to make it look like ya tried some, then walk away, I won't get upset, honest!
I work part-time at a par 3 golf course in a small suburban town. It ain't 'my town', but I love it nonetheless. The City, continuous concrete, stoplights ain't come to bury it yet - thus, there's Green Acres around it. (Green Acres is the place to be. Farm livin is the life for me. Land spreadin out so far and wide, keep Kansas City just give me that countryside.)
Normal. Normal ain't happened since March. Except in this little spice of life.
Shoulder to shoulder my buddies and I sat back in March and watched a HS basketball game. At half, rumors floated the big college basketball tourney in KC would limit spectators to 250 per game. Then, soon, games cancelled. Schools cancelled. Barber shops, salons, bars, restaurants, closed. The County rubber stamp ('closed until further notice') hammered and hammered.
Except this little spice of life.
With the outdoor spacing of golf, the attainment of exercise - it was deemed ok to keep golf courses open - with some no touch restrictions. (1 person per cart, carts sanitized after each use, no touchy the flag stick, cups inverted so the ball wouldn't go way down where you'd have to touch where someone else had touched. Sand traps "unplayable' - couldn't have multiple people touching the rakes, etc, etc.)
My first day after the County rubber stamp.. RING.... RING... RING... I p/u the phone, "The Club at (where I work) this is Vic, can I help you?" JUST TELL ME SIR, HOW DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL? I SEE PEOPLE ALL OVER THE PLACE, AGAIN, JUST TELL ME HOW YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL?"
In my best Midwestern hick I said "Sir, I'm simply an hourly employee here. It's my understanding the County made the decision to allow us to continue to be open." He went on...and on... and on..I let him beat me up pretty good.. . I felt as if I'd just been screamed at by my 8th grade English teacher for not turning in my final assignment.
Whew, back to positive. I truly love this place (the golf course).. It's a microcosm of life. We gots folks of all extremes of economics... we have big people, small people, average size people, young people, middle aged folks, old folks, and really old folks. Oh yeah, and kids. The kids are fun.
It is rewarding to watch the many parents that bring their 7, 9, 12, 14 year old kiddo in, and teach them the game. I see patience. I see love. I see memories being made where one day one will remember "Damn I wish mom/dad were still here... I remember how much fun we had playing golf together."
I love, love, love, couples that play golf together. As someone who has basically been single for 19 years or so, (oh, a couple of 'couple' interuptions, nuttin' permanent) it's simply cool to be able to snooze at night, reach over and remind yourself someone else occupies the bed with you. Me thinks some don't appreciate that. Reckon when ya ain't got, you appreciate got more.
Anyways... After getting to know couples awhile, I like to ask "how'd you guys meet?" The answers have varied from "oh, we have been boyfriend/girlfriend since the 8th grade.".... "ahm, we met at a bar.".. "42 years ago today, we went roller skating on our first date.".... Well, we had a farm and we lived closeby. I was 19, she was 15 and I asked her daddy if I could go swimming in their pond. The rest is history!"
The folks that met in the pond. They are approximately 70-something. You can tell he's had some lung issues as it's very hard to ascertain what his soft voice is saying. Sadly, we haven't seen them this summer. We are all praying they've stayed away due to Covid - and hope to ne'er hear otherwise.
Happy. Happy abounds. A bad day of golf is better than a good day at work.
When the rubber stamp came down, folks couldn't go to church, to a ballgame, to a funeral, LIMITED. The pep in the step of folks when they get outta their cars and walk into our clubhouse is rewarding, both for us, and for them. "Closest thing to normal we've got. I/we are soooooo thankful you guys have been allowed to stay open." Say mister, can I give you the number of the guy who asked me WHY DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ESSENTIAL and you could give him a call? Just kidding, but it did cross my brain.
Sanity. In a world of boredom, fear, political battles, inability to even visit a loved one in a nursing home - the golf course has stayed pretty much normal. Allowed, pretty much normal.
NICE. We've got nice. We'll get a group of four and the first guy (or gal) that gets there will say "I wanna go ahead and pay for my buddies too."... or, they will talk/smile/visit, then throw a 5 dollar bill in the tip jar. People smile. People say thanks. Repeat customers will ask "how ya doin' (and call the employee by name)?"
I was very impressed the day the 89 year old guy was the first to arrive, jumped out spryly, completed 18 holes in no time.. smiled, thanked, went about his way, only to repeat again the next week. Maybe outdone, Father's Day. 92 year old dude, two sons. "I'd like to pay for my dad's golf. We do this every Father's Day and we have for a long time. We've never beaten him."... As they pulled their cart from hole #18 to their car, I walked and inquired.. "well? Did you keep your streak alive and whip the whippersnappers?".. Laughter, head nod affirmatively, "yes." Farm out.
We keep the TV's on the Golf Channel, ESPN, anything sports. If the TV ain't on, we've got blaring in the clubhouse, on the back deck, and on the pool deck, a little Motown, or maybe Rolling Stones Channel, of, New Country hits compliments of Pandora. No CNN, FOX, MSNBC, yada, and.. that's the way, aha aha, we like it aha aha.
People leave anything, everything on the course, or in their golf cart. There was the guy who threw his brother's clubs in the trunk of the locked car. closed it.. and "uh oh, my car keys were in there." People leave phones, them little portable speakers, clubs, head covers, golf balls, tees, change, 'chaw', full beers, much, in their cart.
People leave wallets with real $20's and $50's in 'em, and if we don't catch it, the folks who ride in that cart next find it, and, turn it in, and MONEY INTACT. Scroll to I love this town, Green Acres is the place to be.
The pool. Our capacity is 74. When the first rubber stamp came down, we were only allowed 19 swimmers. Folks hadta make reservations, in fairness to all, we hadta limit members to a two hour max stay, it was a pain. Rubber stamp #2, we were allowed 34 folks, life was/is good, the termites flail away, the oldsters sit 6 feet apart, drink in hand (or not), relax, visit, some-kinda-normal, thankyouverymuch.
I love when the little 3 year old blonde child walks in with a Donald Duck innertube wrapped around her body, and the astonished look on her face when one of us asks excitedly "oh, are you gonna play golf?"
Band camp, long ago, I dealt craps in a casino. Our motto was "we go to fun to have work." It really was a party. Same with this. We know we're lucky, many aren't, and this is certainly not meant to rub it in. It's meant to moreso say thanks to how this has worked out so far, and allowing us, and our customers, some sense of normalcy.
Oh yeah, people even play golf here!
I was gonna entitle this blog 'Fore Play' but then I feared you might think I was a perve. So, Fore Sanity will do I guess.
Come see us. Kearney, MO. It's a little slice of spice. Green Acres is the place to be.
Love, Victurd
