It's A Small World After All

"People who need people are the luckiest people in the world."
-lyrics by Bob Merrill, composer Jule Styne

Since I'm planning on my next blog entry to be highly technical (with the golf, and the clubs, and the posture...oy!), I've decided to make this week's entry a purely anecdotal, feel good story that with have you leaping to your feet and crying with joy.

Now that the bar has been set outrageously high, prepare to be disappointed.

So about a couple of months ago, I went out to Van Cortlandt to tame that mighty beast as per usual.  (And as per usual, the mighty beast won.)  As you all know, I typically fly solo on these missions and this particular day was no different.  And as usual, I was paired with some random strangers.

But on this particular day, I was paired with someone who I actually got along with.  (Crazy right?)

I shall call him Mr. T (no relation).  It turned out that Mr. T and I had a lot in common.  We were both about the same age, we were both married, we were both new, first-time fathers of infant sons, and on and on.  At the end of the round, in a totally non-gay way, we exchanged contact information.

About three days later, I'm walking home from my local laundromat when 'lo and behold I see Mr. T (no relation).  It turns out that not only does he live in my neighborhood...wait for it...we live on the SAME BLOCK. (Cue Twilight Zone theme music.)

And to make matters super-awesome, he has a car.  And to make matters even super-awsomer, he works nights so he's free to play any time on any day. (Score!)

As a black man, I am extremely hesitant to use this term, and it's still too early to tell, but this might be an actual Bro-mance.

The Power of G-rated Golf

"Language, please."
-My Mother-in-Law who thinks we are living in the 1950's and that everyone is 12 years old

Don't get me wrong.  I love my Mother-in-Law.  She's a very kind, warm, and considerate person.  But there are certain sensibilities that we simply do not share.  The main one being about the appropriate use of foul language.  My Mother-in-Law feels that no one should ever use foul language in any context ever.  (Even the word crap sends a chill down her spine.)  I, on the other hand, feel that a well placed swear word can be a very effective communication tool.

So you can imagine how she would feel if she were to ever ride along with me on one of my golf outings.  Mainly, because she'd be bored to death.  But also, because of the flurry of f-bombs, s-bombs, mf-bombs, cs-bombs, etc. that would fly unabashedly from my foul mouth.

But then, a few weeks ago, I had a sudden realization.  (An epiphany if you will.)  Sure, cursing the heavens as you make an errant golf shot feels somewhat cathartic at the moment, but was it really serving me?  I really do believe that words have enormous power and that we have to choose them carefully.  And maybe letting out all of my fury and agitation through swear words was simply fueling even more fury and agitation.

So I've decided to dial it back on the harsh, filthy, vile, disgusting, naughty words.  And you know what? It's made a difference.  Again, not so much in the score, (It's about the bigger picture people) but in my state of mind as I'm playing.  As I continue to make mistakes, releasing my frustrations with a non-offensive and non-emotional, "Shoot," or "Nuts," actually increases my chances of recovering from those mistakes successfully.

Plus, I just don't feel so fucking miserable when I'm out there. (Hey, I'm not playing NOW.)

So now, not only do I have the swing of a old man, but I have the etiquette of a 100 year-old woman.