Natalie Whatley

Back in October, I went on an interesting ride-along with the man in my life. He’s been looking way ahead to retirement, and has requested that I pick up a new skill before he gets there. With the intent of fostering long-term marital harmony, I agreed to a day of observation. I even got to drive the cart! Since hand-eye coordination has never been my strong suit, twenty years may not be long enough to master what has been asked of me, but I’ll give it my best shot.

Golf slowly encroached upon my life through my husband and oldest son, who plays for his high school. Dinner conversations have become difficult for me, as my comprehension of the subject is sub-par. I have no choice but to learn, or be left behind.

Our field trip to Eagle Pointe landed on a crisp, serene day. The sun was shining brightly, a gentle breeze blew through the leaves of the many trees, birds were chirping, squirrels were amorously chasing one another, and men (I was the only female around) were basking in the radiance given off that only a Monday spent absent from work can produce.

The miniature hills were slightly covered with dew, the sprinklers were sprinkling, ducks swam happily in the ponds (sorry, water hazards), and water softly flowed over the rock waterfalls. Sights and sounds that should have been soothing and relaxing actually proved to be problematic. The “facilities” on the back nine were out of order, and I was told the tee box wasn’t at all intended for what I had in mind.

In an effort to ignore the water, I thought I’d concentrate on the much-needed vocabulary lesson. I had no idea my man was a hooker, and the worm burners were amusing given dear hubby seemed very upset over having hurt the poor creatures. I overheard him muttering something I’m certain were condolences. The ball washer was particularly funny, but I thought better than to ask for a demonstration. Oh, and don’t be a divot out on the course. Have you seen that tool? Ouch! Through my own efforts in self education, I have found that the tees work nicely for propping my eyes open while I watch the Golf Channel. 

And, speaking of tools and gadgetry, I don’t ever want to hear another male peep about what us ladies carry around in our purses. Check out those enormous golf bags; I can confirm the contents of a Golf Galaxy store are inside. It’s no wonder they need a cart to drive that thing around.

I’m not sure that at any point in my life I’ll be able to deal with the sort of frustration I witnessed on the golf course. I presently go to great lengths to avoid that very thing. I’m just a little birdie hoping to one day fly with the eagles. Heck, I’ve got twenty years, and I’m a clean slate with no undesirable golf habits. Yep, I’ll be able to beat the pants off him. Oh wait…I think that may be what he wants.  

© 2008 Natalie Whatley

Tags: golf, marital harmony, retirement