On The Fly

I n this episode, How I Found Equipoise on the Links I had a grand goal, a numerical quest, To shoot under seventy, passing the test! With my seventieth birthday just thirty days out, We headed to Carlsbad to conquer my doubt. Now, golf is a game full of grumbles and groans, Of muttering words in quite pitiful tones. You squeeze on the club till your knuckles turn white, You count up your score, and you freeze up in fright! But today on the course, I discovered new joys, I found that magnificent word: Equipoise ! It means that you’re balanced, composed, and un-rushed, The voices of panic completely are hushed. I threw out the math and the scorecard addition, And swapped out the stress for a simple tradition. I thought of Ben Hogan, who cleverly taught "Don't think of the score. The next shot matters far more." I didn't look back, I didn't look past, I simply stepped up, and I had a great blast. Seven nice pars and a birdie so sweet, Nine bogeys, one double (which ...

“When I get older Losing my hair Many years from now Will you still be sending me a Valentine? Birthday greetings bottle of wine?” . . . The Beatles. Podcast - When I'm 64 . . .  With this pandemic still raging losing my hair is not the issue. It's not being able to get out. This summer vacation (2020) has come to a screeching halt. We canceled our trip to France and were still navigating restrictions. Lately, I’ve been reflecting back on childhood memories. What prompted that you ask? Well, one month from today is When I’m 64 comes true for me. A rather fortuitous time to reflect it seems. I slid down the chute on the 229th day of the year, August 16, 1956. It was a Thursday in Angouleme, France. My father was an MP in the U.S. Army, from rural Illinois. And within three years he moved our small family back to the midwestern town of Cuba. One of my most vivid and fond early memories was the challenge and freedom of that first bicycle. Mine was a red, single speed 26 inc...