The Ghost And Me

Early spring has a definite feel. Usually it's "tween weather", too cold to be warm, to warm to be cold, some sun, some clouds.....it's unmistakable. You could even go all VanWinkle.....wake up and know what time of the year it is. I don't have a favorite time of the year. If it's outside friendly, I'm good with it.

When this time comes around my attention turns to being outside, opening day, golf season, and all things anew. The "anew" part for me lies outside. That's where all things anew take shape in my eyes. Plants, the sun, the whole thing. It's also where The Ghost resides. I feel it's presence in all that I do outside. Working in the yard, taking a walk, or playing golf. The Ghost is there, but he does not taunt and does not haunt. The Ghost is a kind and gentle spirit.

Playing golf is something I look forward to when the weather breaks. I play every Sunday morning at least, with three life long friends, and what a blessing. Not many can say they get to spend time with guys of this caliber, and have as much fun doing it every week. You probably have a favorite activity, that is your reward for a weeks worth of getting up early and working hard. This is mine. A few times a year I even go down to Florida where more life long friends live, and we do the same. Spend a week teeing it up... and living large.

It's not about the game. It's about the time. Golf is great, but the time is better. Knowing that for a while you are in the place you're supposed to be. Sound dramatic? Maybe. But sadly, we don't have enough of these moments in our busy lives, especially with the economy the past year or two. We're all working longer and harder. And some things have had to give. But The Ghost reminds me that these times are rare, worth it, and to embrace them.

The Ghost blessed me with the gift of having fun long ago. He tells me, "life is fun" and ..."fun is fundamental" He's right. And there's no place that I frequent that The Ghost carries a larger presence with me than the golf course. As Don, Joe and Tex and I, ready ourselves to begin play in the early Sunday dew swept dawn, they have no idea The Ghost is speaking to me. I reach in the bag for the driver and make a stride to the first tee. There is good in my heart knowing I am embarking on a morning that is going to be more than just golf.

I steady the club, and ready myself for the first shot of the day. The Ghost will not guide my hands, that's up to me. But he guides my heart and reminds me to remember that there are more reasons to be where I am at this moment than drives, pars and birdies. But to live these hours with the passion of a pro, and with the humble demeanor of someone that respects the game, and the joys a simple game can bring.

The Ghost then turns the day over to me, and returns to the first tee at dawn the next Sunday, regardless of what golf course we play. He knows where I am and where to find me, and has for 32 years. for The Ghost is my dad, and this April it's been that many years since he was taken entirely too soon. He played golf every Sunday morning with friends, and now I do. It makes me happy to know there are certain Sundays I am walking on some of the very same grass and greens he did all those years ago. I know he'll always meet me there.


It's unusual for me to play a round of golf without thinking or referencing The Ghost. He taught me about the game, and the proper perspective to keep on the course that is easily transferred to life. And none of it has to do with gloves and clubs.

For The Ghost on the tee doesn't guide my hands... .he guides my heart.