I was sitting on the bench beside the pond enjoying the sunshine and watching the loon as he would dive and resurface far from his entry point. Trying to guess where he would emerge in hopes of getting a snapshot was my immediate entertainment.
Then I heard the "click" and it was a familiar sound. I looked up and across the pond. On the other side of the lane and perhaps eighty yards away I spotted the old coot practicing his golf swing. It is okay for me to designate the gentleman as such, for I am an old coot myself. As I watched him a while, I concluded that he may not have the most powerful swing on the course, but I daresay he would make someone a formidable opponent, or an excellent partner.
I was never a golfer, and in fact I had never played the game until after I retired. Ellie, my wife at the time, was an avid golfer and an accomplished instructor. She offered to teach me the game. So. Then she bought me a new set of clubs. And. We became golf buddies.
Though I missed her terribly, of course, I continued to tromp the fairways for about seven years after her death. Her brother, Richard, became my pal on the course. He, of course, is much better at the game than I ever was, and he continues to play on a regular basis. I quit the game because of the pain in the left shoulder and my reluctance to see a surgeon about that.
"Doc, my shoulder hurts when I swing a golf club."
"Then don't swing a golf club."
Seems right to me.