Time continues its linear path as men and women feel Father Time in their daily aches and pains of old-age, but another tenderness felt on the middle-aged ego is new friends; how does one find them?
Being single, seeing my best physical days behind me, and moving to a new state in my late 30’s had me struggling to find like-minded individuals. I had rented the master bedroom in a beautiful 3,500sqft brick home when I moved to NC before I found a more permanent residence from Jane; later I realized it was no accident because of our shared interests. Funny, one of my best friends is Marge Mitchell, a 70yr I met telemarketing Time-Shares in Florida 18yrs ago.
“What are doing tonight Stu-e,” she asked as I looked on processing why she had asked me over. Moments seemed like hours and she felt the tension, “Honey, this kitchen is closed for business!” I laughed uncontrollably and promised to come over for dinner. We’ve been close ever since.
The other room was rented to Jeremy, a little younger, and NC raised man. We became friends rather quickly and he got me back into golf. Our home backed up to the church which had a lovely track, basketball hoop, and plenty of grass before the oak we spray painted a bullseye around as we chipped every night after work. The constant practice had me thirsty for a full round and I found something I was interested in mastering.
I started golfing 3x’s a week and eventually got a membership when I realized I was spending $100/wk. This led me to see the same people, at the same times, and at the same place; similar to the gym, new job, or new school. Of course we were going to eventually talk to each other, especially given my mouth and similar interest.
I was inspired to write this because of what had come to pass a month ago at Pudding Ridge golf course. Behind the 3 of us was a single and he was smoking the ball so hard air had to exhale while it cut like a knife through butter, room temperature. We waved him through and as he passed I yelled out because I thought I knew him, this was not the case but we made a new friend in Joe Canada.
When I invited him to play my home course, Hemlock, we met Tony. He was alone, as I’ve been many times at Hemlock but it has aided me making many friends from Jimmy to Dakota. Joe insisted he join us for the remainder of the round. The three of us, plus any other with free time have been duffing 3x’s a week minimum. Friends are right under nose I found out when I saw Tony’s work truck. I told Jimmy, “We see that truck every time after we make the turn. It’s Tony’s!”
Chatter on the course is eye opening, “I hate when people are on my ass” Tony said with a scowl and seriousness as he approached shot 2. “I felt that way on #1 with the audience,” I retorted. I’ve never been one for anxiety but golf has me tripping from time to time I must confess. Significant I suppose, because I don’t get that feeling anywhere else. But Joe Canada settles our nerves with a perfect tee shot, Tony pops a beer tap, I play a track, and we enjoy a toke, smoke, and the encouragement of one another in nature, on a beautiful NC Spring day, without a cloud. “That’ll play Son, Wow, what a follow through, that chip-in was the shot of day, way to putt, GOLLY,” and so on…
The smack talking of a younger man wanting to prove his worth and ranking has given way to this,
“Let’s make it the best day ever bud,” Joe says with a sly, silly, hey guy, shit eating grin.
Oh Canada!
I love it.
