Someone recently asked if I had any hobbies? I stumbled over answering the question. Sheepishly, somewhere in the back of my mind, hobbies are the trademark of a well-adjusted balanced individual who knows how to prioritize his time. By the way, I am not that guy. Did I say that outloud?
Don’t get me wrong. I used to know that guy. I looked at him every morning in the mirror when I brushed my teeth, but somewhere along the way, he moved out of my body. Perhaps you can relate?
When we moved from our previous home over ten months ago, I gave away my six tennis rackets. Why I had six tennis rackets is beyond me my comprehension. For that matter, why I had one puzzles me. I haven’t played tennis since we moved from Midland in 2001. Could that really have been 21 years ago?
Think about it – 21 years is a long time. That is enough time to be born and legally be old enough to get a pilot’s license, rent a car, book a hotel room, or get a license to carry a concealed weapon.
Someone recently learning that we were building a home on a golf course wanted to know how often I play golf? I bit my tongue to keep from replying: “Isn’t chasing a little white ball with a stick the definition of insanity?”
Of course, I really don’t believe that. I know golfers who actually love the game. In the process they get exercise, conduct business, strengthen friendships and have a justifiable excuse to overlook the “To Do List” provided them by their General.
It stands to reason that golf is one of those games where a foursome is more enjoyable than playing alone. I say that like I know what I’m talking about. I guess it is possible to play a round of golf in solitude, but I suspect the conversation would be pretty boring.
I have a friend who reportedly is much better at deer hunting than he is at golf. He obviously has more than one hobby. I’m not going to suggest that he has unresolved anger control issues, but when things go awry on the golf course, the message he articulates could get him banished from a Sunday School classroom if he talked like that at church.
He reportedly has even tossed one of his golf clubs in the lake when the golfball significantly missed the mark. How’s that for letting the chips fall where they may? I’m sure his wife still remembers the day when he came home without a full-set of clubs.
Okay, so I’m not a golfer, and I no longer play tennis. I don’t bowl. I don’t hunt. I don’t fish. I don’t even collect stamps. For that matter, what’s new? I’ve not told you anything about me that you don’t already know.
True confession: I obviously am not a well adjusted, perfectly balanced individual! What??? Wait a minute – Wait a minute! I take that back. Could writing be a hobby? Of course it could! You don’t have to golf well to identify yourself as a golfer. The same could be said of writing. I write often. It is my hobby and it is a lot less expensive than golf.
All My Best!
Don
Carpe Diem 