Heritage Backstories

I Hate golf.
Always have. We were hunters and readers and fisherfolk, not golfers in our spare time. Dad built a Volleyball court in the backyard and we volleyed and played badminton. We would occasionally play a pickup game of football (big yard). But that was it.

So yesterday we went out to the Heritage. Woo hoo. I left the group and wandered around and watched people. Watching people is what I love to do, anywhere, anytime. Other people go to malls to shop - I sit and watch the parade of humanity go by. I like to pass unnoticed yet noticing, a wraith of observation.

There was the couple who were walking along a deserted path. They go to the Heritage every year; this past year she had had a stroke and was in a wheelchair. Hubby gently asked her if she wanted to walk up to the course. He eased her out of the wheelchair and walked her off of the path over to the grass. It was a gentle and beautiful thing to watch.

Then there was the German couple I followed past several holes. They seemed to have something in mind - or, he did. They were giggling like teenagers, putting their heads together conspiratorially and mischievously. She seemed reluctant to do whatever he was proposing. They stood at a deserted spot for several minutes... then he darted over to the hole and grabbed the flag and faced her. She started snapping pictures, laughing and telling him to move into different poses. They were in their own private world of fun.

That poor golfer. The young fellow, lagging way behind on the course, obviously struggling with a bad score and his own squashed-down frustration. He had hit his ball into the rough - and not just any rough, but clean out across the path and almost into someone's yard. The guys with the lasers were out measuring distance and line to the hole, everyone stood about in the weeds as the poor boy made his decision, chose his club, and took his shot. Many folk would have given up; he didn't have his entourage and pack of followers like the other ones. But he kept doggedly playing, trying, struggling, even though he knew how far behind he was. He even tried a watery, game little smile after he fired that ball onto the fairway. Totally determined, totally dedicated, totally frustrated, and trying to relax and do what he loved in spite of it all.

Yup, I see lots of stupid people, every day. But these were not stupid people - they were the quiet folk who people the earth and whom few notice. Their lives and goals and dreams are all important to them, but mean nothing to the hustle and bustle of the crowds around them. So like us all.