It isn't Just About Hitting that Little White Ball!

Recently the question was asked, "is playing golf just about hitting the little white ball?"  Confused, my first thought was, "that's a stupid question!" Wanting to give a more politically correct answer, I suppressed that first thought, grinning through clenched teeth, prohibiting the sarcastic answer from flipping off the end of my tongue.  I've noticed in recent years, I lack self-control when I surmise a stupid question had been asked.  Hopefully that lack doesn't extend to other body parts as well!

In light of numerous political debates, which leave you wondering what the hell the question was in the first place, I will answer the question: "is playing golf just about hitting the little white ball?" NO! Expanding on that emphatically answered NO, one must understand competition.

For the sake of naysayers, all this malarkey is for professional golfer wannabes, reasons for excluding the "big guys/girls" also known as PGA professionals, will soon reveal themselves.  Almost a quarter century back my wonderful husband decided to take up the game of Golf.  One year into his project, he poked, prodded and pleaded, "please play golf with me!"  Thinking I'd rather watch paint dry but loved the idea of being outside soaking up all the Vitamin D, I relented. Alas, we are hooked, but there is so much more to golf than just smacking the little white ball!

Brain vs. Brawn:  Golf is a game of mathematics.  Clubs have certain degrees of loft, they are made that way for a reason!  Standing, gripping and ripping (John Daly's famous swing), keeping one's head down, letting the club do it's job, understanding stance, are just a mere "tap in" compared to the complete game of Golf.  If you are agile, understand all the above, then perhaps your game is both brain and brawn working together much like a fine tuned machine.  Knowing what you are supposed to do and how far you can hit each club, tends to be more brain power and self-control.  Constantly hitting a long and wrong shot, using a club as a projectile when your "game" has left you, leads one to believe, all brawn no brain.  However, we all have bad days!

Wardrobe:  Well, you've got to look good!  Pockets and lots of them are a necessity!  Unlike my usual playing partner who sticks his pencil under the edge of his hat, loosing it each time he removes said hat to wipe his sweating brow, I prefer to carry one either in a back pocket or just leave it in the cart if we are riding the course.  Preferring to walk, most Florida courses require riding, speeding up the game!  Once out of the Starter's sight, my walk begins.  Pockets are a must!  These days, it's all about comfort and cotton.  Loose fitting breathable clothing always wins out over "looking good!"

Ball hawking:  for those unfamiliar with this golf term, please read on!  If hitting the ball "long and wrong" seems to be your normal approach, subconsciously you are a ball hawker.  This unique form of golf requires patience, a fearless approach, love of bugs, reptile (snakes) and high tolerances for pain, as thorns and vines wrap around you legs and any open skin available.  Another type of ball hawker requires navigating ponds and the purchase of special equipment; a fine example of re-cycling would be a clam rake.  Again a sharp eye and quick reflexes are just a few of the skills necessary to perfect this aspect of the golf game.  Here a twosome is preferred, one to do the actual raking of the water's edge, the second would be the reptile spotter (snakes and alligators!)

As they meet at the 19th hole for a recap of this versatile game, much like a trade deadline in the major leagues, bartering begins: "I'll give you a sleeve (3 balls) of Bridgestones for just one of your Titliest ProV1, PLEASE?" "If you tell me your favorite spot to ball hawk, I'll consider it!"  This is going to be a long afternoon, let the games begin!

Florida's Highways and Byways!

Although gas prices seem to be on the downhill track of a very steep roller coaster ride, they are still "up there!" probably shouldn't whine about it, in the blink of an eye, the ascent could once again begin. Taking advantage of the recent decline, a five hundred mile road trip to southern Florida was just completed. We have been fortunate that over the years, exploring our vast country has been a great opportunity, others may never see. Five hundred miles round trip, not particularly far, in fact, in this case, we were still in the same state, Florida!

Having lived in the northeastern climates much of my life, usually meant driving westward to seek out new and exciting places. As a former resident of New England, we had a tendency to think of the area as one big state, saying "I lived in the Connecticut section of New England." in fact some states in the great country are larger than the entire New England region. It's all relevant, two hours of driving on the interstate in Connecticut could mean stuck in the gridlock of the major metropolitan corridor, while here, two hours on the Florida interstate system, traveling to another of its larger southern metro areas, might mean you've covered over one hundred forty miles in the blink of an eye, especially if I am driving. Open road, all windows open, radio blaring, pedal to the metal, Mr. Bill "white knuckling" anything he can hold on to, we are heading south!

Not many roads crisscross this long state,the center still being a wide open space or a watershed area, finding a direct point to anywhere is an issue, unless you live on either coast. Most small towns are exactly that, microdots in the middle of nowhere. Getting to route sixty, we head south towards the county seat of Bartow, an historic and eye pleasing, small city. Before we actually reach the perimeter of Bartow, we head east. Wahneta is a minute village, ninety-nine percent Hispanic, located on the southeastern outskirts of Winter Haven, yet it seems as though it is a village that time has passed by. You'll find this is the norm in some of the remote regions of this elongated state. Finally route sixty, not much better than the previous thirty minute drive. Having driven across the great plains a number of years ago, seeing nothing but cattle ranches, turf farms and an occasional Dude Ranch, totally brought back memories of that area. Only thing missing were the giant corn fields. At one point, we gazed upon miles and miles of perfectly manicured citrus groves. One would imagine during orange blossom season, bees and humans are in a state of frenzy as the distinctly pungent smell of sweet citrus flowers hangs heavy, creating an aroma and a state of mind simple referred to as "orange blossom intoxication!"

Yeehaw Junction, yes, that is the correct name, will be our last populated town for a while. Having passed this way before, on the way to Vero Beach, I was pleasantly surprised this area still existed. The residents, albeit few and far between, are hearty souls. Miles and miles from anywhere, on the outer reaches of cell phone coverage, only once have I seen a resident, even then, this leathered and weathered skinned older gentleman, with the wide brimmed cowboy hat and puffed jaw full of chew, might possibly have been "just passing through!"

These farm lands of central Florida are vast flat lands, receiving irrigation from numerous lakes and waterways crisscrossing the tabletop flatness, stretching as far as the eye can see. Although the preferred mode of transportation for skimming over the swamp lands and clogged waterways of the area, is an air boat, I've yet to ride in one. Speed and danger appealing to me, I will add that to my bucket list!

I find the drive along Florida's Turnpike, interesting. One meandering streams is clogged with aquatic life. The beautiful water hyacinth, with its gorgeous and delicate purple flower, looks almost like a carpet of color, floating and basking in the tropical sunlight. For all its beauty, this delicate looking flower is sinister, blocking sunlight to the waters below, actually smothering and killing all life on the stream and eventually spreading across the waterways. Boats traveling these streams and ponds, must proceed with caution. To avoid further propagation of this species, boat propellers must be cleaned regularly.

When I think of this southern state, tropical always comes to mind. Somehow the further south you go, this word, TROPICAL, is so much defined. If possible, even the flatness of the landscape, is almost submerged into the blueness of the ocean gently tickling the shores. Coconut palms, swaying in the warm breeze, suggest a way of life that is refreshing yet slow and refined by day, but as the scorching sun sets, the nightlife begins.

We are staying on the edge of the inter-coastal waterway. From my balcony, I see the vastness of the Altantic Ocean. The only things separating us from this sheer blue calmness is the waterway. Looking to my right, the inter-coastal opens up to the sea, just a mere stones thrown away. What fascinates me are the luxury boats up and down this narrow body of water. Even the smallest are sleek, fast and just "toys" for the numerous rich and famous that populate this section of the southern coastline and  extremely fun to watch. Maybe it's just me, lounging on a boat, sipping a glass of fine wine or being served dinner on deck while floating along, now that IS the good life!

Time moves forward at warp speed, it is already the next day, time to head back up the coast. Without many choices of highways, Mr. Bill not feeling in tip top shape, we shall head back the way we came. Once we approached the familiar Yeehaw Junction, we opt to go further north, our westward drive will begin in Kissimmee. Not that the scenery is different,  it's just a different way. Approaching central Florida, our home base area, the first noticeable difference, traffic! Not that the southern peninsula area wasn't busy, but the snowbirds have headed home and the highways and local roads just seem more normal and less congested. Central Florida, a tourist mecca year round, people driving in areas they are not used to, this is more like.....yikes, watch out for rubbernecking! Although this is my stomping ground, driving it every day, with gridlock more the norm, my immediate memory tells me, the further south you go, the less hurried way of life,  Miami being the exception, but if it's pure tropical sunlight, anti establishment you yearn for,  there is always the Florida Keys, that will be MY next stop!

Moving on!

Funny how tuck away memories stir up emotions. Hadn't thought about the little restaurant that was once called Fred's News, in quite sometime. Most certainly a day does not pass, memories of the folks that frequented the little place, hop into the forefront! If we have said it once, we've said it a million times, "it's the people we miss!"  Often we wondered, does this small town, tucked away in amongst the rolling green hills of the Shetucket River Valley, feel the same?

For years we were "The Constant Place," in the lives of the many lovable and ever so quirky people that became so appropriately known as the Fred's News Family. Yet, deep seeded within the minds of many, were thoughts that this was a very liberal self indulgent family,who only thought of themselves. Although no one ever said those exact words, at times hurtful insinuations were heard. Sometimes sarcastic barbs often hold the true feelings of the person trading the jabs.

As business owners, we thought it most important to invest in our town, specifically the young people. With weekly day trips planned throughout the summer months for any of the young people, we often visited the beaches of Long Island Sound or the fresh water state parks of inland Connecticut. A chance for the town to get a much needed respite from the youthful antics, if only for a day, but more importantly, it introduced many of the underprivileged young people to life beyond the small village. Thinking of it as a chance for a seed to be planted in the minds of the young, they would want to explore, learn and perhaps years later, they too would invest in their town. As the summer months waned, the town saw a need to sell the local school bus fleet to an outside, for profit company, ending all hopes for the next year's summer field trips. Having served on both Board of Education and Finance, I understood the decision, but heartily disagreed.

As time passed, nothing much changed within this or the lives of the citizens in the town, progress seemed to pass by this town, the neighborhoods falling deeper into despair. Mr. Bill's efforts to beautiful the town with his sweet smelling, vibrant array of glorious flowers, grew larger and larger every years. Although it was a labor of love and  a chance to show all how beautifully quaint the little town was, ironically there was still deep seeded resentment by some.  We truly loved this place, staying involved, trying to update and show others, perseverance pays.

There comes a time when the body and mind grows weary.  Our children grown, none wanting the "family business," but that was fine.  We had taught our children to grow, to wander, to experience and most of all, be passionate in whatever they chose to do.  Having made our mark, a so called legacy, the mind, body and soul yearned for more.  It was our time to "practice what we had preached" for so long.  More importantly, it was me! Still young enough for a second career, Mr. Bill wanting to retire, there would be no argument from me!

Looking back, I truly think the people of the town thought of us more as a fixture, "The Constant Place" was most assuredly going to be there forever.  We see it as "out of sight, out of mind!"  For the most part, this is true, with an occasional message that warms the heart and soul, letting us know we were truly appreciated.

Perhaps, my thoughts are sometimes harsh, the heart is not.  Only now, we know, we truly did leave a legacy, still,  it was time.  Without overstaying our welcome, we moved on.  Visitors from the north do come, sometimes we wish for more.  The question is always asked, "when will you return?"  I always answer, "when will you come visit?'

Sentries of the Earth

A very slow start to the rainy season, but in all actuality ,the monsoon like afternoon rains are really a few weeks away. Today, just as the past week has been, thick clouds move in rapidly, you can almost see the thunderheads forming above. As the rains begin to fall, the hardened grounds beckon every drop. This tropical peninsula, a giant sandbar, is now more like hardened and weathered cement.

As we walk the pathways along the golf course, the stately magnolias, live oaks, and Spanish moss laden and hauntingly beautiful cypress trees seem to have risen skyward, as if looking and begging for moisture. Craggy, gnarly root systems, bulging upward through the hardened ground, fan out in every direction, seeking the elusive elixir of life, water. These roots fascinate me, they have seen how cruel Mother Nature can be, depriving them of their life blood, yet these hardened weather worn veins have experienced this before. Their talon like grip on the hardened ground suggests only survival, nothing more, certainly nothing less. A true partnership with the earth, they stand hearty and tall protecting the very ground on which they stand, from the blistering rays of the scorching fireball high in the mid-day sky.  Much like the skeletal system on the top of our hands, these weathered roots suggest the guardians of the forest, these majestic trees, have age. They have withstood all that the forces of nature have thrown at them. They are a giant high rise community, home to generation after generation of forest creatures.

Walking further along the picturesque paths, we notice, a few of the smaller trees have given in to the forces surrounding them. With a strong foundation a necessity, these much younger trees have lost their battle in the survival of the fittest. Eerily they lean, almost begging their elders for support, their root system, talons much too short, have surrendered. All too soon, critters of destruction will move in, sucking what meager life remains from the bowels of the foundation. This circle of life, within the tropical rain forest is such a fragile system. I believe it's beauty radiates forth for a reason. The fallen ones stand as a reminder to the hordes of humans that destroy, taking for granted, using and abusing these majestic sentries standing guard over the lands. Sadly, if we do not nourish and replenish, our world will be filled with regrets.

A Free-Thinker...I am, I am!

A recent conversation embroiled with opinions, ultimate reasons, accusatory shouting matches, non-believers and believers, career minded and some not so much, those of both sexes, including male chauvinists of all age ranges, was perhaps one of the most satisfying, invigorating and lively conversations I have participated in for quite some time. Throughout my career I have tried to avoid subjects directly related to religion and politics unless in a group of clergy or politicians.  The conversation mentioned contained neither group but all subjects were fair game. Truly a great eye-opening experience!  Sadly, not all involved in this lively debate, cherished the moment as much as me.

For the record, we must first say: One must approach these moments with an open-mind, heart and an ability to absorb what others are trying to say even if they continue to say,"no, that's not exactly what I mean!" If someone is asked to vote on a motion, in a democratic society, it is usually a given that one will vote yay, nay or just abstain, or so one would think.  Letting the chips fall where they may, you can't take back your vote.  Pondering this thought for just a moment, I surmise many in the room looked around to see how the majority voted and rather than stand by their convictions, said "oh well, what the hell, I will go with the majority, they must be right!"  Over the course of the next few weeks, the defeated dug their heals into the trenches, preparing for battle, taking bits and pieces out of context, seeking to rally the masses and reverse decisions.  All's fair in love and war, past history not being learned, their mistakes, unfortunately altered all future hopes of moving forward and the situation remains at status quo. 

Coining a new phrase, "return to the age of the dinosaurs," those who stand by their decisions, resigned.  Those, who at some point were most outspoken, did a complete three sixty, crying wah, wah, wah and now again rub shoulders with those they sought to vilify.  When I was asked my opinion, staunchly defending my beliefs, I replied, "how hypocritical, I am not a hypocrite nor do I intend to be branded as one.  If we are "returning to the Age of the Dinosaurs," please accept my resignation.

So be it, decisions made, life goes on.  Never one to dwell for long on the could of, should of or would of, lively conversations with constituents is always good for the soul.  Perhaps a cleansing, certainly not a time to "clean closets" but to voice opinions, present facts and at the same time welcome and accept opinions.  Dinosaurs, much like trying to "teach an old dog new tricks," welcome and accept nothing, forcing negativity into the forefront, hopes dashed, free-thinking society must "free-think" elsewhere.  Sadly, repeating, rehashing, rephrasing, reiterating, dinosaurs refuse to change.  Should they re-read history, many refusing to learn from their past, repeat mistakes, extinction is sure to follow. 

Death is inevitable, yet one should never adopt the policy of "sticking your head in the sand." or becoming submissive to those who opt for grandeur through title. As eons pass us by at warp speeds, adaptation is necessary for survival, but acceptance of the status quo, refusing to "think outside the box,"  is a very boring journey!

Reminders.........the Simplicity and Sweetness of Life

Today, a reminder of why we migrated south to this tropical paradise known as Florida.  Although the early morning, just cool enough, allowing the sweet citrus vapors to drift through open windows, the partly cloudy skies would soon give way to a sweet Mother Mary Novena Blue,  a brilliance that radiates images back to the earth so breathtakingly striking, one yearns for more!  With stiff breezes bordering all out windy, one forgets that this land is tropical rain forest HOT for much of the late spring, summer and early fall seasons of the year.

This southern sky, with it's infinite expanse, tells a story.  Today's clouds, so descriptive, would have allowed a soft blanket in the grass on which a body could observe these tremendous marshmallow like puffs floating quickly by, had it not been the thought of the multitudes of ants at ground level.  Nice thought, however, a walk at the edge of the preserve or seashore will have the suffice.

As the afternoon sun begins its descent toward the western horizon, the stiff warm breezes continuing, we decide, sitting outside amongst the gorgeous display of fragrant gardenias, majestic royal purple petunias, perfectly showcased by the emerald green and white flowing spider plants cascading downward, would be a great ending to a near picture perfect day in the outdoors.

Rehashing the events of our day, sipping icy cold sweet green teas, we are treated to not one or two but three of Mother Nature's elusive and endangered  raptors in flight.  The swallow-tailed kite only makes its appearance mid-March through mid-May, it's striking black and white plumage so vivid against the tropical setting sun.  As we watched these birds in flight, realizing how rarely we are treated to their company, we must learn more about our southern feathered friends.  Built for speed, these birds only number around three to four thousand, will soon be leaving for their winter feeding grounds, some as far south as Brazil.

A quick search of the Internet reveals, the Audobon Society tracks these graceful birds of prey as they cross-cross the southern skies, from their breeding homes in the southeast to their winters in South America.  Drops in their numbers caused by disappearing wetlands, pesticides and sport shooting, the Society's plea for help tracking these majestic and distinguished looking hunters would be our pleasure and a sincere a heartfelt thanks and commitment to our environment and those whose time, patience and diligence will insure these and all the creatures that share this planet, will continue to flourish.

Deja vu...Oh yes...Been There done That!

Deja vu, the illusion of having previously experiences something being encountered for the first time.  Its origin is French, its meaning, literally already seen.  Deja vu becoming the go to word around 1900-05.  Always interested in word origins, my mind tells me time to check it out. With a tad bit of research, my findings, interesting yet just a bit more of useless info added to my already overcrowded brain. Although I do not consider myself a hoarder, my brain signals, IT IS!

Sounding much like a hauntingly, even sensually romantic question, "Mon cherie, croyez-vous en déjà vue?"would be appropriate if whispered softly in a passionate moment.  Yet translate that beautiful phrase to English, "My love do you believe in the already seen?" Not quite the same effect, you might as well just quip, "Hey baby have ya been there, done that?"

That bit of useless trivia behind us, I decided to search further, our friend deja vu also has a scientific name; Promnesia.  This term, describes the phenomenon of deja vu, coming from Modern Latin, who I might add, derived it from the Greeks mean, pro-"before" plus mnesia-"memory." Keeping that thought, let's look at the origins of amnesia.  This little word became vogue around 1780-90 (can't remember exactly!), the Neo-Latin tongues stole it from the Greeks (again) and is a variant of the word amnestia meaning "oblivion".  My mind in a tizzy, delving deeper into this mystery of words, amnestia, for the record was not in the dictionary or at least not mine. Ironically, perhaps they forgot it!  Deciding to use word search, amnestia, is mentioned.  2437 Amnestia is a main belt asteroid and was discovered on September 14, 1942 by, can't seem to remember, in the city of Turku on the southwest coast of Finland at the mouth of the Aura River, in the region of Finland Proper. Turku is believed to have been first settled around the 13th century, (they can't remember either) and the predominant language spoken is Swedish! They seem to have forgotten they are in FINLAND!

With all this info meaning absolutely nothing, deja vu still intrigues me.  Having had moments of " Mon cherie, croyez-vous en déjà vue?" okay "been there done that!"  words intrigue me.  How we say them, what we insinuate, what is perceived, everyone processes words and phrases, differently. We perceive certain languages to ooze of sensuality, French, Italian and Spanish, the first to come to mind.  When spoken fluently, these words of passion are beautiful, yet it is the thinkers, the free-spirited, the brain hoarders that questions everything and accept nothing as status quo that truly intrigues us all.