15 Jul 2009 :: Fore
I have a strong desire to be there for my parents, probably because I feel a lot of debt for what they have done for me throughout my life. I try to head north at least once a month to spend a weekend just with them, I try to help them on projects around the house and I try to do activities with them.
My dad's activity is golf. He loves going out and getting upset about how he is playing, regardless of how well he is actually playing. When I worked at the Oregonian, I went and played golf with him about once a week, which is a sight to behold because I'm terrible. I can't hit anything above a seven iron, I have a nasty slice, I can't putt and I never have broken triple digits on the scorecard.
When I left for Eugene I left my clubs in Portland, knowing I'd never go out and hit balls or play a round because I don't have the money or any sort of talent. For some reason, I've felt a strong desire to get out and play golf with my father and make sure to keep our relationship in tip top shape.
Today we went to the driving range, and I was expecting to have a handful of good shots and be content with that. Instead, I used my dad's clubs and ruined the driving range balls. I put the 7-iron a good 160 yards out and sent the 60 degree wedge out of sight in the sky before it landed some hundred yards away. I was incredibly stoked.
I grabbed the five iron, expecting all sorts of ruin, but hit it well. The next step up... well, my dad has a 3-iron/fairway wood hybrid, so I went for that. I consistently hit that between 200-240 and with the woods I started to hit the back fence, making the day at the driving range my best day of golf ever. I'm not sure if I'd willingly take up a golf club again.
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