Why I Play

Tournament golf season starts this weekend.

Since I was a kid, I have loved games; physical games, games of skill and games of intellect, almost any kind of game. I love to play games, I love to compete, I love to be out-of-doors, and mostly I like to have fun. My nature is steeped in physicality. As I grew into a young man, the adrenaline of competition hooked me, and I have been an addict ever since.

I am a guy. Guy’s compete. Men, to varying degrees, have an innate need to achieve and accomplish. Genetically, on some level, to some degree we are hardwired that way. We have to be. Competition is an inherent characteristic of life. It is a requirement. Women love and nurture, innately. On some level, to some degree they are hardwired that way. They have to be. These too are requirements. Love and nourishment are as necessary for the soul, as is battle; battle for life, battle for understanding, our battle to endure hardship, pain and loss. A battle to endure that we may know, understand and embrace the miracles of love and living - a battle to endure that we may know the joy and fun of being, and embrace those moments with a child’s clarity, and hold them close to protect us in the battle to endure all else.

Playing for me is a passion. A passion to search for balance in all those things in life that like golf are uncontrollable, fleeting and unpredictable, but precious in the knowing of them. A passion to know one’s self, a passion to grow, a passion to learn patience and understanding, and a passion to live and to compete. And in the lessons of competition, to endure all else that we may embrace love, life and friendship in the milieu of fun.

This is why I play golf.

Yard Day at Lorie’s

“And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit…For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”

-Gibran, On Friendship

I have the good fortune of living above the most colorfully patronized coffee shop in Colville, and one of the regulars needed some help getting her yard neatened up. So on Saturday, a motley crew of lawn care novices descended upon Lorie’s house to give her a hand in tidying up the grounds. They were lured there under the promise of short hours and the rumor of free food.

Curious how what seems to be a chore, turns out to be such great fun when friends are involved. The road to Lorie’s is a little over six miles, so I decided to dust off my bike trailer and ride distance, with work clothes and assorted items in tow. The day was cloudy and cool – perfect for the planned activities. Folks showed up in a staggered procession, and Lorie handed out the wish list of duties; tree-trimming, lawn-mowing, raking, weeding and general sprucing up. After only a few hours, Lorie’s twin brother, Landon, fired up the grill and prepared a sizable and tasty feast.

The real entertainment for me came between chores and chow. Lorie has three boys that seem to be baseball fanatics, and once the front yard was dragged of tree limbs and clippings, it was transformed into a magical diamond. I was treated to playing my first whiffle-ball game in over 20 years. Tannar, Kalyssa, Tanner and I took on Chase, Ty and Kyle, and after striking-out twice, I finally remembered how to hit the ball. If I am ever a parent, I’ll remember to raise kids, not grass.

After a bit of good food, I pedaled home and cleaned up for another friend’s birthday celebration. I had made deviled eggs in the morning, so with my contribution to the pot-luck in hand, I joined the festivities. A couple hours later, the day’s activities caught up with me, and I made my way home.

A brief phone call from a friend brought the evening to a close.

Thanks everybody, that was a great day.

Mother's Day 2008

” When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep.”
- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (1923)


In February of this year, I took a trip back east to visit family and friends. Unbeknownst to me, the visit would be a tipping point in my life. I, as a human, am deeply flawed. Yet, like most on this earth, I have some redeemable, maybe desirable qualities. For most of us, if we look with discerning eyes, this is a true statement. I am a very fortunate human being, for I have been graced with happiness, health and many friends. The tipping point in my trip was a conscious realization to focus on and celebrate the positive and unique virtues of my family and friends. We can still get angry with one another, but as far as we know, we only go this way one time.

My Mom is imperfect. Aren’t we all? I have never known hunger. I have never known a lack of shelter. I have never known a lack of challenge, and corresponding opportunity. The older I get, the more I enjoy life, and the more comfortable I get with the person that lives inside my skin. All seven of my siblings are alive and physically healthy. We were lucky to be born in a country that endeavors to embrace important, respectful and humanistic values. We were lucky to be born in a time of great resource.

We were lucky to have a Mother that was imperfect, unbending and relentless. Oh, she could piss you off! She is imperfect, as we all are. She was unbending in applying what she thought she had to. And she was relentless in making sure that her eight children had food, shelter, challenge and opportunity. Moms are like no other person in our lives Thank you, Mom.

I have known love. It continues to be the hardest teacher, and the greatest gift-giver.

I have never been poetic, but the following poem came through me as I wanted to celebrate the love and uniqueness of the people in my life. After many years, a one-of-a-kind person inspired me, like no other. Thank you.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom, I love you.

You Are

You are a Gift of the Earth, wise and lit of grace.
A Siren, tempting the heavens,
A Muse of the Heart, inspiring embrace.

You are why Sculptors chisel, Artists paint, and Musicians sing so bright.
You are why Dreamers dream, and Dancers dance,
You are why Poets write.

You are, and so You will always be.
One of a kind, a Child of the Universe forged in the furnace of stars,
Unique, throughout Eternity.

You are part of forever, infinity’s might.
You are Life immemorial,
You are why Poets write.

You are the Light from which All has meaning.
A courageous mirror, a reflection of Your Friends,
A Monument to the Spirit of being.

You are the Song Your Children sing with delight.
You are a Chorus of Your Parents, Your Lover’s complement,
You are why Poets write.