The Front 9--Chipping Away at a Dream

An ongoing project is to create 50 stories to save up for my millennial kids.  I plan to select 50 photos from my family albums and write a non-fiction story for each one.  Waiting for the muse to arrive won't cut it for this project.  I need to chip away at the task even when there's no active inspiration to be found.

There's the photo and there's the keyboard; I sit down, look at the photo and start writing without much of a plan.  As I write I find that new details are popping into my head and the path of the story doesn't always end up where I first imagined it would.  It's been a very interesting process.

This is the fourth story so far.  My kids know some facts you should know for context--my mom was born at home, grew up in that house while working pretty much as a field hand for her parents' farm, married and lived in other states, then built her own house right next to the one where she was born.  If her parents had had any money she would have liked to have gone to college and become a PE teacher.  Hard work was her life.

When Grama was in her early 60’s she was invited to be a substitute player in a ladies golf league, through the Lady Elks. Although she had been coached in our back yard and on a few golf courses for many years by Grampa and Uncle Mike, she had not played on a regular basis, nor competitively.

She remained a substitute for a few seasons but quickly caught the eye of the regulars and was asked to play regularly in a flight. It took a couple of years for her to move up through the standings to the top flight and there she remained until she retired from the league, around age 80. The league also recognized her bookkeeping abilities and she served as their treasurer for many years. She had no fears about following up when members “forgot” to pay their dues and greens fees, a skill honed while working for Grampa’s businesses.

One of the reasons Grandma enjoyed golf was the opportunity it gave her to be outside, in a beautiful, manicured setting. She often described the gorgeous trees and shrubbery along the fairways and the long views of the greens. I think she appreciated the time spent out of the house on a well-tended course because she was fully aware of how much work it took to create and maintain the grounds. Also, Grampa had a lawn sprinkler business for many years before she joined her league and told her lots of stories he heard from friends who were the course superintendents at Medina, Lake Forest and other exquisitely-landscaped clubs.

When the evenings were long I’d be washing the dishes after supper and see Grama prepping to head outside to hit some balls or practice her putting. She’d dress and spray repellent to ward off the mosquitoes, grab her driver or putter and snatch up the bucket of balls she kept outside the back door. Grampa had even installed a sand trap alongside the lawn shop when I was younger, but after awhile it became more of a kitty litter box and you never knew what might come flying out with a good swing. For chip shots or putting she’d mostly stay in the back yard but for practicing drives she’d head out to the front. If she stood close to where the apartment parking lot is now she could hit the ball all the way over to the far edge of my Grandma’s property. Before we had the apartments all around us she could drive the ball as far as she wanted because the corn and soybeans didn’t care.

Standing in the front yard, with the fading light of evening muting the detail of shapes all around, I wonder if Grama ever imagined that she had created her own lovely golf course at home, with mature trees and shrubs and flowers placed at just the right spots for the best effect. When the grass was freshly cut and the shrubbery thick with leaves I bet it felt like she was walking down a long fairway, with no busy road just past the foliage. All of her design and making, from the hard work she had done on the land since she was a little girl.