|
|
Rob Perez wrote a response to my recent columns. I have edited it for length as well as reducing the number of insults to the game of royalty. Italics are “Wondering 61’s” response:
For those who do not read these pages cover to cover with a hyperthymesia like recall, in response to a column I wrote that mocked the game of golf as an absurd waste of time, I have been publicly challenged to a round of, wait for it, golf.
…. And for the love of man, I empirically have better things to do than play golf. And yet… a request like this doesn’t come around every day. Certainly not in print. I appreciate the concept, being called out by name, the request. And I appreciate the Hail Mary. I mean, I knew golf was a dying game. According to Google, slowly but surely its numbers decline. Young people flock to other activities, sadly, like pickleball. (Pickleball?!) But I had no idea one golfer’s idea of breathing new life into the game would be… Rob Perez?! …. The same Rob Perez who sometimes writes his columns overlooking a golf course so he will be completely without distraction?! (That’s true, by the way.)
A curious otter looks at Travis Novitsky as he paddles, then pauses his canoe for a photo on the Swamp River. Photo courtesy of Travis Novitsky
Be still my heart. He has not a stone for his heart.
Then Aldrich mentions a bunch of poets talking about why a golf course is some kind of communion with nature.
Golf is poetry in motion.
My response: A golf course is nature?! Hmm. Steve, based on close reading of your column, you live in Grand Marais, Minnesota. That means you know nature. Grand Marais literally holds breathtaking nature in every direction. To the north… the Gunflint Trail. Off the Gunflint, of course, the Boundary Waters. You might have noticed Lake Superior abutting the town. And finally, Grand Marais is a stone’s throw from the Superior Hiking Trail. Heck, if you look straight up at night you might see the Northern Lights. Now that’s Nature with a capital “N”. …. There is no such thing as a golf course in Nature. Eighteen holes of winding nothingness didn’t not grow like that on its own. The average course is 150 acres. That’s a lot of nature that isn’t Nature. That highly manicured turfgrass, be it Bermuda, Bentgrass, or whatever, is not indigenous. That sheen of moisture in the morning is not dew. That’s Monsanto’s Roundup. No, a golf course boasts about as much Nature as The Las Vegas Strip.
The Round Up hurts, perhaps because true? What does he call all that not so manicured grass and those trees and hills?
That said…I like a good binary question. Will you play golf? Yes, or no? It’s much easier than more abstract questions like: What is a good life? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is golf a game at all? A good binary question satisfies to the soul. Today’s binary question is: Will I play golf with Steve? My binary answer is: Kinda.
Kinda? What brass!! Binary now means three! See below.
I will play golf with you on one condition: I will not be doing the actual playing-golf-with-you part. Instead, I will send in my stead, my Father-in-law. (…he’s usually up for a hearty misadventure. Also, he reads this column with great irregularity so he may enjoy stumbling across this. Hi Evan!) My Father-in-law lives in your neck of the woods AND enjoys golf. …. When you are done, I will meet you at the clubhouse and I want to hear all about your round. I really do. I like passionate people talking about things they’re passionate about. And, apart from that whole being a lawyer thing, you seem like a good guy.
Rob libels golfers and lawyers in the same column But, be still my heart.
That said, I do not have the time nor the inclination to play a round of golf with a self-proclaimed hacker, not even a hacker with a pen. But how about a drink?
Okay. You pay unless you walk or ride along with your dad and me and learn to appreciate a walk in the woods that may not be spoiled? When will you be here amongst our Real Nature next? We can drink on my nearby patio, perhaps with Dave Saari, a real writer/golfer…
Rob’s response: “I should have mentioned, the rest of it looks like great/fun. I guess I’ll be buying.
Be still my half-happy heart! When? Not Fisherman’s Weekend or Wednesday mornings Senior League.
Steve Aldrich is a retired Hennepin County lawyer, judge, and mediator, serving as judge from 1997-2010. He and his wife moved here in 2016. He likes to remember that he was a Minnesota Super Family Lawyer before being elected to the bench. Now he is among the most vulnerable to viruses. Steve really enjoys doing weddings, the one thing a retired judge can do without appointment by the Chief Justice. He writes this column to learn more about his new home area and to share his learnings with others—and to indulge our curiosities. Bouquets and brickbats to the editor or stevealdrich41@gmail.com. Copyright Stephen C. Aldrich and News Herald, 2022
Leave a Reply