It’s January 21, 2012 — almost two months since I lifted a golf club. I remember the last time as if it was yesterday.
18th hole, Ka’anapali Kai…
My golfguy and I were reminiscing about the last 3 weeks when we played golf every day in paradise. We were moaning a bit that we were down to our last 2 or 3 shots for a very long time.
It never occurred to us at the time that someone was listening, until I picked up my sand wedge, took an easy swing and proceeded to shank my new Prov V1 into the water. Sandy was misbehaving. No way was she going to let me par that last hole after hearing she was soon going to be denied active duty for many months. At first I was angry, but then I understood…who could blame her?
Imagine if we treated our kids like we treat our golf clubs. You try playing daily with Johnny for weeks on end and then lock him in his room for 2 or 3 months. Family Services would be on your case faster than you can say PPSD (Post Paradise Stress Disorder).
Golf clubs aren’t just inanimate objects I’ve come to learn. They need continuous tender loving care in order to do their job — a job they do for us every chance they can, without complaint even in the foulest weather.
Clubs require regular exercise to stay fit for golf. But instead of supporting their fitness regime, we dump them in the garage or basement when weather socks us in, just like I did upon our return from Maui. We self-centered golfers are the reason that our clubs suffer S.A.D. (Seasonal Abandonment Disorder) every winter.
Two months ago, my clubs went from swinging in seventh heaven to hunkering down in hell (which in our home is a cold dark shed) – all in a 24 hour period. Talk about a shock! No wonder they feel abandoned.
I did try and explain to them that as soon as it was 8 degrees C (46 F) I would come and take them out for a round. But that any lower temperature than that would be too cold for my hands to grip them.
Weeks went by and soon it was Xmas. Imagine my surprise to find hand warmers in my stocking Xmas morning. Where did they come from?
It didn’t take me long to find out. It was all too clear who the secret Santas were when I discovered my stix waiting for me at the front door.
I confronted them as they stared out at the bleak cold day asking which of them was responsible for the toasty treats. Not one of my sulky soldiers would look at me. Finally Sandy peeked around her neighbor and then I knew.
She was trying to make up for her blunder on my approach shot to 18 the month before. I couldn’t help but smile. Unfortunately the warmers were not enough for me to take her out to play then or since. Below freezing temperatures and snow do not a great round of golf make.
But now it’s January 21, 2012. My clubs continue to sit at the front door staring out towards the south to where the driving range awaits our return someday.
The high today is 7 degrees C (45 F). I’m feeling the full effects of P.P.S.D. and know that my clubs are as S.A.D. as S.A.D. can be.
1 degree is all it takes to turn our frowns upside down. What’s 1 degree?!
The snow has been washed away, there are heaters in the driving range stalls and my handy warmers are in my bag.
I think it’s time for me to reward my loyal lasses for their patience these past 2 months.
It’s time to take the plunge ladies. Brrrr…ring it on and let the 2012 golf season begin!
Don’t go to Maui unless you can risk the horrors of PPSD
Gordon Clark firstname.lastname@example.org twitter.com/gordzillacity
16 Jan 2012
Ihave a warning for everyone. Do not, I repeat do not, go to Hawai‘i on vacation, particu‘ularly if you care about your mental health. I’ve just returned from a family vacation to Ka‘anapali on Maui and I’ve never been more miserable in my…read more…