Golf is not a walk in the park for this amateur

Many of you are taking your golfing excitement home with you, but I will stay behind as my annual flirtation with the game sputters.

The rest of the year, I don’t pay much attention to golf and certainly don’t play it, but each April I renew my fascination with it.

Years ago, a co-worker and I were going home one night when he asked me whether I wanted some golf clubs.

“Sure,” I said.

I would have responded the same way if he had offered a doghouse or roofing shingles, not because I had a dog or a leaky roof but because a journalist never turns down freebies unless it conflicts with his workaday ethics. Got half a sandwich you don’t want? Sure, hand it over.

So, although I had never stepped onto a golf course with a club in my hand – had not, in fact, ever held a club before – I told Wayne, “Sure.”

“They’re left-handed clubs,” he said by way of apology.

“I’m left-handed,” I said.

“And they’re scratch-and-dent specials,” he explained.

“My hands won’t know the difference,” I said. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

After thanking him, I drove home and proudly lugged the clubs, in a cracked old golf bag, inside for my wife to see.

In the morning, she reacted as I knew she would.

“Get those ugly things out of here!”

“Ugly? They’re finely crafted implements of recreation,” I said. “You’re always telling me I need to get more exercise.”

“Your first exercise is to carry them out of sight,” she said. “You don’t know how to play golf.”

“What a great time to learn,” I said. “Most middle age men invest a fortune in golf equipment before giving up and tossing it into the woods. When that time comes for me, I won’t lose anything but free clubs.

“And look at these little pockets in the bag. Wayne left balls in there, and tees. Everything but instructions, but how hard can golf be?”

I found out when I started knocking balls around in our huge back yard. Retrieving them was a chore, and many of them never showed up again until summer arrived and the mower chewed them up.

That Christmas, my wife warmed to my golfing career and bought me a pitching wedge. A good one. Sure, it was right-handed, but strangely enough, I hit the ball better with it than with my left-handed clubs.

My stepson took me to a par-3 course, and it was fun, but I never graduated to anything bigger. I was still tracking down balls on the bigger acreage and didn’t want to worsen that job on a regulation size and weight golf course. Too much exercise is as bad as too little, I read somewhere.

And so, my clubs reside in the closet, seeing daylight only occasionally in our backyard. I watch the buy guys once a year and notice that their clubs all match. They walk a lot, but, you know, they look so tired.

Reach Glynn Moore at

More in Life

Minister’s Message: What unites? Being one in Christ

It seems everywhere you look and on every level people are gridlocked

The secret to this homemade vegetarian lasagna is the addition of fresh noodles from scratch. (Photo by Tressa Dale/Peninsula Clarion)
On the strawberry patch: The secret’s in the noodles

Handmade pasta adds layers of flavor to vegetable lasagna

Virginia Walters (Courtesy photo)
Life in the Pedestrian Lane: Downtime

Now here we are, two-thirds of the way through the longest month of the year

Robert “Bob” Huttle, posing here next to Cliff House, spent the night in this cabin in April 1934 and mused about a possible murder there. (Photo courtesy of the Huttle Collection)
Twists and turns in the history of Cliff House — Part 2

How much of the doctor’s actions Bob Huttle knew when he stayed in Cliff House 10 years later is difficult to know.

Achieving the crispy, flaky layers of golden goodness of a croissant require precision and skill. (Photo by Tresa Dale/Peninsula Clarion)
On the strawberry patch: Reaching the pinnacle of patisserie

Croissants take precision and skill, but the results can be delightful

This 1940s-era image is one of few early photographs of Cliff House, which once stood near the head of Tustumena Lake. (Photo courtesy of the Secora Collection)
Twists and turns in the history of Cliff House — Part 1

Here, then, is the story of Cliff House, as least as I know it now.

Minister’s Message: What’s in a name?

The Scriptures advise, “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.”

Visitors put on personal protective equipment before an artist talk by Dr. Sami Ali' at the Jan. 7, 2022, First Friday opening of her exhibit, "The Mind of a Healthcare Worker During the COVID-19 Pandemic," at the Homer Council on the Arts in Homer, Alaska. (Photo by Michael Armstrong/Homer News)
ER doctor’s paintings follow passage of pandemic

Dr. Sami Ali made 2019 resolution to paint every day — and then the COVID-19 pandemic hit.

Almond flour adds a nuttiness to this carrot cake topped with cream cheese frosting. (Photo by Tressa Dale/Peninsula Clarion)
On the strawberry patch: A ‘perfect day’ cake

Carrot cake and cream cheese frosting make for a truly delicious day off

Minister’s Message: A prayer pulled from the ashes

“In that beleaguered and beautiful land, the prayer endures.”

A copy of “The Year of Magical Thinking” by author Joan Didion is displayed on an e-reader. (Photo by Ashlyn O’Hara/Peninsula Clarion)
Off the Shelf: Didion’s “Year of Magical Thinking” is a timely study on grief

‘The last week of 2021 felt like a good time to pick up one of her books.’