From the Vault: Golf

By Eilene Lyon

This one really IS from the vault, aka the storage closet under the stairs. It sports some serious dust, cobwebs and maybe a mouse turd or two. It’s been years since I put the clubs to use, but I suspect they may play a part in my future fitness regime.

I grew up in a golfing family, but was the only one not particularly enamored with the sport. Little Brother even played on our high school golf team. My perfectionist streak doomed me by age 10. My golf skills were so poor and my temper so great, that I decided to quit rather than roam the course beating my clubs against defenseless trees in my frustration.

This set of clubs and the bag they’re in have several origins.

When I was attending The Ohio State University in the early 80s, I discovered that some of the cute guys were into golf. Also, the university had two beautiful 18-hole courses that were essentially inner-city parks—great places to take a walk.

Deciding that I could play and simply not concern myself with scoring, I found a set of clubs at a garage sale for $15. The bag was big and clunky, but the size of the clubs was right for me. Now I could hang with the guys and enjoy the great outdoors!

After moving to Durango, a boyfriend, who happened to be from Snowmass, convinced me to play again. He gave me this nice, lightweight bag. I crocheted the wood covers to match. More than a decade ago, I inherited some clubs from my mother-in-law, replacing most of my $15 set.

I’ve played off and on over the past 40 years, mostly off. I even played in a few fundraising tournaments (best-ball style). Once in a great while I go to the driving range and whack a bucket of balls. The Putterer (note, not the Putter) does not play golf, and aside from a friend in Denver, I don’t currently know anyone who does. But, like bowling, it still appeals to me as a form of recreation. Just so long as I keep doing it for fun, not scores.