What to do when not grading essays...

One constant in my life has always been golf. I picked up the sport at about the age of 8 by tagging along after my Dad. I played baseball, soccer, unorganized football, tennis, basketball and many others, but for some reason golf is the one that appealed to me the most. Perhaps it is its solitary nature. Maybe it appeals to an untapped creative side through the art of shot making. It might even be that the nature of the game befuddles even the strongest of performances and challenges your self-worth – that 68 could have been better if you would have made the putts on 7 and 15. Nevertheless, it is the one thing that I must regularly connect with in some way, otherwise my life seems out of balance. In some ways golf acts as a drug. Not as deadly as some, but the lingering effects on the mind can be arguably as damaging. You can ask my wife.



Another strong personal interest of mine ties into my passion for golf but allows me to interact with the landscape in a different way – much more directly. Landscaping and gardening provide, for me, a spiritual renewal that can be compared to the most insightful sermons. My father loved to work outdoors and as I grew up watching him tend to the three acres around our home, that sense of wonder and love of the natural world became mine as well. His father, a farmer by trade, lived for 85 years beholden to no one but himself (much to my grandmother’s dismay a majority of those years) – free to roam from field to field, barn to brook, working on, with, and sometimes against the land. Happily, my wife and I occupy the home that was once theirs and are surrounded by the fields and flowers of my childhood. Sometimes, as I am digging in the beds around the house, I look across the yard and feel a shiver reminded of the moments of toddling across the same grass years ago. Snapping back into the present, I can spot my daughters swinging under the sunshine, hoping that someday they share my same wonder for what surrounds them too.

My final personal interest lies with my family. Having two daughters, one two years old and the other 10 months, is a bit of a challenge, to put it mildly. But I have accepted my fate to be surrounded by women, both day and night, as one of only four male English teachers in a department of 25 or more. It is only natural that I come home each day to a bubbling cauldron of Estrogen that will only get more volatile as the years progress. As an only child, I don’t understand the dynamic of siblings, but I am quickly beginning to understand how those relationships develop. Likewise, I have not a clue about dance recitals, slumber parties, playing dress-up, impromptu concerts and the gawking (at boys), gossip, and giggles that are essential to girls growing up. But I am learning.