But for me those hours together have traditionally been a time for me of learning, listening, sharing and laughing. And it is in those moments of unhurried relationship where he has honored me with some of my most cherished life lessons.
He has a peculiar habit, my father, when he is playing poorly. If he happens to string together several holes of less-than-ideal golf, he will announce "it's time to put a line on the scorecard". And immediately upon recording his score for that hole he will draw a heavy pencil line on the card for all to see. The first time I saw him do this my curiosity got the better of me and I asked the reason. "This marks the hole where I bear down, concentrate more, and play better." And it's the craziest thing: more often than not his score starts improving hole over hole.
I have tried it more than once, putting a line on the scorecard, but it seldom seems to work for me. Probably because I am truly an awful golfer and the mechanical action of drawing of line doesn't make me hit the ball any straighter. As with all other golf appliances, maybe I need an expensive new pencil?
Despite the fact this little habit doesn't work for me at golf, I believe there are fundamental life lessons to be found in this:
- Honesty: Keeping score in golf is very democratic. Everyone announces their own score and the scorekeeper records them. Consequently, golf is rife with cheaters. A five conveniently becomes a four. (Or in my case a nine would become an eight.) In all my years golfing with him though, I have never known Dad to cheat. And as a result his scorecard sometimes ends up with a string of sixes.
- Clarity: As a result of his honesty, Dad is able to take an instant and accurate accounting of his game. If he scattered dishonest fives in a row of sixes the self-deceit would undermine the necessity to draw a line. Without honesty, there can be no clarity.
- Intensity: Dad means it when he says it is time to bear down. The stare gets a little more focused, the concentration before his swing becomes more purified. It doesn't subtract one whit from the joy and fun we have together; it just means in the moments before his turn to hit, the rest of his world fades to black.
- Accountability: Dad always announces when it is time to draw the line. Everyone in his group is aware when he decides to refocus on his game. Regardless whether his game improves that day, he creates a circle of accountability.
- Integrity: Sometimes in golf it just isn't your day. At the end of the game, whether his score improves or not, Dad is the same man. In this he has taught me that golf is a mirror of life: successes and failures should not define who we are, wins and losses should not affect our character.
People commonly talk about drawing a line in the sand. The problem with drawing in the sand is how quickly the line can be blurred or disappear under the external forces of wind, water, and footprints (sometimes our own). Dad's line on the scorecard is a permanent record for all to see. I remember having lunch with him after a particular round, and laughing because his scorecard that day had TWO lines. And his score that day was as lousy on the last hole as it was on the first.
Honesty bred clarity. Clarity allowed him to choose his intensity. The permanance of his lines created accountability. And at the end of an unusually awful round his character was intact. Integrity.
Golf is a game of dedication, concentration, execution, and repetition. Guess what: so is life.
