On the Eve of Christmas Eve

This was written last night. It is now Christmas Eve. Although we tried, we did not play Friday Morning Golf this morning. It was only spitting when we arrived, but the rain was sporadic, frequently torrential.

As Bob Shults; Rod Stark, his son Matt, and grandson Cole, and i ate breakfast in the club house, one single golfer teed off. When he finished his swing, another torrent of wind and rain pelted him. There was too much wind for an umbrella. He stopped under a tree just forward of the first tee. We didn’t see it, but we were pretty sure he quit then.

Just over thirty years ago, Rod, Marty Linville and i were at the Miramar Naval Air Station course with similar conditions. We had coffee in the clubhouse while waiting for our tee time. Rod, the premier golfer in our group, noted that if it started raining in a round, he would finish the round, but he wouldn’t start a round if it was raining at tee time. Marty and i, following the lead of the premier golfer, both affirmed, nodding our heads vigorously, “Yeh, finish if it starts during the round, but don’t start if it’s raining.

We walked outside as our tee time neared. It was raining in sheets. Marty looked up at the sky, assessed what was happening, and said, “Heavy mist.” We played.

However, we were thirty years younger. Perhaps we are either wiser or less hearty. Our choosing not to play today was a good choice.

May your Christmas and New Year be wonderful. The below is from my thoughts on Christmas last night:

The fire in the hearth was really not needed. It was in the low 50’s outside, high 60’s inside. A rain storm was moving in for the weekend. The rain, the fire, the decorated and lighted tree in the corner evinced the feeling of Christmas.

Handel’s “Messiah” was playing. We read. No television. No movies. The heat was off and the interior temperature was moving lower. The fire was good.

i felt still. Quiet. The beautiful and amazing work of Handel filled the sir. The fire’s heat warmed me. i looked at the tree and thought about how this holiday thing has morphed over the years. With all the lights, commercials, decorations to the hilt, Hallmark tear jerker movies, movies upon movies, this idea of Christmas seems to be hidden behind the decorations on the tree.

Lots of folks don’t believe, don’t care about the meaning. Some question the veracity of Jesus’ birth. Some, especially the older ones, don’t believe in Santa in spite of what Francis Church wrote to Virginia.

You know what. i don’t care.

Not true.

i don’t care if people spend too much, emphasize the giving , the meals, the church services, or the decorations too much, or even the plethora of sports around and even on Christmas Day.

Sitting in my chair, that quiet, still feeling gave me hope, hope that even with all that distracting stuff, all of us would stop for just a second and hope along with me that there would be:

“…on earth peace, good will toward men.”

That is what i care about. i think that covers it.

Merry Christmas.

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