I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


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Saturday, June 11, 2022

Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

 

from this week in 2005 (I was 60)

 

                  Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

    The front nine is okay, some repetitive, back and forth holes in seemingly typical Rees Jones style.  Fairway bunkers in series on either side and sometimes in progression from one side of the fairway to the other.  One trap leads to another if you’re not out cleanly.  The course was in very good shape considering last night's warm rain that dissipated during our first three holes.  My game also had a dreary start.

          Don Brown’s witty chatter in an Irish brogue (as real as magic) and the diminished showers, brightened my demeanor and put me into the game.  Clouds parted to blue skies after the third hole.  The back nine had interesting mounding that created a stadium effect on a number of holes.  The course also moved through some scenic wooded areas of pine in a nice atmosphere of seclusion.

         We rode up to the 18th tee box to see four large birds perched near the markers.  At first I thought they were statue replicas; the four courses here are named for birds.  But, here there was a falcon (or large hawk) and three turkey vultures.  Soon we realized the hawk had a squirrel pinned to the ground.  The vultures were looking for an opportunity.  They held still until we stepped from the carts.  Then the hawk flew off with the squirrel dangling from its talons.  It evaded the vultures maneuvering through the pines far off into the distance.  This round of golf instantly moved into the realm of the memorable.

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