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Golf Story: It Settles in your DNA –

By Wayne Halm –

Each evening Sally and I sit out in front of our garage and talk story.  Talk-chat-gossip-discuss, it’s all the same – I just prefer the Hawaiian term “talk story”.  We talk, we listen, and talk some more – swapping opinions and ideas on everything.  These evenings are precious, I’d rather talk story with Sally than most anything.

One of my earliest memories is of people talking story.  My parents and their friends would sometimes sit in the yard talking.  If I was quiet I could listen – but my four year old attention was usually captured by the book.  The book was always around somewhere, we called it the wish book.  It had lots of bright pictures.  I liked that.

It was the mid 50s.  I was just a little guy back them.  I'm the one on the far right.

It was the mid 50s. I was just a little guy back them. I’m the one on the far right.

 

Of course the wish book was the Sears catalog.  But I didn’t know that, to me it was just a book of bright colorful pictures.  It took another couple of years for me to realize that people could buy the stuff in the pictures.

I knew about stores back then.  I went shopping with my Dad – usually for tools and materials to make the things we wanted or needed.  That was a dangerous environment for me.  A four year old boy has absolutely no defense against the “do-it-yourself-virus”.  I was infected.  There is no cure for the DIY-virus, it gets into your blood and settles in you DNA – you have it for life.  The big symptom is a deep rooted urge to make and do things yourself no matter how long it takes.

I’ve learned to somewhat control the symptoms, to at least consider buying the item or service needed, but DIY is always my first thought.  (I didn’t make my golf clubs, I bought them – but I do have an idea for making a putter out of a lava rock.)

To this day my DIY-virus can suddenly flair up out of control.  When our old gate fell down – I was in Home Depot before I realized what was going on . I bought the wood and built another one myself.  Fortunately, it seemed to work out.

Honestly, I was driving out of the Home Depot parking lot with the boards in eh car before I woke up.  Too late to turn back at that point.  A week later we had a gate.

Honestly, I was driving out of the Home Depot parking lot with the boards in the car before I woke up. Too late to turn back at that point. A week later we had a new gate.

 

Then a “DIY Miracle” happened.  Sally asked me to use the scraps from the gate to build a table for our talking story area.  “I don’t want a normal table. I want a crazy table,” she said.

“DIY-heaven!”  My imagination ran wild.  For three days I thought about the crazy table.  But “crazy” just wasn’t working for me – and I went with what I was feeling.

This is the table I made.  Sally bought the chairs - but yes, DIY-Wayne made the white fold up Puppy fence in the background.

This is the table I made. Sally bought the chairs – but yes, DIY-Wayne made the white fold up Puppy fence in the background.

 

Did Sally like her table?  Oh yes, definitely.  “I love it,” she squealed.  Then ran over, hugged me, and whispered, “I love it.  You made it just for me.  I love it – and I love you!”  Sometimes life gets good.

So what does this story have to do with golf?  Well, I passed on a round to make the table – skipped another round to write this story – and now visions of the lava rock putter keep dancing through my head.

But don’t worry.  My DIY-virus is under control for the moment.  I’ll be back out on the course in a day or two.

Come play golf with me.

 

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