A fun golfing day

Actually, I don’t think there is any such thing as fun golfing day, although I am aware that many others do not share my opinion. In my youth, some of my happiest moments were on the golf course, going around the lovely green links with my father and carrying his clubs for him. I thought this was wonderful – a nice private time with him, and a time in which no one else could intrude. But that doesn’t count as golfing because someone else was actually doing the swinging at those wretched little balls. Some of my less happy moments were actually trying myself to hit the golf ball in the direction of the green. I just had no talent for it, and without my father along, it was boring. And humiliating. My score was usually treble those of my friends. Yesterday, however, I had another fun day at the links, this time as a volunteer at the Hunthausen Golf Tournament – a St. James event to raise funds for the outreach services. My friend Maria is the coordinator of this event, and I think she considers it a purgatorial ordeal – one which will put many stars in her already very starry crown. But I must confess that I enjoyed myself quite a lot. I went with my friends John and Peggy, and our jobs involved the silent auction. Here they are going through the auction bids, checking to see who the happy winners are. Peggy, a quilter, donated a lovely quilt, and Maria herself was the lucky bidder on that. Sadly, despite it being the most beautiful auction item, I didn’t take a picture of it, as I was not really in true picture taking mode. My specific job was to tell folks whether or not they had won anything in the auction. This turned out to be fun in several ways. Many of the winners’ names were familiar to me, but I didn’t know who they actually were, and I was glad to finally meet them. Also interesting were the reactions of some of those who were outbid and didn’t win the desired item. Most took it well, but a few actually seemed angry, and one fellow, who appeared to be quite well heeled, simply could not believe that his bid was not the top one. He loitered over the table, hovering over my shoulder, fingering my pile of papers to get a better look at the winning bids - quite sure that his name had to be on the list of winners. Then he wanted to see the paper with the actual bids on it. He needed actual proof that he didn’t win. We ignored his absurd request. Hmmmm, the rich are indeed different from you and me, as FSF so aptly says.





There was a “Wine Roulette” table, run by John, and the winners here were more pleased with their prizes. One purchased a bottle of wine for $20, and took a chance on getting a fabulous bottle of vin something special, or more likely, a bottle of vin almost ordinaire. None of it looked as ordinaire as what I usually serve, however. The bottles, all wrapped up, were a delightful display.