Hell of a Guy

I Tickle Me…


A two weeks ago while on a golf outing, well for some it was, for me, not so much. I am not a golfer, and, quite frankly, I perhaps should not even be allowed to own a set of golf clubs. The set of clubs I have I have owned for about 30 years…they are somewhat less than “state-of-the-art” by today’s standards.

First tee jitters? Not really. My game just really sucks, and that was evidenced by my first swing and a drive that more or less trickled just in front, thanks be to God, the infamous red tees. My game when downhill from there. Occasionally, I struck the ball well, but those occasions were sparse at best, and even at that, my good shots by definition and description were those that traveled down the straight down the fairway, distance didn’t really matter, nor did loft. There was a number of times I had to laugh out loud at myself. Yes, I played that badly.

The Nancy and I were in a foursome. Our partners were both pretty good golfers, well, at least they were fair. One guy, a dear, longtime friend is very obviously a golfing perfectionist and way too critical of himself. Anytime one of his shots was not perfect, he got visibly and openly upset…and at times not very much fun to be with.
At one point our friend asked me how I could laugh at myself as I did. I simply explained I get to laugh at myself many, many times each and every day, not when just playing golf.

I have found and totally believe we need to laugh about the silly and stupid things we do. I believe it to be much healthier to laugh at myself than to be critical of myself. And, very much in that sense, I am one very healthy guy.

And that is all I have to say about that…

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