It’s just a bucket of golf balls

A bucket of golf balls at the driving range

Dad has lived in the same home with the same neighbors for more than 40 years. When one of his neighbors decided to downsize, Dad snagged a few old golf clubs from the front lawn “free” pile. He called to tell me he was taking up golf and was practicing in the backyard. “I found a couple golf balls around the house!” he exclaimed. Concerned about the small size of his backyard and the six foot block fence, I asked Dad if he thought is was a safe thing to do. He said, “I opened the door of the garden shed for a target. The balls really make some noise when they actually go in.” Pleased that Dad was taking an interest in something new, during my next visit, I took him to the nearby driving range. Since golf was new to Dad, I took him to the pro shop, showed him the practice putting green and we watched a couple of starts from the first tee. He purchased a bucket of balls. We figured out the ball machine together. We had a great time just hitting golf balls. A few days later, Dad called to share he was just returning home from the driving range. He said, “I enjoyed it a lot. But I did get a bit tired and only hit about half the balls in the bucket.” I told Dad it was okay as long as he enjoyed himself. Then Dad shared, “Well, I just poured the rest of the golf balls into a box in the back of my truck. I’ll use them up the next time I go.”

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