The guys in the pro shop make me wait.

“I can get you out in 30 minutes,” the highschooler says.

He wears a turtle-neck, when it’s 80 degrees outside

because

it’s freezing cold in the pro shop.

The other guy, smirks.

He must have a heart somewhere, but I think it only loves himself.

45 minutes later…

I tee-off.

If somebody makes you wait, longer than 15 minutes

they think they are God.

That’s the problem with humanity—there’s only a few humans

who know they are human. Most of them

worships themselves.

I got paired-up with an ex-Spanish Teacher and an ex-Marine.

Both of them asked me the question:

“Are you married?”

“No,” I said. “Are you married?”

“Yes,” said the Marine. “19 years. I have two girls.”

“I’m married too,” said the ex-Spanish teacher, “and I’m 72. I deserve to play golf and enjoy my retirement. I was single for 30 years. Then a woman at church said she wanted to marry me, and now she makes me lists of things to do.”

We played a few holes, to break the ice. “You want a beer?” Asked the Marine.

“No,” I said. “But thank you.”

I meet a lot of generous people on the golf course.

This is true:

If you have to pay to get in, you will find generous people there.

“I got out of education, at the right time. Now, everything is racist,” the ex-Spanish teacher said.

“Yeah,” said the Marine. “I don’t want my girls to become boys.”

“And when their friends make the change, they will make the change too,” the ex-Spanish teacher said. “Social Contagion.”

“I don’t like that we can’t go to a baseball game, without embracing the gay. And I hate that people sit-down for the national anthem.”

My golf game went to shit. Their golf games went to shit.

It was like we were cursed by God, or…

God didn’t care.

A golf ball is like an asteroid traveling through space. It strikes a fat man, at random, in the opposite fairway.

“I watch Fox News and attend Northwest Church,” the ex-Spanish teacher said.

“Really? I’m related to the pastor. His grandma, is my aunt. She just died,” I said.

“Oh—small world. I’ll tell Ben.”

It’s funny, that people love each other, when they think they are the same. Same religion. Same politics. Same profession. Same. Same. Same.

The truth is, we are more different than we like to know, but the illusion of being the same, is what brings us together. And this is why most people reject themselves, for fear of being alone. We are all alone, but we don’t want to think about that. We want to belong, to the Gods that don’t care, to the people who don’t care, to the cold pro shop that doesn’t care, to a universe that is Random, and billions of years old, and doesn’t have a memory beyond a few years. Most of the jobs we do, and the things we accomplish, and the people we knew, won’t matter. We are carbon floating through space and time, a chemical without a face, pure chaos. You can construct meaning from nothing, like a good story, but your story will be forgotten. There is no such thing as immortality—all things will pass away. Look at the foolishness of people. They think they will live forever, like Gods that don’t care.