I won’t forget you, I promise. In fact, with part of my riches, I’m making provisions to provide you your own copy. Too, if I have time, I will personally sign that copy. Of course it will make that one just a tad more valuable with my signature but I digress. Hmm, what I really need to do is have a signing day at Eagle. Free with your purchase that day will be a copy of my next book. Wait, what am I talking about? I haven’t written one yet, let a alone “my next one”! Right… so, free that day will be a copy of my book.
What I haven’t decided yet is the cover. I’ve asked Jordan Speth if he would like to grace the cover. We are batting around some ideas but haven’t decided on anything. The other option is yours truly. I’d probably go with a classy maroon and white Texas A&M golf shirt with a nice pair of pressed (of course) khakis. Backdrop being somewhere on a local golf course, definitely with water in the background. You get the picture…sunny day, the well groomed green grass of a golf course, classy dressed guy. Wow, what a book cover. And now for the title brandished across the top, “Who Moved My Golf Ball?” Oh I see the dollars pouring in now. One will buy it just for the cover alone!
“Who Moved My Golf Ball” will be an awe inspiring book everyone will want. Fit for graduation gifts, birthday gifts, Father’s Day gifts, and those random stack of books found in people’s potty rooms. Risinger, huh? Have you lost your marbles AGAIN? Nope, just my golf balls. See, Betty Knighton taught me more about life than she ever did as my math teacher all four years at Lindale High School back in the day. She was a super sweet lady that had the gift of teaching and impacting student’s lives like crazy. When someone would hide the projector bulb (some of us remember what those were) and nobody would fess up to it, She’s still find a way to teach and not yell at us. …wont say who that was. Or when a group of kids moved a cord of firewood from the side of her house to in front of her garage door, she’d bring Rice Crispie Treats the following Monday. …wont say who was in that group either but Todd Lane was sure a good lookout. Many years later, I realize she loved us kids more than she loved her job! Wow, what a teacher.
In was in that great spirit of appreciation for her that I felt obliged to help her game of golf those early Saturday mornings. See, Mrs Knighton loved golf and I loved working on the golf course where she profected her game. Shoot!!!! Come to think of it, maybe hitting that little white ball with all her might was her way of releasing her frustration for us? Nah!!!! Back to my story. So as her morning would go, here’s how mine would go. She’d hit her t-shot or second shot or lay up to the green and just as soon as I saw it was her, that helpfulness that I so exude would compel me to move her ball. If she were in the trees, I’d have to toss it to the middle of the fairway. If it was short of the green, I’d help it make its way up a little. In the sand, not after my little kick. I so enjoyed “helping” Mrs Kington and then running to the trees to hide.
Though I intended one thing, what I witnessed was something totally different. What I saw in Mrs Knighton was such a joy as she played the game of golf. Thought I’m sure she knew I was “helping” her game, just the interaction of hitting the ball….moving the ball….her reaction as she found her ball was all worth it. As her game improved, her joy increased. Though I am sure she knew I helped her “game”, the joy I saw in her as she played will never be forgotton.
“Who Moved My Golf Ball” is a book that should be written. Truth be told, that’s not how it all started. Mrs Knighton’s first shot that first morning didn’t go as the last “improving” shots would go. The first line drive down the first hole somehow ended up in the opposing fairway. I will never forget her walking up to the ball and exclaiming, “Who moved my ball?” probably knowing all to well I was hiding in the trees. But, again, the joy she displayed as I was pulling my practical joke stuck. And from there on out, her game of golf would improve and my mornings with Mrs Knighton would too.
And therein lies my blog, don’t let the golf ball movers in your life rob you of the great joy you could have. Do what Mrs Knighton did that day, exclaim “Who moved my golf ball?” and have fun with it. Not every ball move is detrimental and bad. I think we’ve, somehow, come up with the mindset that when things don’t go our way or turn out like we like, we have to get upset. We have to throw our arms in the air as our club goes sailing vs. smiling and taking the next swing. As I conclude and depart, I say we all take a lesson and allow the balls in our lives to be moved and be reminded of the joy those moves can bring!
And to Mrs. Knighton, thank you for not just being a super teacher but being a super special person and teaching me to take joy in the ball moves of life!