I’ll bet you thought I’d write about last week’s mass murders in El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio. But I won’t. What can I say to you that you don’t already know?
There have been 250 mass shootings — acts of domestic terrorism — in this country since 2016. What does it matter if domestic terrorists can get weapons and ammunition so powerful they can kill and injure dozens before they either kill themselves, commit suicide by cop, or surrender? What is there to be said? You already know.
After such incidents, what does it matter if our political leaders come out all crocodile-tear sad, asking people to pray for the dead? Then, as spineless, NRA-bought politicians, they block any sensible measure to slow or stop the carnage. You already know. There is nothing to embellish here.
I’ll bet you think I was going to rant about how our president’s reference to Mexican immigrants as a subhuman invasion is the reason for the hateful murders in El Paso. But nope. You already know.
I’ll bet you think I’d write about our president’s mean-spirited tweets about Rep. Elijah Cummings and Baltimore’s poor, crime-ridden, rat infested slums. But nope.
As to poor folks in Baltimore (which is in Cumming’s district) and denizens of America’s inner-city areas, why don’t they just move? Stupid, I guess. Or maybe just too poor to move. I’m not a sociologist. I don’t know. So I’m not going to write about it.
Elijah Cummings’ claim to fame is that he got hit in the head with a brick marching to make America a more perfect union. So what if Cummings survived and became a leading member of the House of Representatives? He is a tough, smart, courageous, human rights icon. But I don’t need to write about that.
I’d rather write about golf (thanks for the lesson, Merle!).
Golf is a game where you take a special-made stick and try to hit a little dimpled ball, hopefully only four times before you finally knock it into a little hole 400 or so yards away from where you started. That’s a par 4.
We have four golf courses around here, all not 10 minutes away from each other. And there are always people on them, swinging their sticks, hitting dimpled balls, cursing, spitting, throwing their sticks, and pretending to enjoy themselves. Ever so often, I am one of them. (I go only for the exercise.)
The only public course around is Grandview. That’s where I usually go when I feel like torturing myself. Not only is there a golf course, but also a putting green and a very, very nice restaurant and bar there.
With a little fixing up, it could easily be one of the finest golf venues in Indiana. In fact, some years ago, I tried to get a group of fellow demented patrons to organize ourselves as “The Friends of Grandview.” Well, to make a long story short, we did.
The purpose of the group was to work with the city, local businesses, and the golfers themselves, to make every tee box (that’s where you start hitting the little ball), every fairway (the place you hope your tee shot will land) every green, every ball washer, bush, and bathroom first class.
I even got the mayor at the time to come out and talk to “The Friends.” When he did, a funny thing happened. After His Honor got there and saw 40 or so “Friends,” he grew angry and said he had been ambushed. Then he got in his car and drove off without asking a question or saying another word.
After that, “The Friends” disbanded. And that’s how a promising public/private possibility remained just that. As a result, I suspect, although the course is still decent and reasonably well kept, it’s still far from what it could be.
Now, with all the heartbreaking news these days, you may wonder why I’m writing about golf and Grandview. It’s really quite simple:
Charity begins at home. Other than voting, there is nothing one person can do about what’s wrong in the world, even though I guess we probably agree on 90% of the wrong stuff we see. All it takes is a couple of eyeballs.
Working together in common cause to make a difference anywhere in our city, our own backyard, makes us safer, happier, and, overall, more prosperous. Everything is connected. But, my guess is you already know that.
Have a nice day.
Anderson resident Primus Mootry is a retired school teacher. His column appears Wednesdays in The Herald Bulletin.