After several conversations, some of my Asian friends have reminded me of what the most essential garden instruments are. They told me that I needed some steel.

So, just one quick story before I get out of here. My father actually came to visit me one time in Belarus. Oh, we made a big deal about everything. He was in fine form. He is and has always been a gracious charmer and left nothing but the warmest feelings behind. And yes, a neighbor lady of mine pined for him for the rest of his life.

Now, while my dad was my dad, he was a golfer. Was I a golfer? No. I think I’ve played a few decent holes but my best memories are a couple of absolutely ludicrous drives never mind boggling to think about. 430 yards to plug. I guess I got all of that one.

So of course when my father told us he was making an appearance, my first decision was to build a golf course that we could play on our little plot of land. Let me tell you, I worked at it. Forget about Field of dreams or creating the perfect lawn. I’m a naturist. I’m too lazy to be a fascist. What I did was let the grass take over in a few places, dug a hole and put a rusty bucket in there and stuck a piece of rebar through the center and on the flag on it. Not pitch and putt, just pitch.

The greatest game ever invented? You only have one club and you can play as long as you don’t lose your balls.

Meanwhile, storm clouds gathered. As we got through the preliminaries of the day and the time for us to step on to the first tea came, the gods clearly showed that they were angry at this. I don’t know how descriptive I can be with my language, but even as I write about this moment, mosquitoes are telling me not to go there. Deeply dark things. Foreboding. As in this is a bad idea.

In fact, for the longest time that I have lived here I said that it was the wrath of the president that unleashed the winds and the rains and the floods. I’m talking about a rain that just drenches and fills the land to bloating. I had to carry our cat to safety through hip deep water. Seriously, the moment we tried to take the tea, heaven unleashed the fury.

The entire day was rained out except for the flame that my neighbor still carries for my father to this day.

Or the idea of kicking a golf ball around through the garden might be quite a bit of fun.

Maybe it’s the coolest fucking thing I could possibly imagine. I mean, the watering system failed which means basically I’ve got this line of samurai swords going down the main pathway. I figured a sandwich and one ball and I can play accuracy games all summer. Come to think about it, just put a bucket across the room and I could probably practice in Winter as well.

Dreams of utopia. I wonder how much that unlosable and unbreakable golf ball would cost. How good of a person would you have to be to get one of those handed to you?

Do we play golf in Utopia? How could we not?

Okay, my dad also had a story about playing in a foursome with Willie fucking Mays. No photos for some odd reason. My dad was a photographer and you would think he would have whipped out the 12 lb Polaroid to get this one shot. Or maybe even an autograph was out of the question. I believe this story was true and I believe that my father stepped up and took his hacks with Willie fucking Mays. And my belief is that he comported himself like a ball player.

Anyway, if baseball is a game to play with your friends, then golf is a game where you can play with the planet. The trick is not to damage too much with your shots. Maybe even a tiny piece of artificial turf might do the job. Don’t worry about it. We’re not into torture. We just want to hit some balls while we go walking through the garden.

So, it looks like I own a golf course now. How rich can a man possibly be? I own my own newspaper and I own my own golf course. I’m not bragging. I’m just sprinkling seeds for the future. What’s that? Oh yeah. We just had our first rosebud. How about that?

Unless God or someone who thinks they’re God kills me for even thinking about such things. Shabbat shalom.