Hitting Golfballs with Baseball Bats

“Ting!” the sound of metal against whatever golf balls are made from (I looked it up the outer layer is called “surlyn.”). But that’s not important, what is important is that sound. That’s the sound I keep hearing in my head. Along with low chatter of male voices. Most often three and occasionally joined with other voices. I grew up in a valley, along with relatives living in nearby houses. My grandparents were beside of me and on their other side was my grandma’s aunt and her family. Then later on after a divorce my uncle moved in between those two. Family was close almost constantly. I had both parents. My grandparents next door were always there, and their middle son lived with them. Then as I said their youngest son moved back in with them and then beside of them when I was pretty young. My sister and I were quite literally raised by a village. There is a whole lot of family I could discuss and all are important and special in their own ways but I want to talk about those golf balls specifically. My dad at some point before I can remember started a game where he and his best friend, my oldest cousin on my mom’s side, along with any other person around who wanted to play, would hit golf balls with baseball bats. The valley we lived in was so large and at the back there is a huge field and then a large hill with forest on it. This whole property was owned by my grandparents. Do you know how far golfballs will travel when you hit them with a baseball bat? They go very far, very very far. At least when someone good at it hits them, mine never even made it as far as the creek.

The main and most often players of this game were my dad, my cousin as I said, named Tony, and my youngest uncle on that side, Mark. The reason I keep hearing the sound of those bats hitting those golf balls is because less than a year before I started writing this, my cousin Tony passed away. Tony was always around, being my dad’s best friend, he was just always around. There are so many things I could say to describe him but what I always thought of when I thought of him was a writing trope about a ‘badass with a heart of gold’. You know those movies where there is a gruff man who is strong, independent and just a little grouchy. He seems intimidating at the start of the film but over time he ends up being the most caring character in the movie, doing the most to help the other characters. That was him, if I ever met someone who fit that role, it was him. But one of my earliest memories of my life is when I was a toddler in the back seat of the car and my mom was driving off and Tony was in the driveway watching us leave and he ran and banged on the car to stop her. He opened the door and shut it tight, saying my door wasn’t shut all the way. Even then I remember thinking, ‘wow he just saved my life’. I was actually in awe at the time because I was so young and that was such a huge deal to me. And that was just the first thing I remember him doing to help someone. He has actually saved at least one other person’s life literally but that’s not my story to tell and that’s just the one I know about and honestly if other people hadn’t saw it happen, no one would know because he wouldn’t tell anyone himself. He didn’t like attention like that on himself, he never helped anyone to get credit for it, he tried very hard to hide his kindness. Later in life when he became a Christian, he did get more open with sharing his love but I know that was probably because he wanted God to get the glory, sincerely. I haven’t met anyone else in my life that was more selfless if I’m being completely honest.

And that’s one of the trio, next is my dad, he’s alive and he’s in the hospital, I won’t go into detail because those details don’t matter. His sicknesses don’t get to have the story of his life, that’s why I didn’t say how Tony died, because life matters more than illness. So anyway, my dad, instead of telling everything because there is a lot, I will say that I get a lot of my personality from my dad, a lot. And one period of time in my life that really shows that is when my mom and sister were out of the house for most of the day. I was in high school, my sister went to college in the evenings and my mom worked evenings. I was at school during the day and dad was at work, so in the evenings it was just him and I at home until at least night time. What did we do that was so amazing? Nothing really, he would watch a movie and at that time the desktop computer that had dial-up internet was in the tv room. So he would sit on the couch and watch something while I played mindless games on the computer. He would cook something simple for dinner like frozen fish sticks and French fries baked in the oven. Those movies were always just his ‘brand’ of movies. Disaster movies, comedies, sci-fi more often than anything else. Recently I tried to figure out why my comfort genre of movie is b-level sci-fi and then remembered those years. Those were times when I felt so at peace in my home, there was no noise in the house, no chaos, no fighting. Because my mom and sister who I love dearly, are both extroverts, at least at home and so they were never just quietly watching tv or movies like dad and I. And there is more I could say about him too but for now this is the thing I want to talk about because that is the time that he influenced me the most for some reason. Nothing even really happened it was just him, living and letting me be quiet because we both enjoyed that. He let me be me.

Speaking of letting me be me, we come to my uncle Mark. If anyone is the uncle Jesse in my life it’s him. My other uncle who I also love dearly was the comedian and totally the uncle Joey. So Mark was the musician and uncle Jesse. I guess that would make my dad the Danny but that is so not accurate for his personality, my dad acts more like a strange mix of Jerry Seinfeld and Tommy Chong somehow. Anyway, Mark is the first person I remember telling me what kind of music to listen to. And I wish I could share it with the entire world but he was always a little shy about it, but Mark can sing like a country music angel. And he always did it a lot, at least at home and around family. Right now he is also having a lot of health issues. You know the first cd I remember having was ‘in pieces’ by Garth Brooks and I always said Mark gave it to me but I don’t know if I stole it or not, but I do know he was happy that I liked it and never took it away from me. I was only around five at the time. I would listen to that entire album and cry with the sad songs and feel empowered by the inspiring ones. Since then Mark has randomly given me so many more cds and even vinyl albums when I got into vinyl. Mark was my first and maybe biggest music influence and I’ve spoken of that a lot on social media before so I won’t go much more into that. What I will say that I never really realized until recently was how much of an impact he had on me as a person. I mean, I knew he was important to me, he was practically a second father to me. I mean I literally have electricity in my house installed for free because of him (he’s an electrician). Anyway all the things he’s done for me are important and I’m grateful but he also did something I didn’t even realize and maybe he didn’t even realize. I was a rebellious person since, well as far back as I can remember. And it wasn’t that I was ever a troublemaker, I just didn’t follow rules that I didn’t understand. And one thing I remember being extremely rebellious about was people ‘putting on airs’. Honestly, it’s a strange thing for a child who is only about eleven to get very mad that adults act different around “more important” people. But man that was one of the things I got the maddest about. Also I was expected to treat “special” people differently too.

I would not do it. Now I won’t say who did this or who it was for because I love all those people dearly, and now I understand their reasons. I was just at that age learning what behaviors I was against and for, I was learning to be who I am now. And it wasn’t just that, it was a lot of times when I would get into arguments with other adults, even my saintly and pretty much perfect grandmother. If anyone on earth is an example of God’s unconditional love in my mind it’s that woman and even she and I had our moments because as I said, I was rebellious. Now with her it was rare and specifically about me not wanting to go to bed early when I spent the night so she was kind of right anyway but I didn’t know why it mattered what hours I was asleep as long as I did it eventually. Plus me and my best friend, who is also my cousin (and Mark's daughter) would do just the most random crazy things, that poor woman dealt with a lot. But anyway, I remember getting into arguments with a lot of adults in my life, except my dad, my aunt Judy and my uncle Mark. But my dad was quiet and you know, my dad, so I sometimes complained about other adults to him but not much and Judy didn’t live right next door convenient like Mark did. So who was there when life was so totally unfair? I’m telling you, anytime I got in trouble I was headed straight to Mark’s, he might have gotten so exhausted and annoyed but I was there a lot. Why? Because he was the “cool uncle” the youngest one who wouldn’t tell on you if you smoked a cigarette or something. Anyway of course all us grandkids of the family saw him that way, even his own kids probably. But until recently I didn’t realize how much that mattered on the level that it did. Being someone who was told a lot that I was wrong and bad and even the adults who never said it treating me like a kid. Even if it was in a loving and not bad way, I felt like a kid in their presence. Mark was the only adult around who just treated me like a person, talked to me like a person. He didn’t treat me like I was an adult in an irresponsible sense, he was still protective of me and things like that but he didn’t talk down to me, or condescend to me. He didn’t say things like ‘aww do you like school?’ or whatever adults think kids want to talk about. He was always talking about things we genuinely had in common, like music or whatever. And half the time he was on my side about whatever I was arguing about with the other adults, or at least let me vent about it without scolding me. Half the time he might have thought I was being a spoiled ungrateful brat but he never said that or even acted like he felt that way, he just let me be me. He was the adult in my life that made me feel like maybe I wasn’t just a ‘bad kid’ even when I was in trouble. And looking back sometimes I was completely right to be totally honest. And he was always talking about and by example, treating people the same, being kind to people, giving people grace to make mistakes, not judging people especially not for things like money or social status. Looking at it like that, the thing I would want him to know is all that plus it helped me keep those parts of myself because he didn’t act like I was wrong for being that way. My strong sense of justice and passion for fairness in the world, defending the underdog and not judging people. There are parts of me, the parts of me that I like about myself, that were influenced by him.

These three men, influenced my life so much but they were always there, every day, the house I’m sitting in now was built by my dad’s and Tony’s hands. The electric in it was wired through the whole place by Mark. My own house was worked on by my dad and Tony would have helped if it weren’t for health issues he had, and also electric installed by Mark. None of them are here with me in the house right now but they are everywhere. I’m sitting right beside the barstool that Tony sat in every time he came over to visit which up until he died was almost always more than twice a week. I still remember how his voice sounded when he told me he loved me. I still have our facebook messages and the last one he sent was an encouraging Bible verse because of my own anxiety. This man knew he was dying and didn’t say a word because he didn't want to hurt his family or stress anyone out, instead he spent that time trying to make me and others feel better about our minor in comparison issues. If that doesn’t define him completely nothing does. My dad is improving and I’m not sure how Mark is today or how they or honestly any one of us will be tomorrow but all three of them have been on my mind. Even though Tony is gone to heaven already and the other two are okay for now, I can’t help but lump them in as a trio for some reason. And it’s not to take from the other family members I love, who matter as much all for their own personal individual reasons. I have special relationships with most of my family members in their own unique ways, it’s just that these three are on my mind right now. And then I realize that they are all three father figures in my life, not the only ones but the main ones. Of course my actual dad, but also my uncle and I never even realized how much Tony was to me until he was gone. We just expect people who are always there will always be there, we take the little things for granted. Hearing those golfballs getting hit with a baseball bat, sometimes a wood bat but mostly metal, that sound. I remember that sound so clearly and it makes me feel back there, those times. Those are some of the best times in my life. I wasn’t even a part of doing that with them besides making them let me try to hit one and failing for about a five minutes before I would give up and go do something else. But just knowing they were there, hearing them do that, it was something I considered a given when it wasn’t. And now it’s all I can think about.