Hitting a ball off of a cliff

Last night while I was on the phone with one of my wheelchair tennis friends, she told me that a golf player had just hit a ball off a cliff on the course at the U.S. Open. Curious, I began to watch too.

Golf has never been a sport I watch. I had paternal cousins who lived up in Connecticut who were avid amateur golfers. I recall visiting them and listening to their tales about golfing, but it never interested me. My friend isn't interested in golf either. But we were riveted to the screen to see how the guy was going to get out of the jam.

Life can be like that too. Our curiosity is sometimes piqued when another person gets into a difficult situation, although as we mature we learn it's far different when a person gets into real trouble in life than a professional athlete hits a ball off of a cliff. Sometimes we watch for a while. We may try to help out. Or we may turn away. You won't hear any sermonizing about this from me. I've had all three reactions, and I've usually regretted turning away or being a passive observer. I've never regretted helping out.

I've learned a deep respect for people who don't treat life situations as a spectator. There are many of them. I meet them, read about them and hear about them. Many don't ask for anything in return. They quietly help out, then go on with their own lives. They don't waste time attributing blame. In fact, if pressed on this point, they remain silent. They let their actions speak for them. They are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, and grandfathers who come from every walk -or roll- of life. On this Father's Day, I wish each and every one of them the best and thank them for all they do.

And, yes, while I was watching golf last night I was thinking about all of this. I can't watch golf without thinking about something else. Neither can my friend, apparently.

"I wish I could move to California," she said wistfully.