I've received several emails expressing feelings of gratitude for being a part of "Golf My Way Home" but none so eloquent as Gary Piercy's (pictured here with his kids Bella and Cooper.) Following the email is the story of where I was when Gary picked me up and the details of our ride together from my perspective.
"John-
I hope this finds you well, and the road has been kind. Life here is returning to normalcy, but I find you and your venturesome journey are never far from my thoughts. It's tough to study another credit memorandum when I keep wondering what cracked windshield you may be looking through or where the road is taking you today.
I was trying to explain our encounter to a co-worker of mine, and he tried to characterize it (somewhat dismissively) as some tired journey of self discovery. What he doesn't get and I was unable to articulate is that this trip is not for you, not even completely for your Dad. It is for people like me, who needed to put a face to what boundless joy for life looks like - what possibilities exist for all of us? what stories might we someday tell? how can this zeal manifest itself in mundane places like Nebraska? (owls in ancient trees, and fireflies dancing in the corn) But mostly, I believe your trip is for all those people that were so close to pulling over and giving you a lift, but just couldn't let themselves live a few moments outside of their comfort zone. What a great few moments they missed, something I hope they learn from your narration of the experience. The best thing about your journey and the hope that radiates from it is the fact that it likely will mean something different to everyone you meet along the way, and I feel blessed to have a part in it.
Well, I'd better get to bed. Tina (my wife) is giving me grief about going on and on about our encounter. But, I think she is smitten with your intrepid spirit as well, as a check of her internet history reveals she keeps clicking back on golfmywayhome.org, so keep the updates coming!
Peace!
GP
p.s. - Here's a pic of me and the kids, Bella and Cooper, so you can get a sense of what motivates ME every day"
Gary Piercy picked me up around noon on a Sunday in Gothenburg, Nebraska on his way to play Wild Horse Golf Club. I'd somehow miraculously made it from eastern Colorado to Gothenburg the previous evening for the sole purpose of playing Wild Horse thereby adding an extra dose of gritty spirit to the journey by exposing myself to hitchhiking-unfriendly Nebraska for the sake of good golf.
I stayed at the Super 8 motel out on Interstate 80 and after working on the website all morning began walking the three or four miles across town to the golf course. The skies were threatening rain and I'd had some serious problems getting rides from Nebraskans the previous afternoon so it probably would've been wiser to take a cab, but I hadn't "cheated" (cabbed it) the entire trip... besides I was curious to find out if the locals would override their anti-hitchhiking DNA and pick up a kid wearing a J Crew polo shirt and sky blue Ralph Lauren Bermuda shorts, carrying a golf bag on his shoulder and walking in the direction of the only golf club in town. I was what you'd call an "open book" and if you'd made me bet, I would've guessed I'd have gotten a ride in five minutes/ten cars tops.
I couldn't have been more wrong. I walked about halfway to the course as the skies roiled and rumbled overhead and car after car drove past - the drivers giving me the usual array of expressions: sympathetic shrugs, bemused smiles, mistrusting glares, curious stares and, my personal favorite: avoidance of eye contact altogether. Regardless, the result was the same: "Fughedaboudit!"
Finally when I got to the outskirts of town and felt like I should be nearing the course, I came across a guy washing his truck in his driveway. I asked him how much further it was to Wild Horse.
"Oh a good two miles or so." he said.
I asked him if he thought a local would eventually give me a lift.
"Not very likely" he said.
Out of guilt or karmic obligation or just plain goodwill he offered to drive me the rest of the way himself. I thought about it for a second (it was tempting), but decided to keep hoofing it and see what happened. I genuinely wanted to know if a local would pick me up... and one finally did. Well, kind of.
"Not very likely" he said.
Out of guilt or karmic obligation or just plain goodwill he offered to drive me the rest of the way himself. I thought about it for a second (it was tempting), but decided to keep hoofing it and see what happened. I genuinely wanted to know if a local would pick me up... and one finally did. Well, kind of.
Gary's from Omaha - over two hundred miles from Gothenburg - so I was still able to gripe about the stingy, sequestered, scaredy-cat locals. And it was funny because when I asked Gary why he picked me up he told me he was worried that if he hadn't pick me up it might cause him bad luck on the golf course .
Now that is exactly the kind of thinking I can relate to! Forget about bleeding hearts and cultural biases...what about the cold, hard trickle-down economics of karma? Pick up the kid or suffer the consequences! If only everyone thought this way.
And there was another bonus: my determination to hoof it to Wild Horse and test the mettle of small town Nebraskans instead of accepting the ride from the guy washing his truck also earned me a lift all the way across the state to Omaha after the round. In fact, at midnight Gary went over an hour round trip out of his way to drop me in Council Bluffs, Iowa so I wouldn't have to hitch through the city in the morning.
In short, I never did find out the true extent of the anti-hitchhiking sentiment in Nebraska because Gary got me out of the state in one fell swoop.
No comments:
Post a Comment