Tigers in the Grass
©Nita Risher McGlawn
The recent scandal involving a certain PGA golfer made me think back to my own affairs on the golf course. Small town summers for college coeds left a lot to invention.
A movie, whether old or new, was almost mandatory for date night in South Arkansas, but what to do after the flick? No trendy restaurants were available for table talk. At the cusp of full adulthood, liquor was an iffy component, depending on availability and raw courage at the local liquor store. But making out was a low budget option and we learned to do that well.
Ralph’s thin, muscular build and sweet disposition made him a fun date. He was witty and I felt comfortable in his presence. He had always been one of my favorite flirts in high school. I was glad he had started calling me for dates that summer. Coming down from the high life as a college freshman, I needed diversions.
Our local country club was up on a hill. Those that knew the golf course also knew how to gain entrance, even when the gates were locked. As summer luck would have it, Ralph was a golfer.
I don’t remember the particulars of gaining access to the putting green, but there we were, on the grassy hill, only the infinite Arkansas starry sky as witness…at least as far as I know.
This scenario is G-rated. After all, I was a goody-two-shoes…a recipient of the American Legion Good Citizenship Award! Clothes remained on, but we kissed like there was no tomorrow. The thick, short Bermuda grass made for a soft pallet and we owned it.
Why do I still remember this? Well, first of all, I am female and tend to remember details… special moments. But there was something magical about the night, making perfect use of the putting green, Ralph carefree and romantic in an environment he knew very well…the golf course and me. I guess you could say we were “tigers in the grass.”
Nita Risher McGlawn
Nita is a freelance writer and visual artist living in Katy, TX. She likes to write about life in the South. Born in Mobile, Alabama, she moved at the tender age of 3 to a paper mill town in South Arkansas. In that small town, she grew up…mostly with Razorback fans. She took refuge at the University of Alabama as soon as possible, but still loves to chew the fat with her Arkansas friends and in turn, they love to heckle the elephant in the room. The town newspaper in Camden, Arkansas featured resident, Al Rose. He would reminisce about life in Camden and would always end his piece with the phrase, “memories that bless and burn.” She likes to borrow that phrase from time to time, because reflections are indeed a double-edged sword.Visit www.nitamcglawn.com to view some of Nita’s original artwork.