LETTERS FROM HOME: TIME FLIES WHEN YOU'RE DEFINING MOMENTS

Oct. 3, 1996

Dear Melina,

DC and I just completed a stay-at-home vacation. The idea was to polish off our half-finished projects: a book I've promised to edit, an upcoming play waiting to be read, storm windows to be put up in the back bedroom, the dining room needs wallpapering, a long-neglected stack of letters begs to be answered, Hank and Lucy require remedial obedience training, and the guest bedroom's become a darkening jungle of papers, books and clothes each of us hopes the other will give the heave-ho to.

The grand total of accomplishments? One stripped and stained front door, entirely DC's handiwork. Her excuse to buy a fancy sander.

I read some more of the book manuscript and started the play, thought about how difficult it will be to put up the storm windows, bought the wallpaper, wrote this letter, gave Hank and Lucy massages meant to demonstrate my dominance, and shut the door to the guest bedroom.

Where does the time go?

Amazing how much friends are able to accomplish. C.C. Fish, the shamanic writer-artist, just sent her new catalogue. A book on manifesting your life partner, decks of cards that can be used "for divination and inspiration," for integrating dreams into your daily life and for seeking guidance into life's quests, a calendar for manifesting abundance, refrigerator magnets, a fall schedule of crafts fair appearances and offers to give readings in person or by phone. She'll be on the Internet soon.

C.C. scrambles to make a living but does. Sometimes I get sidetracked, go round and round the same bend. How do I know this? The movie "Tin Cup" told me so.

"Tin Cup" is the tale of an unknown driving range pro named Roy MacAvoy who blows the U.S. Open by trying to hit a one-in-a-million shot over water to the green on the 18th hole. He could have played it smart, laid up on his second shot, hit a wedge into the green, had at least a chance for a birdie to win and an almost sure-thing par to force a playoff.

But Roy has something to prove. Never mind that the day before he shot the lowest round in Open history. Though he's missed this shot the three previous rounds, he knows he can make it. And he defines himself as the kind of guy who always "goes for it," whether it's the U.S. Open, a hunch on a greyhound or a crush on a stripper.

As Popeye says, "I yam what I yam."

The usual Hollywood ending would have had Roy making the shot, being true to himself against all odds. In the less-bogus ending chosen by the filmmakers, Roy remains true to himself while hardheadedly missing the shot five times. He finally holes out from 240 yards. That's what he calls a "defining moment."

The stupefied crowd cheers and his girlfriend-psychologist declares he's achieved immortality by making the best 12 anybody ever made.

So THAT'S immortality.

Even though the movie was funny and even occasionally charming, the ending rankled. I couldn't figure out why for awhile but had a feeling it was because Roy, who'd muffed many previous opportunities in his life in much the same fashion, was confusing being true to yourself with a refusal to learn from life.

As always, the things that bother you most in other people are the very things you deny and unconsciously dislike in yourself. I have been Roy MacAvoy, going for the impossible shot on the golf course when something within the realm of possibility is called for, yearning for some unknown when the knowable is within grasp.

The book to be edited is here before me, the windows ready to make us warm and secure for the winter. The woman to be loved, and in each moment life to be created.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.