Me and Homer Jones and Big John Talley had just gotten into one of our in-depth discussions about health care, oil spills, land rezoning, Muckleshoot ownership of the Salish, and the new price of a pack of cigarettes — you know, all that important stuff that we as good community members really care about.

Then up popped Big John and said, “Say, have you heard the seniors golf tournament is going to be held up at Sahalee Golf Course the end of July?”

“So?” I said, not really caring a whit one way or another.

Big John continued, “Well, you know all those great golfers of yesteryear will be there and be playing. You know the old guys, Nick Faldo, Hale Irwin, Tom Kite, and that local guy, Fred Couples.”

I had to add my two cents worth, “Well, if they are so old, didn’t Ol’ Fred Couples just about win the Masters a month or so ago?”

“So,” said John, “Wouldn’t it be fun to brush up on our game and enter the amateur part of it? We’d get to see some of the real greats.”

“Look” I replied, “I never even tried the front nine, back nine or any of that, just usually ended up on the nineteenth hole. You know, the one where they serve the drinks.”

Big John just kept on. “I think we should get up there and do some practicing and see what we can do. After all, it couldn’t be much worse than some of the stuff you’ve had us doing, Bob.”

We kicked the idea around and decided to give it a try and see what we could do. I had to go down to the Mount Si Senior Center Thrift Store and pick up a few clubs and a bag to tote them around in. They didn’t match too well, but for that matter, none of us matched too well, either.

The first time we went out, the weather was typical April. It alternated hailing, windy, and bright sunshine on about an equal number of holes at various times through our rounds. I went through a dozen balls and perfected the technique of kicking them from the rough to the second cut almost so no one could see me doing it. It was such a long walk around the first nine holes that we decided to rent a motorized cart to get around in. We cut some wheelies and some figure eights and finally got the thing going in the right direction. To be honest, that first time we didn’t do too good. I had a 143 (after some creative score keeping, it came out to a respectable 88.) Big John was about the same, and poor ol’ Homer Jones, well, he just lost count and took to trying to pick off a duck or goose on the course (He didn’t do too well at that, either).

Sitting around the bar after, we decided to give it a few more tries. We went at it for two more weeks without very good results. I had gone through about 45 balls, so I decided to give it up and took my mismatched clubs and bag back to the senior center, and Big John and Homer Jones just put theirs back in the dusty corners of their attics. We mutually decided that by the time we got good enough to qualify for the Seniors Tournament as amateurs, we’d all be too old to swing a club.

But we did enjoy sitting at the nineteenth hole and hoisting a few. And we are sure looking forward to seeing all those old “good” golfers, no matter how old they are, compete here in our back yard. Kind of gives you a new appreciation of the word “pro.”

• Bob Edwards lives in North Bend and is a member of the Sno Valley Writes! writer’s group.