We just got home from a weekend at the lake, and are preparing for another work week. It’s hard leaving the lake–life’s so peaceful and easy there. Our comfort level increases each time we go up as we settle in and get to know our neighbors. We haven’t succumbed to getting a golf cart yet, but most all the folks in the park have one. Some are plain, some are painted bright red or have fancy additions like extra seats in the back or fun logos on the front.
Yesterday, as I was cleaning the house, getting ready for guests who were going to spend Saturday evening and Sunday with us, several neighbors dropped by–one after the other. Just buzzing by on their golf carts to say howdy and check out what we’ve added to the cottage. Our fixing-up process is big news in the park and this weekend, it was the new dining room table and rug.
A quick buzz-by sorta becomes an event as someone else comes along and then another. Somehow we all ended up sitting around on golf carts behind the cottage next to ours, chatting, drinking beer, watching our neighbor prepare a space for a new minibarn. Now, on the surface, that doesn’t sound all that thrilling, but every time this has happened since we bought the place, it’s been the highlight of the weekend, an opportunity to get to know our new community better. I’m getting a giant kick out of three or four golf carts gathered together with folks laughing and chatting.
One of our new friends, who was gently teasing me about our reluctance to get a cart explained it this way:
The golf carts aren’t about being lazy or about not wanting to walk, they’re more like portable lawn chairs. We fly by each other’s cottages and stop for a chat, someone else comes along, sits on the edge of the cart, like you are now, and joins the conversation. Pretty soon, we’re all involved in whatever’s happening–offering a hand, giving advice, lending a tool…golf carts are part of our culture here. Trust me, you’ll have one by the end of next summer…”
I wouldn’t be a bit surprised…