Reconnecting to my home turf for family, friends, and fun

I stood there looking at the wild contours of the putting course, mouth hanging open. My sons strolled up to my side and the only words I could muster were, “I can’t believe they did it.” On that first day at the new Evans at Canal Shores, we played and explored, reconnecting to what I consider sacred ground, and each other.

It’s difficult to describe the experience of walking such familiar fairways that concurrently felt brand new. The course I left behind when I went away is gone, but my history with it left an imprint in my consciousness. I took in the visual feast—the view of Lake Michigan, a coyote trotting by, cross-course vistas, the bold and beautiful greens—while reaching into the mental archives for my dusty golf shot instruction manual. It was like floating along through a dream, alternating expressions of bewilderment and ear-to-ear grin on my face.

Family golf on Sunday mornings has become a spiritual practice, and we rope friends into filling out our four- and fivesomes. Each round brings forth a flood of memories that exist alongside the new ones I’m joyfully making.

Pat Goss and I were standing in the parking lot after conducting a tour. We shared a vision for the potential of our community course, but we also left open the possibility that we might be nuts. To test our perspective and sanity, we invited Rand Jerris, a senior executive with the USGA, to come take a walk. The U.S. Amateur was in town at Olympia Fields, which we hoped would make it easier on Rand’s busy schedule. We made our way around the course and it was clear that Rand got it, but we were taken aback by his parting thoughts.

We asked if he was driving down to the tournament, and he replied, “No, I’m heading to the airport. I didn’t come for the Amateur. I came for this.” He went on to explain that the USGA was partnering with the American Society of Golf Course Architects on a new planning grant initiative. He thought that Canal Shores would be a perfect candidate and hoped that we would apply. As he drove away, Pat and I looked at each other in mild shock, with strong belief that we were onto something special.

That day with Rand was one of countless impactful moments that every dedicated volunteer to the cause of renovating Canal Shores shared while pouring blood, sweat, and tears into the ground. The journey, which I attempted to document in my writing and social media posts, was arduous and frustrating at times, but I couldn’t let it go. Rand’s enthusiastic recognition of what was possible stuck with me and wouldn’t allow it.

Higher authorities ultimately intervened and forced me to walk away. I pushed the project along as far as I could with my comrades and had no choice but to leave the vision in the hands of others to follow through. Hope was alive but took a back seat. I had a new challenge to face.

While I was gone, not only did the Canal Shores community brilliantly complete what I helped to start, but they bridged the gap home from the foreign territory in which I found myself. I was not physically present for the final transformation, but they kept me connected. Todd Quitno showed me his master plan. Patrick Hughes sent construction photos. Matt Rooney, Josh Lesnik, and other key players wrote and emailed updates. Stories were told in the Thomson camp visiting room. The effort of loved ones made a bigger difference than they will ever know.

No initiative of this magnitude that encompasses such a variety of interests unfolds perfectly smoothly. The work leaves marks on the workers. My unique vantage point allows me to assess the results without the resonant sting of the freshest battle scars incurred by those involved. My verdict: By any objective measure—the translation of concepts into physical creation, the sustainability of our community resource, and greatest of all, the positive impact on the lives of people—they produced a smashing success. I’m in awe of their accomplishment. What used to be a lovable novelty is now one of the coolest golf experiences in America.

Each round I play is a discovery of details and design flourishes. Each shot I hit elicits appreciation of the conditioning and presentation delivered by our superintendent Neil and his crew. The smiling faces around confirm that the vibe I’m feeling is mutual.

My time away from home and Canal Shores changed my perspective on and priorities in the game. I still cherish our playing fields, but when my golf buddies ask me where I want to play next, instead of picking from a bucket list, my response is now, “Wherever I can spend time with you.” It’s my people who I crave far more than a checkmark.

The Evans at Canal Shores no longer needs my particular brand of nuttiness. It’s in very capable hands and I’m content to be retired. In his book A Course Called Home, Tom Coyne put words to how I feel as I spend Sundays with my sons and golf buddies:

“It’s a strange sensation to watch your thing become someone else’s, to do your best with a notion, then hand it over to the world. And when you see the world enjoying it, you feel something other than happiness. Not a feeling of being right—right or wrong seems unimportant. It’s more like a connection. Your idea of what a good thing might be matches up with someone else’s, and in that junction is something powerful. It’s looking around and recognizing a part of yourself in everyone you see, and that feeling makes an otherwise complicated world make sense.”