This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all of my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

Why, whenever I am in La Quinta, California, do my thoughts go to golf in Scotland?

Who knows?

Scotland and La Quinta – the latter in the California desert – could not be more different.

But there might be a couple reasons why golf in Scotland arrives top of mind for me.

First, as I noted, the two places are so different that, when you are one place, you often think of the other. 

Courses in Scotland often are  “links courses,” a phrase that refers to land that sits near the sea, so, for one thing, there often are not many trees on links courses.  And you often play the golf ball closer to the ground so it runs over humps and bumps of hard turf.

Golf is so different on links courses that it took pro golfer Phil Mickelson several years to learn how to play on such courses.  And, then in The Open, where I and my family had the privilege to be on hand, he won the tournament on one of the acknowledged best courses in the world, Muirfield.

[By the way, “The Open” is how Scot and others in Europe refer to the British Open.  If you use the latter term, those over the pond will know you are from the wrong side of the pond.]

A second reason why Scottish golf comes to mind is that I have found playing there to be great fun.  I have had the privilege of traveling to Scotland five times with my wife Nancy, whose parents both emigrated from Scotland to America.  So, by extension, Scotland is a homeland of sorts for us.

On a number of occasions, I have enjoyed playing with Scotsman who love golf and play as much as they can, rain or shine.  My kind of people.

As my thoughts focus on Scotland, I often recall reading a great book, A Season in Dornoch, by golf writer Lorne Rubenstein. 

The book chronicles the time about 20 years ago when he and his wife traveled to Scotland in the far north of the country.  They booked a flat above a bookstore in the small town of Dornoch and stayed for four months.

Not only did Lorne play golf, he and his wife also made it a point to meet Scots who lived in and around that small town.  His book summarizes the greatness of golf at the major course in Dornoch, Royal Dornoch, as well as the great times he and his wife spent with the Scots, learning their lifestyles and hearing homespun tales in “the home of golf.”

Motivated by reading Rubenstein’s book, I have had the privilege of playing Royal Dornoch three times and, later this winter, my wife and I are planning our own sojourn in Dornoch. 

If the pandemic eases enough, we will spend a month in Dornoch at an AirBNB we have rented while I join a course called Struie, which abuts Royal Dornoch.  The Struie membership will allow me to play Royal Dornoch at least four times during the month, as well as play at several other courses in the region.

All of these fond memories came flooding back to me as I began reading another book about Scottish golf, Playing Through, written by Curtis Gillespie.  An interesting link – pardon the play on words – is that, in the book, Gillespie describes several golf games he had played in Scotland with none other than Lorne Rubenstein.

Here is a great quote from Gillespie’s book that captures the essence of golf in Scotland:

“It’s best, most satisfying, if you say the words out loud.  Gullane.  Dirleton.  Muirfield.  Luffness.  Archerfield.  Musselburgh.  Kilspindie.  Longniddry.  I love speaking these names, hearing their sounds.  Even looking at the words on a map has always brought a smile to my lips.

“For a long time, these words had been signifiers in my mind of something both real and fantastic, indicators of both past experience and future enjoyment.

“The memories raised were shot through with images of hole after hole of subtle, perfect links golf, though these memories were always just a bit hazy, involving as they did a sense of awe toward the natural splendor of this hidden stretch of coastline.”

As Curtis Gillespie played golf in Scotland, he came in contact with a person we also met on one of our trips there, a short, stocky man named Archie Baird, now no doubt deceased.  On our first trip to Scotland, we met Archje in the town of Aberlady, where he lived a few miles from Muirfield.  He gave us a personal tour of a golf museum he operates in the town.

Very fond memories of golf in Scotland.  Here in La Quinta, I play on a “parkland course,” which is great fun, as well, though as different from Scottish courses as it could be.

If you live full-time in La Quinta, a term of endearment is to call you a “desert rat.”  So, just call me a “desert rat Scotsman.”