The Swamp Finds A Way

Digging for Memories

SWAMP SONG (Instrumental)

- Oasis

Waiting patiently to stay home all day.

Car tires on a clamshell drive. Up to the bar form the apartment below.

Out for our first nine. Friends. Sodas. Cards. Hot dogs. The works.

We would spend all day and often times all night at “The Club” - the Cotuit Highground Country Club.

Country Club because the sign said so, but this par-3 working class track did not fit the cliche of a Cape Cod style country club.

This was the place for the locals to stop on the way home after serving who you think about when you think about Cape Cod.

In the 90’s - a safe haven for kids to be dropped off and picked up without any communication in between before that became unthinkable.

In the 90’s - place to fill our time with our own imagination and creativity before that became unthinkable.

Another round. Pickle. Putting contest.

You can only play so many rounds of golf on a 9-hole course, only play so many hands of 45’s (look it up) before a fight broke out.

The 5th hole is a nearly blind shot over a wooded “swamp”, the 4th hole passes the clubhouse bar (refill time) - so naturally there was a treasure trove of bad golf balls to be had. We would do our best to avoid the wet spots.

The swamp finds a way.

Full leg submersion later, you’d come out with a Balata, a story, and a need for a new pair of pants.

Car tires on a clamshell drive. Mom here to pick her kid up. He’s on the hole furthest from the clubhouse. Lost track of time.

He’s wearing someone else’s shorts. He came in pants since thrown away.

He’s beaming as he walks up to the car. He sold 10 golf balls he found in the swamp for 10 bucks. Deal of lifetime.