April 22, 1992

I am golfing with men. Wayne is there and Dan, someone I work
with. It's my shot and I start. I putt. It's the first hole
and it's very short. Wayne putts next. He shoots the opposite
way and I am mortified. I ask then why they didn't tell me in
what direction to shoot. Everyone says it's O.K., that it
doesn't matter what direction you shoot. In fact, no one laughed
when I shot; no one thought it was strange. For my next shot
though, and becuse I am still mortified, Wayne-Gilles (a
combination of both men) gives me a tip. there is an instrument
I can use to better my shot. It is a metal plate which I lay on
the ground and from which i tee off. However, the metal plate
looks like a spade and Wayne shows me how I have to attach it to
a handle. He holds the handle and I turn the spade which then
becomes a round metal object. It is hard work. I turn and
turnand ask if it's alright and he says it has to be very tight.
The tighter it is, the more chance it will help with my shot. So
he helps me. At first, we turn it together and then, I hold the
handle and he turns it as it has become too hard for me to trun.
It is difficult even for him. I feel confident this will help my
game and my work. I leave the grounds at one point, alittle
discouraged as I think of the hole in by backdoor screen, my
dusty lamps at home, all the housework there is to do, and my
career ambitions. It all seems so incompatible. I get to the
lobby of the French cultural centre and two Indian women are
there. They could be South American or Native. In any case, as
I enter the entrance to the lobby, they are waiting for me and
tell me: "We will help you put your house in order."


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