Turn the Page. Every time I hear that phrase my mind instantly begins to replay any of several moments from my childhood. They all look like this: I'm sitting on the floor of my room, semi-lotus position, with a tape player and a book in front of me. The book and the tape go together, of course, and are designed to help a kid learn to read while listening to a cool story with background music, sound effects, etc. To help the listener/reader-in-training know when to turn the page, an unobtrusive "ding" sounds. Ultimately, conditioning results in the desired Pavlovian response, and the child doesn't even notice the "ding" at all; he just dutifully turns pages and wipes the saliva from the corner of his mouth.

I heard a "ding" in my life this afternoon. It was my final official day of being a golf coach. There are still award ceremonies to be attended and post season parties to throw, but my duties on the course are over; more than likely for good. The season ended today, and because of other obligations, I've already informed the athletic director that I wouldn't be coaching next year. I guess there's the outside possibility that I may coach again in the future, but "knowing how way leads on to way" it doesn't seem likely (thanks Mr. Frost).

I'll still play golf when I can, and teaching will be easier now with so much extra time. But, man, am I going to miss coaching. It just won't seem like spring without it.

"Ding...turn the page..."
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