​Last week in this column we discussed our over-reliance on technology. Later in the week, I played golf about a 25-minute drive from our house. I love the course, very scenic, quiet, surrounded by various types of pine trees.
 
Twenty-five minutes is not long. I don’t use technology like GPS or Waze to get there because I’ve been driving to the course for so long. I find it in my sleep. I find it through muscle memory -- the old fashioned way.

Despite this, I found myself last week wanting to explore a new path. I use the word “explore” purposefully. Words matter.
 
I’d finished playing early, walking by myself. The rest of the day beckoned with nothing on the calendar. I’d said to myself (and my wife) several times that I was going to launch down a country road returning from the course one day. That day came.
 
Why do this? Why meander and see where you end up? Because you can. It’s an explorative journey.
 
Once you leave the course, the main road curves north and east. The side road, unlined, farms on both sides, looked like it headed due east. Apparently a more direct route to our home, but who knew? It was an untested road.
 
I’d played a solid round and felt good. If I got lost, I had to keep trying new roads heading east, then south, and sooner or later I’d come into recognizable terrain and recalibrate to return (“recalculating” as the directions app would state to you).
 
The speed limit slowed. I hit a stop sign. Then another. The road began to curve into some woods. Then it slowed further, to 25 mph for a sharp turn. The car headed up a hill. A neighborhood appeared on the right in the middle of nowhere.
 
Everything was okay. Generally speaking, the car continued in the right direction.
 
An elderly couple was out walking, and I gave them a wide berth and waved. They waved back. I smiled. The car was warm, and the outside air cold. I started getting drowsy, ready for the spectacular afternoon nap. First, I had to navigate back.
 
Very quickly, the shortcut came to an end. WTH? On the left was a tiny motel you see on the main road to the course. There’s no way I could come out here! Yes, there was.
 
Somehow, my exploratory meandering afternoon turned into a radical shortcut that saved seven minutes on the 25-minute drive. Astounding!
 
The shortcut had been found because I’d wanted to do the opposite and get lost and just drive around and figure out some way to get home over the back roads. So weird, so strange.
 
The experience was relaxing. It was enjoyable. It was just shorter than expected.
 
Leaving technology behind is a good thing for many reasons, particularly to get you back in touch with your sense of direction. You’re tested. You must navigate, not the app or software program.
 
I got home way sooner than expected, but that was good, too. My nap beckoned. I slept well.

​A little less than two months ago my golf watch quit on me. I should have seen it coming.
 
The previous three times I’d played with it, the battery died during the round. I kept thinking I hadn’t charged the battery enough to last 18 holes, but finally figured out it was on its last legs and it was time to get a new one.
 
Losing the golf watch advantages taught me a few things about our reliance on technology. Most of you who read my stuff regularly recognize that for the most part I’m a “late adaptor” of tech, not an “early adopter.” I use those two words on purpose. Slowly, I adapt. Those who are into technology adopt it quickly. There’s a difference.

Being old school, it was important for me to judge my yardage on my own when playing golf. You learn a lot by doing this – figuring out distances, needing to understand an elevation rise or drop, adding the wind into the mix to predict what the yardage to the pin “really” is, rather than just what the number says.
 
When the watch showed up (with an invite from me) to Christmas 6-7 years ago, it was welcome. I wanted it. I’d seen someone else using the watch and wanted one, knowing it would improve my game and that I could easily figure out all the buttons. It gives yardage to the pin, to the front of the green and the back of the green. It identifies the distance to hazards and what it takes to hit your ball over the hazards. That was pretty much all I needed.
 
Once past the first round or two with the golf watch, it embedded itself in my mindset. I looked at it before every shot. When playing with a friend, they would ask me for the distance, and I would proudly give them the EXACT distance to the pin. It was f….cking AWESOME!
 
I stopped judging distances. I didn’t have to. I was “told” with technology that was next to perfect.
 
As the watch wore out and I had to play several half-rounds without it, then finally when it dropped dead on the first hole, and I had to play an entire round without it, I realized how technology dependent I’d become. I had to judge distance again, find markers in the fairway that gave me rough estimates and then walk it off to my ball and figure out any yardage differences to reach a reasonable judgment on what club to select, how hard and far to hit the ball to reach the intended destination.

I was often slightly off by 10-20 yards. That speaks to a skill set I lost while wearing the watch, but also speaks to our judgments in anything we try to estimate, even if we have a lot of skill and experience in the activity. We can make our best decision, but it’s not always a reasonably informed one.
 
The watch dying made me think of a coworker who was addicted to the Waze app, which locks you into your intended destination while driving, identifying time, best routes, where police are watching, traffic slowdowns, accidents. He’s a much younger guy than me, and never tries to figure out where he’s going on his own. He left the parking lot one morning to go to a site we’d been to the previous day, and asked me as we exited, “Which way do I turn?” I couldn’t stop laughing.

Then the golf watch dies, and I fall into that technology-dependent category. My golf game suffers. I wholeheartedly believe the watch saves me 3-4 strokes for a round, which is darn helpful for those of you who are un-golf-initiated. I need a new one, but embrace my current suffering and weakened level of play. I’m sharper on the yardages, slowly redeveloping my skills. But, I’ve put it on Santa’s list for a replacement.
 
Hurry up, Christmas.

​Over the past 18 months or so, I’ve rediscovered the joys of our local library. It didn’t come and find me, but I went and reacquainted myself.

It’s odd how a relationship with the library can go south. You just forget it’s there. Your work gets busy. You do other things with your spare time rather than read. You focus on buying books rather than taking some out and returning them so others can enjoy.
 
All of those  apply to me. Foremost though was just plain forgetting the library was there as a resource.  And, I’m not really sure what drove me to reenter its doors with regularity.
 
A number of years back, my younger brother extolled the virtues of getting movies and audio books from the library. At the time, I picked up on his energy and took out several audio books to keep me occupied while driving long distances in my job. But, there wasn’t much that kept my interest in terms of plots in novels or subject matter for non-fiction books.
 
I waned in terms of visiting the library. I read a reasonable amount, but would buy those books, as I’ve long been a proponent in financially supporting the work of authors. If we don’t buy books by writers, it is harder for writers to support themselves. It’s that simple. I believe it is tremendously important to support writers, so I purchased them.
 
The changing point, as best I can put my finger on it, has been having more free time as my work world shrank the past 18 months or so. My career moved away from a path from full-time employment. That freed up more time to read. I’ve taken that opportunity to dig deeper into new genres and read more intently when I sit down and with greater frequency.
 
That could add up dollar-wise, if I continued to buy books. That led to great library usage, and slowly the vibe insinuated itself into my routine.
 
There’s something unique, quieting and contemplative entering the doors of the library. It’s always been a “thinking” place for me, whether that was in grade school or college. You are “supposed” to do work there – research, write, take notes, etc. – so you silently go about your business. Of course, someone could easily make you start giggling with fourth grade inanities, but you knew you were supposed to be doing schoolwork, so mostly that’s what you did.
 
Rediscovering the library visit this past year has reignited some of those long-ago memories and invigorated my reading list. Talking with the librarians, perusing the aisles, spending time at their special book displays all led me down new paths regarding the types of literature or non-fiction to check into next.
 
You find an author and may read three of her books in a row. You discover the mystery genre and it sticks with you as you shift from one recommended writer to another. You talk to someone who has a recommendation and follow that up to find a new world of interest.
 
Library nostalgia ignites library passion. You think back, remember, and start regularly visiting again. Your mind expands, you think new things, you find yourself contemplating subjects, ideas, thoughts, concepts, plots and characters you hadn’t considered. You feel good entering the door and know you’ve returned home.