Uncle Buster

All too often, golf gets dismissed as a stuffy game for big-wigs in suits. That characterization has always bothered me—sure, that scene is a part of the sport, but it’s worlds away from what I’ve witnessed on most fairways. Touring dozens of courses this past year, I met wrestling coaches and ex-Marines, tattooed women and disco dudes, each of whom had a story to share. Way more often than slick politicians on the green, I see humble, kooky characters like this man, whom I’ve found myself fondly calling “Uncle Buster.”

In decades past, we dressed up for everything: flying on a plane, going out to dinner, and especially playing golf. But here’s our guy Uncle Buster, grinning away in an undershirt and dress pants. I assume he’s in his own yard, mid-summer, perhaps unwinding after a long day’s work. Uncle Buster’s clubs look new, in a nice leather bag…maybe a birthday present? Who’s behind the camera, making him smile so big? Maybe his wife, who saved up to surprise him? Or could it be his beloved niece Rooney back from Issue #1?

Golf is a constant challenge to improve—to win a little money or finally beat that unbeatable friend. Sometimes it’s a solo venture. Others, it’s a party. Whether with your favorite crew or a crowd of strangers, it is always an adventure.

Our beloved Shenandoah Valley is full of these adventures. The rolling hills and mountains. The hidden-gem restaurants and towns. At one time or another, we are all Uncle Buster, proud of our new clubs and beaming as we show them off to someone we love. I find myself feeling that way right now, revisiting these pages and finally sharing them with y’all. It’s been a long year’s work, but now, as we bid farewell to BoBirdie Issue #2, I once again thank you for joining us—we couldn’t do it without you. So, stick around, friends. We’ve got big, bodacious plans in store.

Sincerely,

Jefferson Burgess

Editor-in-Chief