One Swan A-Swimming

Special to FreeRepublic ^ | 21 November 2008 | John Armor (Congressman Billybob)

[Congressman Billybob]

Three miles south of Highlands, North Carolina, the road to Dillard, Georgia, goes through a golf course. It is not just any golf course. It is the one that the great Bobby Jones designed just before he created his masterpiece at Augusta.

Jones had a personal stake in the Highlands Country Club course. He built his retirement home straight across the crescent-shaped lake which surrounds the 18th green, from the flag. Like the rest of the course, the 18th is a demanding hole, a chip across the lake to a teacup of a green that slopes away to all sides so approach shots that are only slightly off, “get wet” as the golfers say.

The whole course is demanding. There is water on 14 of its 18 holes. And in the summer when the rhododendrons are in bloom and dropping their large, white petals, it is a fruitless enterprise even to attempt to find a ball that has strayed from the fairway.

But this story is not about the golf course. It is about the swans that lived on that lake for at least ten years. The perfect picture, which I have preserved only in my mind, not on film, is at the close of the day. The dying sun turns the perfect grass into a glowing, emerald green. It white-washes the wooden front of Jones’ former home. And if the timing is just right, it catches the two swans swimming in tandem, across a lake as still as glass, behind the green and in front of Jones’ house.

Swans are one of the rarities in the animal kingdom. They mate for life, as did these two. Unlike other birds, where the male is bright and showy and the female dull and camouflaged, the hen and the drake among swans are seemingly identical. I’m sure they knew the difference, but to my untrained eye they were the same,

It was a cob and a pen for sure, because about three years ago they had a clutch of cygnets, who swam with them as they grew that summer. Then in the fall, the children were gone.

On the water, up on the grass, near or in the swan house that was their shelter beyond the low stone bridge across a neck in the lake – anywhere in their small world – the swans were usually together as a pair.

Then, two weeks ago as we drove through the golf course every day on the way to town for the mail, we saw only one swan. For five days, we saw just one. So we stopped at the Club’s security office next to the lake, and asked whether anything had happened to the other swan.

It had. One swan had gotten sick and died, of botulism the guard guessed, from something eaten from the bottom of the shallow lake. So, now there is just one swan, a lonely gentleman whose lady has died. Because we cannot tell who died, and who is left behind, I’m sure my lady love would write that the gentleman died, and the lady swan lives on.

When couples are mated for life and one dies, often the other dies soon after, having little reason to go on. It is children, grandchildren, friends, professions and avocations which keep the survivors in such families continuing on. So, how is it with this one swan?

He has no descendants, no friends, no pastimes. He does have his memories of his mate. He must have that, or else how could swans mate for life?

Now, he spends very little time in the water. Most times, he is up on the grassy hillside below the tee of the 18th hole. Does he stay out of the water because he remembers the hours without number when he swam there with her? Does he stay on that hillside perhaps because that is where she died?

There are few things more elegant, evocative and inspiring, than two swans swimming on a still lake, almost always within touching distance of each other.

For the reverse of all the same reasons, there are few things sadder than one swan a-swimming, on a glassy lake, on a golf course, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.

- 30 -

About the Author: John Armor practiced law in the Supreme Court for 33 years. He now lives with his lady love on a mountain in the Blue Ridge of North Carolina. John_Armor@aya.yale.edu

- 30 -

[Congressman Billybob]

My friend and client, Gene McCarthy, once said to me, “Politics is like football. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think its important.” He was right. There are some things more important than politics.

So, this week I wrote about a more important subject.

John / Billybob

Post Script to Admin: Move this to Chat, if you choose.

[G.Mason]

I toast (or rather will later this evening) to the swans, and to you for the post Congressman.

Well done.

[null and void]

So, this week I wrote about a more important subject.

And wrote well, I might add.

[Edgar3]

Beautifully said, my FRiend. Poignant indeed.

[HighlyOpinionated]

Sniff.

Similar story here at the Erickson Retirement Community where my parents live.

Thank you for writing their story, too.

[bcsco]

John, we have a friend, fellow-church-member, and neighbor who lost her husband this summer. He was my sponsor in Kiwanis Golden K and a good friend.

We sometimes see what you write of in her, yet life goes on and my wife is taking her to the airport on Monday to spend the holidays with a son far away in a warmer clime. She has a one-way ticket so don’t know when she’ll return. Since she’s been asked to move there, she may not return. That well may be her answer to what befell her.

For all, life goes on. But for some the question arises; Is it worth it? Perhaps this is what the swan feels. Perhaps not. But as you so elegantly write, there’s something missing in life when one swan passes...

Thanks for the beautiful words.

[EggsAckley]

bttt

[CholeraJoe]

In swans, the male is called the cob and the female is called the pen, not hen and drake as in ducks. Also the young are cygnets not signets. Otherwise great article.

[HomeschoolMomma]

Lovely story! I so miss NC - I lived there for 8 years. Atlanta just does not compare.

Your story reminded me of “Swan Lake” - which has to be one of the most beautiful ballets ever! I took my daughter to see it for the first time last week (and ooh how I hate sad endings! - sniff!)

While you are toasting the swan - put on a little Tchaikovsky, enjoy the beautiful Carolina Blue Sky along with the breathtaking mountains - and know that the swans spirt will always be with it’s mate!

[LucyT]

Lovely article, Congressman BillyBob. Kinda wish I hadn’t read it.

[PhilDragoo]

From campaign cacaphony which would not end, to your crystalline observation, life distilled.

[potlatch]

{Life distilled}

And concentrated into the shape of a heart.

Lovely post Billy Bob.

[devolve]

.

Nice post potlatch -

[potlatch]

Thanks devolve.

[Lancey Howard]

Nice piece of writing! Kudos.
That was very enjoyable.

[JDoutrider]

Bump to a good read... Thanks

[lonevoice]

Very well done, thanks for sharing it.

[dixiechick2000]

What a beautiful, poignant story.
Thank you for posting.

Thanks for the ping, Phil.

"The whole course is demanding. There is water on 14 of its 18 holes. And in the summer when the rhododendrons are in bloom and dropping their large, white petals, it is a fruitless enterprise even to attempt to find a ball that has strayed from the fairway."

It sounds like Bobby Jones hated amateur golfers. ;o)

[B4Ranch]

Bump