An Open Letter to the PGA Tour

Dear PGA Tour,

I don’t mind that Augusta National is a men’s club. I don’t mind that the CEO of IBM was not offered membership to Augusta because she’s a woman.

I’m a woman and I’m told I’m supposed to mind. I’m the mother of a daughter and I’m told I’m supposed to mind. Jesus would mind, according to Maureen Dowd. But I don’t.

It’s just sports sponsorship. It doesn’t affect the quality of public education or any aspect of U.S. global military intervention. It doesn't really matter.

Playing Passive Defense

Other people don't seem to mind, either. So far both Augusta National and IBM have been mute on the subject of Mrs. Rometty’s membership (or lack thereof).

But the real creep has yet to speak up.

This is not IBM’s problem. It’s not Augusta’s problem. It’s not a woman problem.

This is the PGA’s problem.

Don't Bother Toweling Off

“Work the kid into your life, don’t change your life to be the kid’s,” said my friend Tom between laps at Westside Aquatic Center. It was 2008, I was very pregnant, and struggling to keep any kind of pace beyond simple flotation.

Not knowing any better, I took Tom seriously.

I’m what is referred to, politely, as a non-traditional mom. I take HB to a big girl lunch every Saturday; on St. Patty’s Day we actually bar hopped. She has her own season ticket for Clemson football. She sings Lady Gaga. She’s three and four on her birthday so she has three tutus, four pairs of sparkly shoes, and two princess dresses, all of which I allow her to wear to school whenever she wants.