Horsehoes to Cornhole

I just got back from a family picnic in Cleveland. We were celebrating my uncle's 75^th birthday. I always enjoy these big family picnics/gatherings. We usually only have two a year – a Christmas party and a Summer picnic.

The Christmas party and Summer picnic are special for different reasons. The Christmas party seems more intimate because everybody is huddled inside the house – it gets cold by the lake in December. There are only so many places to go in a house; so, everybody spends some time talking to each other. The Summer picnic is outside and therefore more spread out. I do not get to spend as much time with each cousin. It is still a lot of fun because we are enjoying the fresh air, sitting at a picnic table talking, and drinking ice-cold beer.

Today was especially fun. It reminded me of some of the picnics we had before I had children. Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I love my children with all my heart and would NOT trade them for the world. With children, comes great responsibility.

At past picnics in the recent, my wife and I have had to keep a close eye the little ones. Now my girls are at an age where they can go and play with some of their older cousins without my wife and me having to worry. The older kids keep the younger kids occupied. That leaves just Coilin on whom we have to keep an eagle eye. Today, was a special treat. My wife, Shannon, graciously agreed to watch my son while I played Cornhole with my cousins, and this is what reminded of those picnics from years ago.

My cousin's husband, who is about 15 years older than me, loves to throw horseshoes, and he had a beautiful Horseshoe court at his house. (Yes, a Horseshoe court can be beautiful.) They only had the picnic a couple of times, but I remember the first time I played Horshoes there.

I think I was a teenager, around 15ish, the first time I played with the “adults.” I remember him showing me how to pitch (throw) a shoe properly and how points were scored. It was exhilarating the first time I got a ringer. A ringer makes a beautifully distinct TING! sound, and when you land one you feel like you are top of the world. Alas, no matter how well I threw, which was not great, I was never able to beat my cousin's husband.

Today, some 20 years later, I felt that same exhilaration; but, this time it was with Cornhole This was the first time I had played an official game. It is only fitting that I played against the same man who taught me how to play Horseshoes. Like that first time I played horseshoes with him all those years ago, he gave me some pointers on how to the more effectively throw the corn bags. He told me to stand up straight and to have more arc in my toss. I had been throwing more parallel to the ground. His tutelage helped again.

Before his advice, I was not getting any points. Afterwards, I still was not great, but I was much better, and I had thrown several bags in the hole. Getting a bag in the hole, for me, was a totally different feeling than getting a ringer in Horseshoes. Instead of the TING! of Horseshoe hitting the post, you get a dull thud followed by a short slide and then silence as your bag disappears down the hole.

It was a hard fought match that went back and forth. But in the end, he and his wife prevailed leaving me and another cousin's husband thinking about the victory we let slip away. I am not surprised he won. He never lost much at Horshoes, and certainly never to me. So why would Cornhole be any different? Maybe I can beat him at his 75^th birthday. Somehow I doubt it though. He will find a way to win then too.

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