A Little Caddyshack, a Lot of Nostalgia, and My Midlife Golf Obsession

There are probably better reasons to start a golf brand at 48 than a lifelong affection for a wildly inappropriate 1980s movie, a mediocre golf game, and an inability to have a hobby without turning it into a business.

But here we are.

Welcome to That’s a Peach, Hon.

Let me explain.

First, We Need to Talk About Caddyshack

Growing up in the Kessenich household, Caddyshack was practically required viewing.

Never mind that my siblings and I were approximately eight years old watching Chevy Chase literally chase Cindy Morgan around a golf course. Apparently, the R rating was more of a suggestion than an actual parenting guideline.

We thought Rodney Dangerfield’s golf bag was about the funniest thing we’d ever seen. The gopher? Come on. Comedy gold.

And as we got older, we just kept watching it. We understood a few more jokes every time. We memorized the lines. We quoted them at completely inappropriate moments. Eventually, I became a parent myself and, naturally, subjected my own children to the same cinematic education.

Circle of life.

There are about a thousand lines from that movie that have worked their way into our family’s vocabulary, but one in particular has always stuck with me.

“That’s a peach, hon.”

If you know the movie, you know Mrs. Havercamp. In one of my favorite scenes, she faces a water hazard, takes a swing, lets out an enthusiastic little “Wee!” and sends her ball straight into the drink.

And there it is. That’s a peach, hon.

Somewhere along the way, my dad started saying it to my mom.

She’d get up on water skis. That’s a peach, hon.

She’d make a good dinner. That’s a peach, hon.

She’d do something cute or funny or particularly endearing. That’s a peach, hon.

Eventually, it trickled down to us kids, too.

It became one of those little family sayings that probably doesn’t mean much to anyone else but carries an entire childhood inside it for me.

And now, decades later, here I am building a golf brand around it.

A little nostalgia. A cute peach logo. A nod to what I consider the greatest golf movie of all time. And a whole lot of gratitude to my parents for apparently not realizing the R rating applied to the Kessenich kids.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

But Why Start a Golf Brand at 48?

Excellent question.

Especially considering that, until fairly recently, my golf game could best be described as occasionally competent.

Here’s the thing. I actually started golfing young.

I even won my first women’s golf tournament at 14.

FOURTEEN.

Do you know what I could have done with that kind of potential?

I could have played in high school. I could have practiced. I could have applied myself. I could be sitting here today enjoying my retirement from the LPGA Tour, reminiscing about my glory days and deciding which endorsement deal to renew.

Instead, I did what a lot of teenagers do.

Something else.

For most of my adult life, I “golfed” approximately once a year. Twice if there happened to be two outings on the calendar.

I could hold my own. I knew which end of the club to use. I wasn’t completely embarrassing.

But I also used my husband’s clubs, which should tell you everything you need to know about how seriously I took the sport.

There was no equipment research. No golf fashion rabbit hole. No particular desire to improve.

Back when I was drinking, golf was also a perfectly acceptable excuse to day drink in the sunshine.

An organized activity with a beverage cart?

Sign me up.

But somewhere along the way, things changed.

And Then My Son Started Playing Golf

Our son developed an interest in playing for his high school golf team, and suddenly golf started showing up in our family life in a much bigger way.

I found myself buying Lululemon clothes with our school cardinal on them and Nike sweatpants with Middleton Golf printed on the hip.

I walked the course while he played.

I watched him practice.

I started paying attention.

And then I noticed something else.

I was getting a little jealous when the boys would head out to play golf together on a Saturday morning.

Not jealous in a dramatic, nobody-loves-me kind of way.

More like, Wait a minute. Why aren’t I doing that?

And then one Tuesday night, we played golf with another couple.

I’d lost about 60 pounds, felt better in my body, and discovered something mildly surprising.

I was still kind of good.

Or at least I didn’t suck.

Which, honestly, was enough encouragement for me.

So we played again the next Tuesday.

Then we joined a couples league on Friday nights.

Then I found myself standing in front of a golf simulator on a Saturday morning, testing new clubs for two hours.

Two. Hours.

A woman who had spent most of her adult life borrowing her husband’s golf clubs was suddenly researching equipment like she had a tour card to defend.

Slippery slope and all.

The Rabbit Hole Has Entered the Chat

Next came the Instagram golf swing videos.

Then golf fashion.

Then golf equipment.

Then golf memberships.

Then golf course management.

And when I say golf course management, I mean I actually found myself sitting across from the general manager of a country club discussing a potential job building their membership community.

Because apparently playing golf, buying golf clothes, and starting a golf blog weren’t quite enough.

I might as well get a job at a golf course, too.

Golf, golf, golf.

And here’s the really interesting part.

I keep getting better because I keep playing more.

What a concept.

Not because I suddenly became some naturally gifted athlete at 48. Not because I found the perfect club or discovered a secret swing tip on Instagram.

I’m simply spending more time doing something I enjoy.

And the more I enjoy it, the more I want to do it.

The other day, I played 18 holes.

By myself.

Eighteen holes of just me, my clubs, the course, and whatever thoughts happened to wander through my head.

A few years ago, I wouldn’t have even considered doing that.

Now? I loved it.

I Know Exactly How I Got Here

I would be lying if I said I had no idea how this happened.

I know exactly how I got here.

I got here the same way I get everywhere when something lights a fire under me.

I saddle up my rabbit and follow it straight down the hole.

I’m a multipassionate woman. A scanner. A person who gets intensely interested in something and immediately wants to learn everything about it.

And apparently, I cannot simply enjoy a hobby.

Nope.

I need to research it, write about it, talk about it, create something around it, and possibly figure out how to make money doing it.

Some people buy golf clubs.

I buy golf clubs and a domain name.

It’s a condition.

But it’s also one of the things I love most about being this age.

I’ve spent enough years doing things because I was supposed to, because they were practical, because they made sense, or because someone needed me to do them.

Now, when something genuinely excites me, I pay attention.

And golf is exciting me.

Not just the game itself, either.

Everything around it.

I Think More Women Should Play Golf in Midlife

And not necessarily because they want to become better golfers.

Although if that’s your goal, I’m all for it.

I want to get better. I like competing. I like seeing what happens when I actually practice something instead of just showing up and hoping for the best.

But I also think golf offers something pretty special to women in midlife.

A reason to get outside.

A reason to move our bodies.

A reason to spend time with our partners, our friends, our kids, or nobody at all.

A reason to learn something new at an age when the world sometimes seems to think we should have everything figured out already.

Four hours of sunshine, conversation, fresh air, and the occasional swear word.

And nature!

I have wandered into parts of the woods looking for golf balls that I would never otherwise have had the opportunity to explore.

Not exactly the nature walk I envisioned, but I’ll take it.

There are so many things I want to talk about here.

Couples golf. Girls’ golf trips. Golf vacations. Women’s leagues. Golf clothes that are actually cute. Equipment. Accessories. The etiquette nobody explains. How to make the game more welcoming. What golf can teach us about patience, confidence, and letting go of a bad shot.

And how much fun it can be to care deeply about something without needing to be the best at it.

Because that’s the other thing I’ve learned.

You don’t have to be great at something for it to become a great part of your life.

So, Welcome to That’s a Peach, Hon.

This isn’t going to be a website where I pretend to be a golf instructor.

I’m not.

It isn’t going to be a place where every woman is assumed to be a beginner, either. Some of you have been playing for decades, carry impressive handicaps, and could absolutely take my money on the course.

You’re welcome here, too.

This is a place for women who love golf and everything that comes with it.

The competition. The friendships. The travel. The clothes. The courses. The 19th hole. The ridiculous accessories we convince ourselves are absolutely necessary.

The good rounds, the bad rounds, and the ones where the company makes the score irrelevant.

And maybe, just maybe, a little permission to get ridiculously excited about something new at an age when we might have thought all our biggest discoveries were behind us.

I’m 48 years old, mildly obsessed with a game I’m still figuring out, and having an absolute ball.

Pun very much intended.

And somewhere in all of this is a little girl watching Caddyshack with her siblings, laughing at a gopher, listening to her dad tell her mom, “That’s a peach, hon.”

I think she’d get a pretty big kick out of this.

Glad you’re here.

Now let’s go play some golf.

New around here? Welcome to the Golf Journal, where we’re talking about golf, good clothes, questionable swings, and having a whole lot of fun figuring it out.