Volunteering at Canal Shores
Editor’s Note: Members and their families can come experience Canal Shores this Saturday morning, at NewClub’s 2021 Hangout at Canal Shores. More information here. Spots are still available in the NewClub app.
I get anxiety writing about volunteering at Canal Shores. In fairness, I get anxiety about most things, but my relationship with Canal Shores is a strange and deeply personal journey. It began with a follow on Instagram, then an opportunity to volunteer. Somewhere in the middle I showed up to Canal Shores as close to life's rock bottom as I have ever come. In the end it is a place that has helped shape and define the pillars of my beliefs as a person. To explain how I arrived, fell in love, and try to give back to Canal Shores, I have to admit something first: I am a fraud.
I don’t remember exactly when I first heard about Canal Shores, but it was approximately spring of 2018. I was 31 years old and the father of a two year old, planning for a second kid, and I was addicted to golf. My wife and I had moved to the Beverly neighborhood of Chicago a few years before, and I was searching for a club to call my own. Alas, as the only golfer in our house, the cost of joining a private club was a non-starter when my wife and I planned our budget. So I kept playing my regular loops down the street at our local muni while searching for affordable memberships somewhere in Chicago.
Somehow Google led me to Canal Shores. They had a yearly membership! It was under a grand! What is this place I wondered? After a few clicks on their website, I was disappointed to find that it was a par 60 and at least an hour away from Beverly. My search continued, but before I forgot about Canal Shores, I made sure to follow their Instagram page. After all, as a proud Chicagoan, how could I not love a golf course that plays next to the “El”?
***
“It began with a follow on Instagram, then an opportunity to volunteer. Somewhere in the middle I showed up to Canal Shores as close to life’s rock bottom as I have ever come. In the end it is a place that has helped shape and define the pillars of my beliefs as a person. ”
Fast forward a few years: it’s sub 20 degrees outside, 6:30am on a Saturday. There is at least 24 inches of snow on the ground, and it's still snowing. I put my kids in front of the TV in hopes that they will let my wife sleep an extra hour, as once again I am leaving to drive an hour north to Canal Shores, to meet up with a handful of people to volunteer at their (but definitely not mine) local golf course.
Today the plan is to burn the buckthorn and ivy we cut a few weeks ago. But first we need to use snowblowers to clear a path to where we can start a fire.
If I were to frame one image to capture how much the volunteers at Canal Shores care about the golf course and its ecology plan, this scene is it. The good news is that the cold is completely mitigated by trying to force a snowblower into two foot deep frozen snow. Even if we wanted to quit we couldn’t, because Pat’s truck is stuck in the snow halfway down the 18th hole. So there we are, three of us at first, then a fourth arrives. We slowly create a clearing large enough so the truck can tow the ten or so Volkswagon-sized piles of buckthorn we are hoping to burn today.
As the sun gets a bit higher, more and more people arrive. By 10am there are probably 20 of us: a Canal Shores board member, who fortunately has an updated burn permit (helpful to have when the local police slow roll us a few times), a Northwestern football coach, neighbors who grew up a few houses away and have seen the course through all of its transitions, and people like me, called to Canal from across the city and suburbs. Some people bring kids, who are entertained by picking up the biggest sticks they can and tossing them into the ten foot flames. Others bring dogs, who happily plop in and out of the deep snow with the freedom that earlier alluded our snowblowers. By 11am, the piles that were inaccessible only a few hours ago are engulfed in fire and being reduced to fine ash. The fire now is no longer a job but a source of relief and rejuvenation. Bellies are being filled with breakfast burritos, and a few cigars are lit. The conversation turns from which log to tie to the truck, to what courses we are hoping to play once this seemingly unmeltable snow actually does melt. Soon people wave goodbye, off to their other Saturday activities, but not without asking what the plan for next week is, eager to return to the work.
***
Shortly after following Canal Shores, golf Instagram led me to NewClub Golf Society: and this is where my defrauding begins.
NewClub seemed to finally be my answer to joining a private club. They offered access to some Chicago courses that I would otherwise never get on, membership was relatively affordable--and best yet--they talked about comraderie and preserving the spirit of the game: all things that my “woke” golf self was excited about. The only problem was, NewClub required an application. I didn’t know golf. I had been to exactly one private course before, where I was so nervous about knowing where I could change my shoes that I drove the entire 90 minutes to New Buffalo, Michigan, in my spikes. How was I supposed to convince this group that my 20+ handicap would be worthy companionship? I fretted for a few weeks over the application before finally submitting it.
I don’t remember all of the application questions, but I wrote about how golf had brought me closer to my dad, how my favorite golf moment had been seeing my toddler run around a green at dusk, hitting a ball with his plastic putter. I probably wrote some waxing poetic ramble about how nothing is better than early morning barefoot golf. And at the end I talked about a golf course that I had only ever read about or seen pictures of: Canal Shores.
I talked about how this short, truly municipal course was the future of golf. How it was the little course that could. How we needed more short, affordable, community-based courses to make golf what it should be. I meant every word of it, but it would be another six months before I would know if any of it was true.
***
I got into NewClub in late fall of 2019, just in time to play in one event: the Honey Pot at Calumet Country Club. It was a cold November day, and we had to shovel snow off of the greens before we could play, but it was the best day of golf I ever had. These were my people: golf elitists minus the snobbery. I was itching for more, so a few weeks later when the message went out that there would be a volunteer day at Canal Shores, I drove north to finally meet the course and figure out if it really was everything I thought it could be.
My first time volunteering at Canal Shores, I walked more than I worked. I parked at the clubhouse to work on the 6th hole. The course was under snow, and I had no idea which way it played. I walked north and headed up toward what I would later find out was #12, before passing underneath the “El” onto #11. From there I crossed another street and went up 10, then 5, finally getting to 7, which is adjacent to 6. From the Purple Line bridge over the water canal, to crossing multiple streets to get to new holes, and then finally seeing the Bahai Temple, the walk cemented in me that this was a city course unlike anything I ever seen.
To call Canal Shores a neighborhood golf course would be a disservice, as it implies a separation between the neighborhood and the golf course. Canal Shores is people's backyards. At volunteer days or when playing, it is just as common to see a foursome in front of you as it is to see joggers or dog walkers. One summer night a group of 5th- or 6th-grade boys followed our group on their bikes and watched us play golf. There are birdwatchers who posted photos of their recent sightings on community boards on the course. Boy Scouts built a nature path to encourage more people to come out and use the space. Canal Shores is quick to remind you, it is not a municipal course, it is a not-for-profit, and that passion to keep a bustling, green, community space in the heart of Evanston open for all. This is what gives Canal Shores its special flair.
“Watching the work and experiencing the camaraderie made me feel fraudulent to call myself a volunteer, because the reality is that the time I have spent at Canal Shores, has given way more back to me than I have given to it. ”
This is all worth commending, but what makes Canal really excellent is it also has damn fine golf. I didn’t get to play there until after I had done a few volunteer days, and I was grateful we removed so much buckthorn when I continued to hit my ball into recently cleared paths. If you live in the northern half of the Chicago area and you have dreams of your kids winning AJGA events, you should have them play every day at Canal. It is the toughest short course I have ever played: each shot requires precision. In the summer it plays firm and forces you to get creative. Keep a handicap at Canal Shores and you are going to be everyone's favorite tournament partner, because your game is at least a couple strokes better than your index. And when it's hot and you get your ass fully kicked by the course and are searching for a drink, you can go upstairs to the local American Legion Hall Post 42, which has a bar on the top floor of this unassuming clubhouse. Canal Shores is about as Americana as it gets.
***
I feel like a fraud when I talk about Canal Shores, not just because I bent the truth a bit on my NewClub application. When I think and talk about what it means to be a volunteer at Canal Shores, I struggle to label myself as one.
That first winter day in 2019, I was privileged to meet Jason, a local volunteer and author of the blog, Geeked on Golf. I didn’t know his website then but enjoyed talking to him a bit about his relationship with Canal Shores. A local Evanston resident, he had pretty much dismissed Canal Shores as a place only worthy of a shag bag and hitting a few practice balls. But soon he volunteered to be on the greens committee and then lit the fire of volunteers. That day I also met Matt G., a fellow NewClubber who had been working with Jason. We talked a bit as Matt mercifully drove me back from the 6th hole to my car at the clubhouse. You could hear his excitement for what was being undertaken at Canal.
***
The author, with chainsaw.
Nearly a year after those first few volunteer days, I found myself dealing with one of the most difficult stretches of my life. During COVID my wife had lost her job, we had lost two family members in ten days, and my work situation was so stressful and complicated that it had me contemplating a major career change. My anxiety pretty much crippled me, and it was leading me into massive stretches of depression.
I texted Matt G., who I had met the year before and had spoken to a few times since, to see if he knew a way for me to get involved at Canal Shores. Matt called me right back and said he would introduce me to Pat and Scott, who in the time of quarantine had organized fellow neighbors on holes 11 and 12 to come out and volunteer. Soon I was spending three or four days a week taking chainsaws from Pat’s garage and digging nature paths around Canal Shores.
I told Pat and Scott on the first day I met them that I was in a dark place and hoping to find “god” out there at Canal Shores. I said it fairly sarcastically, but in reality golf is probably the most spiritual thing in my life. While others feel first tee jitters and anxiety, as soon as I get to the course, my recurring anxiety disappears. In golf I know where everything is. I slice it left, but it’s no big deal: I still know where I am going and what the objective is. For a few hours a week, life and its unknowns disappear, and instead I am able to breathe and recover.
I found more than “god” at Canal Shores. The more I volunteered, the more I was able to talk to other people who were drawn to Canal for similar purposes. Matt G, Dan, and Tony from NewClub helped organize more people to come from all around the city. Seemingly each volunteer day we seemed to triple the amount of work I thought we could get done. Watching the work and experiencing the comraderie made me feel fraudulent to call myself a volunteer, because the reality is that the time I have spent at Canal Shores has given way more back to me than I have given to it.
There is a lot in golf that makes me uncomfortable. In the U.S., golf is an exclusionary sport by nature, and often that exclusivity is compounded by a litany of gatekeeping meant to keep the have-nots separate from the haves. When I was searching for a place to call my golf home, I was often frustrated, because their exclusionary nature went against some of my most core beliefs. NewClub and Canal Shores have shown me there is a different path forward in golf.
Canal Shores is quite literally the opposite of exclusion, devoid of pretense. Matt G. and I both say that we think Canal is the future of golf, that its story should be the story of American golf. A few weeks ago I brought my toddlers to the course to volunteer. They spent hours entertained by the constantly passing trains, trying to hit putts with their plastic putters, and taking photos with the statue of Seabiscuit. The best part, after playing for a while, my son saw the volunteers working and asked if we could stop playing so he could help. Off he went carrying sticks to the fire. Apparently the spirit of Canal Shores is contagious even for four year olds.
For years, courses across America have tried harder and harder to be like the exclusive retreats that glisten green on our TV’s on Sunday. As golf tries to wrestle with the legacy of its past, and build on the momentum it has gained during the pandemic, my hope is that more and more courses look at Canal Shores and aspire to its even more lofty goals: a place where anyone can come as they are, that’s built by the community, for everyone.
