In retirement, I chose litter over golf. Here's why.

Boris Weinstein, a retired marketing executive, is head of Citizens Against Litter (boris.weinstein@verizon.net).

It's a case of different strokes for different folks. I'm not ready yet to work around the house, go to doctor appointments and play endless rounds of golf. I still want to do a day's work even without pay. I want to make a difference in my neighborhood and in other neighborhoods. I want to be part of Pittsburgh's makeover from an over-the-hill city to a city on a hill. I want to be a mover and shaker again and make Pittsburgh one of the cleanest cities in America. I think retired people playing all that golf put themselves out to pasture.

I can't knock the positives about both golf and picking up litter, like the walking, exercise, fresh air and camaraderie.

I can't knock the equipment, either. It's about the same. Golfers carry a golf bag; litter pickers use a lot of bags. Golfers carry a lot of clubs; litter pickers use just one. (One brand is the "Nifty Nabber.") Both wear gloves.

Litter picking is done on the cheap. Golf costs a ton for the clubs, cart, balls, greens' fees, special clothes, lessons and driving-range visits.

I can't knock the satisfaction for golfers or litter pickers, but I think litter-pickers have it all over golfers in that department.

Golfers feel great when they drive the ball straight and long, when they reach the green in regulation, when they one-putt, when they approach par. As a litter-picker, I smile from ear to ear when a cluttered street is swept litter-free, when street corners are lined with garbage bags, when volunteers high-five because their neighborhood looks great after a weekend Redd Up.

Golfers dream a lot. I have no time for it. Most would love to play Pebble Beach. I'm happy making my rounds on Beechwood Boulevard. What do you think a golfer would give for an invitation to Oakmont Country Club? I was happy to be invited to Verona to speak about litter at the fire hall.

Golfers watch the Masters on TV and think about playing Amen Corner at Augusta, the three-hole torture stretch of the 11th, 12th and 13th holes. I worry about the appearance of Forbes and Murray, Frankstown and Fifth, Aiken and Centre.

Playing the Blue Monster course at Miami's Doral Resort and avoiding the water does nothing for me. Litter-pickers can't skirt water hazards; we slough through dirt-clogged sewers in city neighborhoods.

Pittsburgh's street litter and dangerous potholes are not on a par with St. Andrew's 17th, nicknamed the "Road Hole," the most famous golf hole in the world. But our infamous road holes (plural) are quite impressive, too, and they require endless patching to save drivers the cost of tires, front ends and rear ends.

Last year, amateur golfer Chuck Lenzie, playing the TPC Summerlin course in Las Vegas, had three holes-in-one on the 17th hole on three different occasions. That feat introduced a new golf term, "The Lenzie," to describe this achievement of a golfer's fantasy. According to Golf Digest, the odds of making a hole-in-one are 12,000-to-one. Add a lot more zeroes for nailing three of them.

I, too, dream a little. To see Citizens Against Litter groups in all 89 city neighborhoods. To see 2,000 volunteers cleaning up litter by 2010. To see Pittsburgh become one of the cleanest cities in America.

I want to be the Tiger Woods of litter. Right now, the best I can do is imitate golfer Gene "The Machine" Littler, whose name sounds almost like what I do. I have a long way to go.