This was my first excursion that went further than within sight of home. I was accompanied by a friend who found opportunity in our visit to the nearby golf course.
I didn’t quite get what the game was all about. Men so far away hitting balls with their clubs. The openness of the greens and fairways was odd to me. They were no more vast than the huge field behind our house, but they were far more cultivated than that wasteland. I felt like walking out onto that green grass was taking a risk.
Then a ball bounced into the scene before us, and it dribbled across to us. My buddy’s first instinct was to pick it up. That brought a yell in protest. Then a man began to run towards us. That was enough for my buddy to hold onto the ball as a prize–and run in his own right. I followed, but soon I figured if I went my own way, the man behind would have to choose between the two of us.
Beyond that choice, I know not how things turned out; except my story ended without being caught. It would be another 10 years before I was on the links again, hitting balls with a long club (I could Bogie the course).