I was surprised the other day to find out golf was invented in the 15th century by some men in Scotland hitting a pebble around sand dunes using a stick or a club. I think they were probably outside for a smoke break and one of them picked up a stick, hit a rock and looked at another guy and said, “Beat that.” That was the birth of the gentleman’s game.

When I was about 12, my Dad and Mom wanted me to learn to play golf and love it like they did. I got the best shoes, the finest clubs and private lessons and I really tried to love it, but the chemistry just wasn’t there. But I kept it up because there was a really cute boy in the junior program. I could knock the cover off the ball, but had no control over where it went. I think I spent half of the summer looking for 300 yard shots that went into the woods where all the ticks and chiggers lived.

Mom always looked so cute in her golf outfits. She once considered switching to tennis because she thought it had more to offer fashion wise. I honestly think she played for social purposes only, however, she did once have a hole-in-one. She wasn’t a power hitter, but was consistently right down the middle, kind of like the tortoise in The Tortoise and The Hare story.

Dad was on the golf course every Thursday and Saturday and Most Sunday afternoons. He was thrilled Jason and Travis enjoy golf. It was almost like he was passing along a legacy for the love of golf even though it evidently skipped a generation. And the tradition continues. Now Jackson is playing junior golf and can’t get enough of it. Obviously he has figured out how to stay out of the woods.

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