Bespoke

Memoir

  • Building a Golf Course in My Backyard – part 3

    Golf balls litter our course like orphaned Easter eggs. There is a bucket of balls sitting on the first tee and I’ve noticed my Dad and Mom and Karen whacking shots from the first tee to points distant. They hit… Continue reading

  • Building a Golf Course in My Backyard ~ Part 2

    “Golf is a game of considerable passion, either of the explosive type, or that which burns inwardly and sears the soul.” Bobby Jones I can’t seem to get golf courses out of my head. Golf layouts stick to my brain… Continue reading

  • Humility in a Sea of Tranquility

    Neil Armstrong used to tell dry punchless jokes about the moon and then follow them up with, “Ahh…I guess you had to be there.” . Well, I was there…at least I felt deep down in my soul I was there… Continue reading

  • LBJ & Dad had No Idea What Fuse They Lit in 1965

    My favorite childhood holiday through the wonder years of the Sixties was the 4th of July. I had no precocious notions of patriotism, not one noble sentiment of love for country. I just loved fireworks. Sparklers (Please…don’t plunge them deep… Continue reading

  • The Sole of My Father

    Before soft comfortable velcro secured shoes I remember my Dad’s brown wingtip leather-sole shoes tied with dark cords and buffed brilliantly with Kiwi shoe polish. I thought of my Dad and how i once watched him polish those shoes, as… Continue reading

  • The Funniest People I Know: Ralph Rowand

    I left home in the stifling heat of August 1977 at the same time Elvis left the building for good. My destination was Searcy, Arkansas and Harding University. I had no inkling that the friends I made in college would… Continue reading

  • It’s Sweet to Play Like You Are Loved

    One of the most memorable rounds of golf I’ve ever played, I played angry. And it came on the heels of an exchange with a man we called Sweet, even though decorum and his given name, Edward Muir Sweet, demanded… Continue reading

  • The Man from 1933

    I walked through my front door this morning and was startled by the dense mechanical ring of the oak & metal Bell Telephone Company phone mounted on the wall of our living room facing out to the east garden. I… Continue reading

  • Mosquito Dancing in the Fire Hall

    My wife Karen was born in Trenton, New Jersey and spent most of her childhood in the small town of Tabernacle on the edge of the pine barrens about halfway between Philadelphia and Atlantic City. I first visited her home… Continue reading

  • Caddying for the Younger Generation – Part 2

    I sat on my hotel bed the night before the opening round and read about notable players including a golfer from Shreveport named Hal Sutton who had already won the Western Amateur that summer. I’m playing with Hal Sutton who… Continue reading