Dead men playing

Around 1903, these fine fellows were about to play from the very spot where I now set out to play on my golf course, although the trees all around are all grown up now and that fine clubhouse burned down in the year of my birth, 1955, to be replaced by the new clubhouse still standing on that same mound. It gives me pause for thought as I set out, once again, to whack a little ball around the island.

click photo to enlargeAnd those old bones that once swung so keenly probably lie in the wet earth somewhere not too far away from where I now swing my own old bones.