A kid grows up in rural West Tennessee and when he's in the sixth grade they build a little nine hole country club, with "country" being the definitive word. He takes to the game like a natural and falls in love with the golf course. He subscribes to golf magazines, begs his mom to buy posterboard so he can route courses and uses his dad's Lawn Boy to mow routings in the adjacent lot. College and career take him away from the game and its beloved architecture until one day he discovers a website dedicated to golf course architecture. Over the next several years he finds himself on the first tee of the Old Course, having lunch and staring at the Captains Balls in the R & A Clubhouse, pulling driver at Cypress Point's 16th, putting off the green at Shinnecock's 11th, marveling at the thin ribbons of green fairway that cross the infinite landscape at Sand Hills, abandoning every worldly concern for a few hours at Ballyneal, besting VandeVelde's finish at Carnoustie with a sure double, passing time at some place called Pasatiempo, misreading putt after putt at a course once known as Fairyland, playing with a Redanman at LuLu, gazing upon a set of dueling pistols in a timeless clubhouse, getting up and down from par from a ridiculously deep fronting bunker at a course in New Jersey restored by a former dry cleaner, and listening to riveting presentations at a classic clubhouse somewhere in New Jersey - that's right, New Jersey.
Along the way he meets a broad cast of characters, too numerous to name and thank at the risk or leaving someone off the list. Men who will never know how much he appreciates their kindness, fellowship and hospitality to this day.
So he enjoys this day off as the weather begins to cool and he's flooded with more recent memories of Mountain Ridge, Knoll West, Plainfield and Forsgate and thinks just how damned lucky he is.
Thank you Ran.
Kindest regards,
Mike Hendren