|My folks never owned their own place. We were just the 'hired family'. We moved to a farm near Kent, OH in 1950 when I was still five years old. My brother Rollie who was seven years older, my sister Linda who is five years older, and little Tommy (me) lived with Mom and Dad is a tiny, two bedroom house and worked for 'The Man'.|
Sometime about a year or so after we moved in, my brother found a couple of golf clubs in the crawl space under the house. What a delight! We hit mushrooms, buckeyes, dirt clods, rocks, and anything else we could find that would fly off the golf clubs.
I don't know where she got it, but some time later, my mother managed to acquire a golf ball. It was the most beautiful ball we could imagine. White, hard, and man would it fly. Rollie and I would take our clubs and our ball out into the pasture, whack that ball as far as we could, go find it, and whack it again.
Rollie could hit the ball pretty straight, but I was terrible. There was no telling where that ball was going to go when it was my turn. Rollie would yell at me and warn me of the most dire consequences that would occur to me if we couldn't find the ball after I'd hit it. We'd search for long periods of times but we'd always find it.
Eventually, we moved on to another farm. Somewhere along the way, we acquired more golf balls, and eventually more golf clubs. Rollie became a pretty good golfer, but to this day I still don't have any idea which direction the ball is going to go when I hit it.
Tom in TN
Submitted By: Tom In Tn from TN on 2009-10-29