My mother had a sevetny-three, three toned Ford Maverick. The colors were brown, tan and rust.  Back then five dollars got me a quarter tank of gas and a little freedom. It was enough gas to get me to Saint Clair beach and to Saint Gregory's Church for choir practice. Faith unlimited is a travelling choir group and I was one of a few singers/guitar players.  Practice always started with what we called a family circle. "My song is soft can you hear it" was a song we sang together before practice.  There is a girl who caught my eye. Apparently she caught another guys eyes too. Me and this guy had something in common; we both wore same style of cap and we both set out sights on this one girl. She wore a hat too. In fact it seemed she always had a hat on, hiding her curly blonde hair. I found her strangely intriguing. We began to hang out. I'd meet her at church parking lot down the road from her house and even though I knew she was secretly seeing the guy who looked like...

It was a lovely spring day. The sky was blue, the grass was green and the balls were white. I gripped the club and applied just enough pressure to allow my shoulder muscles to relax and feel the freedom of motion to complete my picturesque swing. I was feeling like the Bill Murray chopping down the flowers in Caddy Shack. (Insert my cheesy Bill Murray impression here) Smooth it out there Looks like he's got a four iron maybe a five. Then Howard Cosell makes a ghostly visit to the golf course. Here he is folks, a Cinderella story, out of Southwestern Ontario . He's imagining the shot. He is feeling it, believing it. He steps up. The swing. Oh, what a sight. Straight down the middle with a little draw. Should be in perfect position Jim . I don’t know who Jim was or how he got in the story, but I digress. All I had left was a one-hundred-and-twenty-yard chip. I was ready for the approach shot but this approach was going to be a little tricky. The green was not green, it was ...