Breakfast club family album (1942)

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WHAT IS GOLF? Golf is a form of work made expensive enough for a man to enjoy it. It is a physical and mental exertion made attractive by the fact that you have to dress for it in a $200,000 club house. Golf is what letter carrying, ditch digging and carpet beating would he if those three tasks had to be performed on the same hot afternoon in short pants and colored socks by gouty-looking gentlemen who require a different implement for every mood. Golf is the simplest looking game in the world when you decide to take it up, and the hardest looking after you have been at it ten or twelve years. It is probably the only known game a man can play as long as a quarter of a century and then discover that it was too deep for him in the first place. The game is played on carefully selected grass with little white balls and as many clubs as the player can afford. These little balls cost from seventy-five cents to $25.00 and it is possible to support a family of ten people ‘all adults’ for five months on the money represented by the balls lost by some golfers in a single afternoon. A golf course has eighteen holes, seventeen of which are unnecessary and put in to make the game harder. A “hole” is a tin cup in the center of the “green.” A “green” is a small parcel of grass costing about $1.98 per blade and usually located between a brook and a couple of apple trees, or a lot of “unfinished excava¬ tion.” The idea is to get the ball from a given point into each of the eighteen cups in the fewest strokes and the greatest number of words. The ball must not be thrown, pushed or carried. It must be propelled by about $200.00 worth of curious looking implements especially designed to provoke the owner. Each implement has a specific purpose, and ultimately some golfers get to know that purpose. They are excep¬ tions. After each hole has been completed, the golfer counts his strokes. Then he subtracts six and says, “Made that in five. That’s one over par. Shall we play for fifty cents on the next hole, Ed?” After the final or eighteenth hole, the golfer adds up his score and stops when he has reached eighty-seven. He then has a swim, a pint of gin, sings “Sweet Adeline” with six or eight other liars and calls it the end of a per¬ fect day. ( Anonymous ) HIGH FLIGHT “Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung High in the sun-lit silence. Hovering there I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long delicious burning blue, I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark or even eagle flew. And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand — and touched the face of God.” By John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (Killed in Action with R.C.A.F.) Page 79