Talk about a bad lie. In the middle of a deserted area, a  mile from the nearest house, I run across this golf ball. Sitting there still waiting for the duffer whose errant shot came to lie. I’ve played a little golf, but never found it’s call. It’s purpose alludes me. I would rather haul pounds of metal and glass that rides quietly over my shoulder than metal and plastic sticks that rattle and clatter and chase away the butterflies. It is a great world that we all can follow our own strokes. Find your ball to follow, I’m still looking………….enjoy….nada te turbe……jim†

RIP, my childhood friend and baseball playing friend Doyle Bramhall…….”One Drop at a Time”