A Memorable Day, For Sure...

   Sometime back in the previous century, probably around the late 70s or early 80s, a friend called me and said that he had an extra ticket to the Masters for the next day, and he also had plane transportation to and from Augusta. Could I go, he asked? My answer: "What time do I need to be where?"

   I thought about that trip to Augusta National as I looked at my computer this morning. This was Day One for the 2015 Masters, and I had been there for this day so many years ago.

   I can't really remember who won that year, or even which players I got to see, but I do remember the course, how green it was, how the azaleas colored the grounds, how the crowds were so hushed, almost reverent, how good the $1.00 egg salad sandwich was, and how thrilled I was to actually walk on such a course.

   In subsequent years, after we moved south, I have been able to go a couple of times, but always on a Tuesday, the practice round day before the opening of the tournament. It is always great to see the course and the players, but it makes a difference when you watch a golf shot being hit and know that the result actually counts.

   I remember, too, the special transportation we had that earlier day. We flew to Augusta that day on a Lear jet and flew home on a Beechcraft Queen Air. Not a bad way to get down and back.

   Thirty or so years later, these are the things that I most remember. All because of a friend's invitation to watch some golf on a beautiful day.

   I remember it fondly, I wonder if he does?