Thanks To My Golfing Uncles

Dear Uncle Bob and Uncle Bill,

Thank you for the opportunity to participate in the invitation-only B.S.R.C. Golf Tournament, although I regret that my opportunity was only afforded at the expense of your (Uncle Bill’s) hip ailment.

Thank you also for your contribution of equipment to get me started. As you can see in the photo below, I am well equipped for my fourth set of lessons from my Dad. My goal is to improve to a level where I will neither embarrass you nor the equipment.

In the photo below, you will notice that my father has already begun my instruction as he is explaining where the ball should make contact on the club. You will see where I am proudly displaying Jeff’s alma mater, N.C. State. Most of the clubs in the bag are the originals used by Jeff at college, although I have acquired a new putter. At the bottom of the photo you will see my new golf shoes, which are far superior to the last set of $5 garage sale golf shoes I owned, which failed on the 17th hole (all cleats breaking off, leaving only bolts) resulting in the CFO of our company making me finish the 18th hole in my socks.

You will also see the dozen balls, Uncle Bob, that you supplied me in the egg carton. My father tells me these are quality balls, and has yet to let me use them in practice. Instead we use the practice balls he keeps in a Wallgreen’s bag in his trunk.


I know all players in the B.S.R.C. are apprehensive about my play. I can assure you I have improved in just four lessons, making logarithmic gains. I suspect we will be able to use one of my drives within the first three holes.

Thank you again. I look forward to seeing you tax-weekend in April.

Your nephew,


2 thoughts on “Thanks To My Golfing Uncles

  1. Kathy called me at Claire’s soccer game today to report that someone was throwing out a set of clubs, bag and all. Claire and I drove by on the way home. Sure enough, can out by curb had a bag of clubs. Asked the man washing his car in driveway, “You quitting golf?” He answered, “They aren’t mine. I was hoping someone would stop by and get them.” Not fully understanding his answer, I thanked him and tossed the clubs in the back of the jeep. Claire was trying to crouch down in the front seat and hide. She couldn’t believe I was getting clubs out of the trash. Hey… I’m a golfer now. What can I say?

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