Of fathers and sons and golfing for life

Some people play golf for a living.
Some play it for life.
Count me as part of the latter. As I've already noted here, I took up the game when I was 14; now I'm 47 (hold on, let me get a calculator ...)  that's 33 years I've been chasing that little white ball around big, green pastures. And, oh, has it been fun.
It's funny, though. For years I felt golf was a great escape for me. Even though I wasn't that good (and I'm still not) I'd get out on the course and the cares of the world would drift away like a hard slice off the 1st tee (if you've played with me, you know what I mean). For the next few hours, even if I wasn't playing well, life was pretty good because even bad golf beats a good honey-do list on a Saturday afternoon.