After spending many years playing softball and working in mid management we packed up and moved in 1984 to Mt Pleasant, SC. I moved here to open women's retail stores for a large retail chain. I decided I wanted to play golf and joined Patriots Point Golf Links that had a great membership package and I could play in the afternoons when I was in town. I picked up a set of Wilson Staff FG 17 irons and I was out to conquer this silly game. Little did I know. Not the set to learn on. I also joined a softball team and met some guys who played golf and picked up some tips when invited to join them. Those two games just do not mix well. Eventually retired from softball, after 26 years, the hamstrings just wore out and decided that golf was my calling. Guess I just decided I need something other than work and golf looked like a good challenge. No worries. Right? Not.

And to this day only two members in my family play. I introduced my brother in law to the game and he passed it on to his son who played in high school. My family still lives in East Tennessee, are country folks, the salt of the earth, and refer to it as cow pasture pool.

My father introduced golf too me as a child. Then my husband plays and we started while dating. I play weekly and shot between 84/91 now. We play in some tournaments together. We enjoy playing together️‍♀️

I caddied from age 13 to 16 or 17. Bought my first clubs one at a time. I've never regretted a minute I've spent on a golf course 60 years after that first loop.

At the ripe age of 8 years old I would go to Clifton park golf course. and the pro there would let me shag balls for 50cents a bag. His name was Joe Vaith . that is when I got my 1st club from him it was a mashie wooden shaft. He taught me how to interlock my fingers and stance. He always looked out for me .I remember him giving one of my 1st golf balls .It was an Accushnet Every time I made some money another club would be bought. One time a golfer accused me of stealing his ball and took me to him .He told him he was wrong and that I would never do that . I have never put a club down after that .I will be 70years old this year and still enjoy getting out with my brother and friends to play

It began when I started to caddy at Des Moines Golf and Country Club. For a job that summer of jr hi, I had the choice of delivering papers or caddying. Since I am not an early morning person, the choice was easy. I moved on up to caddymaster after awhile and later worked in the pro shop. As caddies, we had the opportunity to play golf on Monday morning for free (I learned to try to caddy for good golfers on Sundays - thought it carried over to how I played on Mondays). I got started in golf at Waveland Golf Course in a big group lesson. I do not remember the teacher. My early mentors were Joe Brown and Frank Donovan. My hero: Ben Hogan. His wedge shot on #17 at Cherry Hills still haunts both of us.

Fifty years ago next month my wife and I went on our first date. At this momentous occasion she asked me “ Do you ski?” To which I responded “No”. She responded “You will”. Her next question was “Do you play golf?” To which I responded “No”. She again responded “You will.”
We stopped skiing a few years ago but 50 years later we play golf every weekend. She hasn’t lost anything and still carries a 14 handicap while I have slipped from 6 down to an 11.

(going to try this again ... didn't see it added)
Golf started as a job issue first. In a summer of junior high, I needed a job. The choices were: caddying at the Des Moines Golf and Country Club or delivering papers. Since I am not a morning person, the choice was easy (also, the head pro and his wife were friends of my parents). Caddies were allowed to play the course on Monday mornings. I remember when caddying, I tried to caddy for a good golfer on Sunday: I thought it helped me play better on Mondays. My first lessons were group sessions at Waveland Golf Course; I don't recall the instructors name. Later on my mentors were Joe Brown and Frank Donovan. My hero was Ben Hogan: that fatal wedge shot on #17 at Cherry Hills in the US Open is a wound that never healed for both of us. As a caddy, I worked several summers, moving up to caddymaster then an assistant in the pro shop. Joe was a tough boss, but generous to a fault later: always willing to head out to the practice tee to check out my game. I've been looking for a teacher like him ever since; been close but not quite there.

I think it was myself and my buddies watching Arnold Palmer and his coolness and swagger on TV when we were 12 yrs old in 1960. We all saved up $5 and went to the local sporting good store to buy 5 irons. Went accross the street in a field that was also our baseball diamond, and started our love for the game trying to swing at the ball like Arnold. 60 yrs later still playing the game we fell in love with.

August 1st 2012. My brother came home from work and peeked into my room and asked me if i wanted to go golfing. I gave him a weird look only a brother would lol.

So off we went.. and here i am. Sometimes i want to thank him endlessly. But there sure are times i want to wring his neck for introducing me to this god forsaken game lol.

I actually got my dad playing the game again. I found his clubs one day when I was 10 years old. I started hitting balls in the backyard. After showing a true interest in the game we started playing together at our local course. Played many two man tournaments together and had some great father-son bonding time.

Started to caddy when I was 10 yrs old. I was fortunate enough to get the Evans Scholarship as a result of years of caddying 6 days a week for years. Thankfully, today, golf is my retirement activity.

My best friend Jimmy's older sister worked at a local country club and we heard that once we turned 13? - I think, we could make $6 and maybe a $2 tip for carrying a golf bag for 18 holes. That was a lot of beano back then for a 13 year old.

I didn't start playing until I was probably between 10-11 years old. I had been stung by a bee and was in a lot of pain because as it turns out I'm allergic to bee stings, My grandmother and two of her cousins both women decided to cheer me up and took me for a "ride". We ended up at a place called Skyline golf course where I was told we're going to play golf. Neither my grandmother or her cousins owned clubs, but they did have golf shoes which I now find very amusing. Clubs weren't a problem because this course rented clubs. When my grandmother returned from the shop she informed me that the only available set of clubs for kids was left-handed. I am right-handed . Nonetheless off we went, a 10-11 year old and 3 retired school teachers. Don't remember how I played but it was fun getting to drive the 3 wheeled golf cart. I played a few more times both lefty and righty, until I was in high school when my great uncle passed away and my great aunt gave me his clubs which were right handed, so I could join the golf team. Wilson Sam Sneads with leather grips, a Walter Hagen Sand Wedge, and a Spaulding "Cash In" putter. So thank you to these 3 incredible women, Nan Morrison, Katherine Kelly, Mary Mulholland, and Bess Hart, thank you for your generosity, and all of you for starting me on this wonderfully frustrating but incredibly fulfilling journey in golf. I hope your up there in heaven watching with delight

A girlfriend named Elaine introduced me to golf in 1962 just after we graduated from college, me from Williams and her from Mount Holyoke. She invited me to visit her home in Toledo, Ohio. Her father was a doctor and a member of a private golf club there, and she took me out for a round as her guest. I had never swung a golf club, but had played baseball, so had some idea of how to swing. She was athletic and obviously much better, and gave me some instruction. Her father was opposed to her dating me. As a German immigrant who had become successful and wealthy, he did not like the idea of his only daughter dating the son of a Swedish immigrant middle class mother who was not wealthy and worked hard to put me through college with the help of a job waiting tables and a partial scholarship and loan. Later that summer, Elaine dumped me for someone named Paul, who had a graduate degree in biochemistry. Now, decades later, I have returned to Williams for some of my class reunions and had the opportunity to play the Taconic golf course right next to the campus. A tough but beautiful track. Makes me wish I had learned golf way back then.

My Aunt Irene introduced and encouraged me in golf. She took me to her golf club which had a par 3 course, and I was hooked! She gave me her very old first set of clubs too, lol. On a regulation course, I broke 90 my first year, and 80 my second year, after my father got me a decent used set of first flight sticks. 52 years later, I still love golf.

Introduced or coerced... My last 2 years in the Navy (served 8yrs active duty) I was a recruiter in New Bedford Mass. My fellow recruiters stated we are going golfing one day. I replied I don't golf. The head of us recruiters then stated no problem stay here and work. To which I fired back whoa, I can golf. That's how my crazy game of golf started. A few notes, 1) we bet per hole right from the start. I lost for the longest time. It was ok because money went to buy beer. Really wish youtube was around back then to help me. 2) A few years prior I lived in Kilmun Scotland for 2 years. I thought golf was stupid back then. Still call myself a potato head for that.

My Dad. I was very young. I probably had a golf club in my hands before I had a baseball glove. I grew up in Western PA.. Followed Arnie's army on tv with my Dad. Even got to play out in Latrobe at Arnie's home course a couple of times. In the early 50's my Dad had a 1 hdcp. self taught. He taught me how to read the greens. Still to this day I get down behind the ball to read the putt. I consider myself a decent putter because of him.

Thanks Dad.

My story is a little different, My only experience with golf had been riding in the cart with my dad (I was 7 or 8) and as a squirrel crossed in the path of my dads shot I yelled out watch out for the squirrel (needless to say that was my last time on a golf course with him until being an adult). Now Fast forward to my high school freshman year, I was walking down a hallway and had a run in with a few sophomore students and was called into the School disciplinarian's (DC Kimbrough) office with another person. After sitting there for what seemed like hours I was called in and the other person was sitting there we talked about the incident (found out the other persons name was the same as mine). Kimbrough started asking me what were my hobbies and I was on multiple HS teams (tennis/chess), Kimbrough then told me that he was looking for a 4th (he was starting a HS golf team) and if I joined I would not have to do any after school punishment. So, of course I joined and have been playing going on 50 years now. I wouldn't say that moment totally change the direction of my life as I was a good kid, but I did get a life long best friend (Who happen to already be on the golf team & the person that I had the altercation with) , a multitude of friends over the years and a game that I will play until I can't anymore.......

I got started by my dad allowing me to use his old mixed set of clubs he had stashed in the attic. He only played a few times with a work league so my actual coaching was just from TV and a few books. Dad later passed these clubs on to me and I still keep them as a reminder of those early years hitting plastic wiffle balls In the back yard.

Thirty something years ago, a girlfriend asked me to play golf with her. Golf? Last thing I would play. She said it would be a game we could play together, and using the HCP system could actually compete. Nope. She chose to take group classes at the local community college, hitting whiffle balls off of plastic mats. I watched and listened to the instructor who paid an awful lot of attention to her. After all, she was 5’9”, long blonde hair, blue eyed and athletic - she got that a lot. I read the Jack Nicklaus “Golf My Way” book she bought and continually watched his golf video with her. She was determined to learn this game, but I still held back. I was still surfing, skiing, skateboarding, riding mountain bikes and climbing - golf, ugh.

Her girlfriend gave her an old set of clubs that she didn’t use anymore - women’s clubs, skinny blue grips, blue woods (real wood woods), matching blue bag, floppy shafts. She struggled with hitting them consistently. I watched her from the cheap plastic chair at the driving range. I saw lots of old guys at the driving range, mumbling to themselves, cursing the ball, topping shots, slicing and duck hooking, just hacking it up and sweating profusely. But then there was one guy, who had the most splendidly rhythmic, fluid swing, that sent the ball out with graceful arcs no matter which club he held. He would take his time between each shot, take a puff of his cigarette, pick a club, take his stance, and thwack! Holding his finish like the guy on top of a golf trophy. Other guys would stand behind him and admire his swing. He would occasionally toss out a swing tip or two to them, like biscuits to loyal dogs.

As per usual, after a number of poorly struck shots, my girlfriend said, “What am I doing wrong?” Finally, the bait was in front of me and I bit. I couldn’t take it anymore, I walked over to her, grabbed a club out of the bag and struck it solidly first try. I swung just like the golf trophy guy. I’ll never ever forget the blissful feeling and trajectory of that ball soaring into the practice field. “How did you do that?” she said. The bait was taken, hook was set, a life long golfer was born. Let me try another club. Thwack! Hold the finish. “How are you doing that?” Thwack! Hold the finish. “Like this, here.” Thwack! “Let’s get another bucket.” Thwack!

When she was away at work, I would sneak over to the practice range with those women’s clubs and practice hitting bucket after bucket, until my fingers blistered. Weeks later, we went to the practice field, and the guy in the cage said my name aloud, and asked how I was doing. Hmmm? Must have me confused with somebody else I said. Then the guy next to us (golf trophy guy) on the practice tees waved at me and asked how I was doing through his cigarette smoke. I finally confessed my secret trips to the practice field and adjacent 9 hole, Par 3 course.

I played my first round with a guy who invited me to his club. I played with those hand me down clubs, with that old blue bag, balls I “found” on the driving range, and a brand new pair of golf cleats, stiff leathered, metal spiked, kiltie flap and all, and a new glove (my first). I beat the guy my first round out, 99 on my first outing. He was miffed, he had never broken 100, said I was lying that I had never been on a golf course before. He never called me again. Within a year I was breaking 90 with those clubs.

That girl bought me my first set of clubs for Christmas so we could play together. The clubs were a png knock off package set that I cherished and played incessantly. Then my girlfriend left me. I kept the clubs. I was miserable, upset, confused. But, I made friends with this quiet, petite, dark haired, hazel-eyed, gal who could see I was mending a broken heart. She saw my golf clubs in the car and asked if I would like to play sometime. Sure. She was good, I mean really good, held her finish like golf trophy guy too. We played every chance we could. I was breaking 80 by then. We drove to the golf shop together, and I got fitted with my first set of legitimate clubs, png EYE 2’s. I picked out my first putter, a shiny brass Bullseye (still have it and it still shines on my golf rack). I was a real golfer.

Then one day, she asked me to play at her family course, Whitemarsh Valley Country Club outside Philly, a George C. Thomas, Jr. design - Wow, what a course, still at the top of my list of all time favorites. Thirty years later, and dozens of golf sets later, that cute new gal is still with me, and I adore and cherish her now more than ever. Thank god she and her expansive golfing family (who all took me in) love the game as much as I do. She carries a 10 hcp and I, a +2.

You know what, that girl that introduced me to the game was right, you can compete with the HCP system, and mercy do we ever.

I’m still sneaking out to the practice range hitting balls until my hands blister, only now it’s with the latest clubs I’ve obsessed over and I can hit as many balls as the boys can bring me. I play new Titleist balls, not range balls. The kiltie shoes and steel spikes are gone. And now I’m one of the old guys on the course - mumbling and cursing.

Life is full of twists and turns, ups and downs, and rarely works out as you might think. Sometimes those heartaches turn into something unimaginably wonderful, and those chance meetings turn into lifelong partners.

Thank you blonde girl, you broke my heart, but you gave me two of the greatest loves in life.