He loved golf. Golf didn’t always love him. He was a lefty. He could hit good shots, and he could hit astonishingly, amazingly bad ones. His duck-hooks are legendary. His ball would scream off his tee like a rocket, then about a hundred yards later, scream abruptly 90 degrees to its right to who knows where. This seemed to surprise him. It never surprised us. A regular church-goer, he accepted the preachings of God on Sundays. On a golf course, he lectured the Lord back. To no apparent avail.