I’ve always been an average golfer. As a teenager I learned the game with my father’s hand-me-down clubs. Dad decided to get some left-handed sticks, as he called them, so he gifted me his right-handed, Ben Hogan woods and Sammy Snead irons. A southpaw in most areas of his life, he may have thought that right-handed golf clubs were the reason for his poor performance on the links.
About the Author
I write personal essays, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, and self-development articles from my home in Madison, Wisconsin.