I turned to my love in the dark and whispered, “Do you know who Bobby Jones was?”
She replied with a kiss and a motion something like the great man’s move with the hips.
I watched an old black and white movie with Bobby showing us how it was done.
Hickory shafted woods bending in the great man’s hands mid swing.
The granular film flickered, and his plus four’s flared in the breeze.
A jaunty tune accompanied this Hollywood movie.
A cast of actors enlivened the great golfer’s instructional patter.
A dissection of the swing can be somewhat cold and, best served with comedy.
A leisurely swing with a spoon by Mister Jones, an exercise in grace.
A cocking of the head at address, Bobby’s preferred position at impact.
Meanwhile, her hips were all awry and her middle muddled her attempts at the swing.
His deadpan delivery never faltered or fumbled around the green.
I asked my mother, “Do you know who Bobby Jones was?”
She shuffled closer to her plate in the nursing home dining room.
It kind of reminded me of Bobby’s waggle and leaning in to the ball,
Just before he launched an awesome baffy down the fairway.
Dressed to distinguish a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’.
I asked my Pastor, “Do you know who Bobby Jones was?”
He merely looked up toward the heavens and nodded sagely.
The Masters at Augusta may remind us about the great man from time to time.
But do the children know who Bobby Jones was?