The Greens are Calling
By J. Kurtz
The return of country club season is always a welcome one. Spring’s thaw has sprung hope in every man with new clubs, even the lightest gambler knowing this is the summer he shaves 3-4 strokes off his game. Last year’s scorecards and behavioral fines have all been forgotten and the Greek columns lining the entryway feel rejuvenating to walk through again. They may not be the biggest or the whitest, but they shine extra bright those first few weeks in May. Oversized leather furniture preens itself in the great rooms, strung out like ships bobbing in harbor. The rich, molasses nature of these chairs does look rather good against club walls painted in “a golfer’s shade of green”. Gaudy anywhere else, but here — it’s the Garden of Eden complete with collared-shirt dress code. At the foot of the spiraling staircase, the dimly lit barroom is still spotless; it has yet to be soaked in cigar smoke or underwhelming drinks ordered in poor attempts to impress. Even the locker rooms carry an air of crispness as the scent of Clubman dances over neatly folded towels. Time rests easy with one hour until tee-time, one hour to remember everything grand about why you are here.