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For Mark Taylor, My Friend, My Brother Golfer


The sun was shining clear, not a cloud in the sky, the air crisp like it is these spring mornings on the golf course, when it's everybody's first time out this season and spirits are running high and fresh from a winter's layoff. I went alone to the course, like I usually do, like I did the day I met Mark Taylor, more than 15 years ago, paired up then as today with three strangers who, more often than not, become three friends four hours later, on the other side of 18 holes.

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21:19:00 on 04/16/09 by greg - Essay -
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