I lived with my grandparents two of my four summers while in college. Often, there were big generation gaps as I was still becoming an adult and learning how to appreciate them as adults.

But I remember watching golf with my grandfather on Saturday mornings on a few occasions. He had about 3,000 golf balls in his basement that he had collected with his dog Rachel at the golf course around the Rose Bowl near where they lived. And in his later years, after having played golf daily in his prime, he would pay for 9 holes and the only play holes 3-8. He said that was all his knees could handle.

Sitting here with Isa watching Tiger Woods prepare for his umpteenth major victory, I miss my grandfather.

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