Today's Reading
"Geezus," Buddy said. "I didn't see you there."
"I saw you," said the old man, who wore a USS Higbee DD-806 baseball cap. "You a golfer?"
"Not really."
"You were looking at those clubs like you were a golfer."
"My dad likes to play."
"You don't?"
"Used to, but I sort of gave up the game."
"Were you any good?"
"Decent. Better than my dad."
"Maybe he needs an equipment change, eh?" the old man said, gesturing toward the strapless bag. "You didn't look in that one."
"Yeah, that's OK. The others were kinda outdated."
"Hell, so am I," the old man said as he removed his cap and wiped his forehead with his forearm.
"What's a Higbee DD-806?" Buddy said, pointing at the cap.
The old man examined the ship silhouette above its bill.
"You know anything about the U.S. Navy?" he said.
"Not really."
He tossed the cap to Buddy.
"I was a machinist's mate on the Higbee during my tour in Vietnam. The DD is navy language for a destroyer. The 806 was its hull number. She was the first warship in the U.S. Navy to ever be named for a woman, a chief nurse named Lenah Higbee."
"My granddad flew fighters in Vietnam," Buddy said.
"He returned home safely?" the old man said.
"He did. My dad said he never talked about the war."
"That isn't unusual."
"He died of a heart attack a couple of years after I was born. I never had a chance to know him."
"Well, you know of his bravery."
"I guess I do. You survived, too."
"It was a war conceived by fools. I had friends who never returned. I was fortunate, as was your grandfather."
Buddy ran his finger across the raised emblem on the back of the hat, which featured a woman holding a trident and bow and with a quiver full of arrows strapped to her side. "What's this about?"
"You need to learn your Greek mythology," the old man said.
"I'm a business major," Buddy said. "Greek mythology doesn't come up much."
"That was the Higbee's logo: 'Goddess of the Hunt.' If you studied the classics, you'd know that was taken from the Greek goddess Artemis.
The Higbee saw service in World War II, Korea, Vietnam. She was decommissioned in '79, sunk as a target in '86. She had a helluva run."
"That's cool," Buddy said. "I mean, not the sinking part, but everything else." He handed back the cap.
"She was a damn good ship," the old man said. Then he pointed toward the fourth golf bag again. "And those are damn good clubs. You'd be wise to give them a look."
"Yeah, OK," Buddy said, hoping to humor the old man and then move on. He pulled a sock off the largest of the woods, expecting to see another dinged-up, second-generation, infomercial-quality metal driver.
It was a driver, but it wasn't metal. In fact, it was unlike anything Buddy had ever seen.
"It's all wood," a surprised Buddy said, carefully removing the club from the bag. "This is a driver?"
"It is," the old man said. "A very special driver."
Buddy, suddenly reverent, turned the clubhead upside down and read from the metal plate screwed flush into its back. "MacGregor Tommy Armour 945W driver," he said. He looked up at the old man. "It looks like it's never been hit."
"It hasn't. Well, that's not exactly true. There was one time..." His voice trailed off.
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