The old golfers at the La Grange Country Club were a strange lot.
I worked as a caddy during weekends in high school, but I was not one of the favored few who got chosen first to take off, doubled bagged, with the big tippers.
Often, I just sat in the caddy shack waiting my turn and observing the old men: lawyers, bankers and business leaders who spent Sundays strolling after their balls, gulping beers and sharing stories of financial adventures.
At 15, I wondered why all these Bermuda-shorted, rich men had no hair on their legs. They were all skinny and shiny from knee to ankle. Many had bald heads, with tufts of hair protruding out of huge ears. Their pants were belted belly-button high, making tucked in shirts look like colorful balloons.
Last month, I returned to the La Grange Country Club. The old golfers look just fine, but those young caddies were a real strange lot.