My first entry into
The Masters came in 1964 at age 17. And while it wasn't down
Magnolia Lane, it definitely was down
Memory Lane...
You could buy tickets by mail in those days -- if you got your letter in early enough -- but I hadn't done that, and they had since sold out. So, bright and early on opening Thursday, I parked my little Bahama Blue Volkswagon off the side of the road near the back of the course and followed the seven-foot chain-link fence until I was out of public view. Feeling safe, I found a good spot and climbed over.
Had to wait my turn, though: Two older guys (in their late 20s) had beat me to the punch and were already boosting their wives -- one a
definite prospect for
Jenny Craig -- over the top.
Once over, we all high-tailed it through the woods like one big happy family -- they were carrying picnic baskets! -- until...like
Dorothy into
The Land of Oz...we found ourselves at the end of
Amen Corner, that sacred ground near the 13th green and 16th tee box. Which, of course, at that time I knew absolutely nothing about.
Whoa!
As we emerged from the tall pines, there before us bursting with color lay the bright green panorama that is the
Augusta National Golf Club! Having absolutely no idea where I was -- that would change! -- I began the long walk uphill that would take me to the Clubhouse.
There are defining moments in life, those you will always remember where you were and under what circumstances you got the news. Your first visit to Augusta in April is one of those moments.
If you get the chance, go.
You'll never forget it.
I guess I've heard of it, but have definately never seen or eaten one. Sounds tasty, is this a southern thing? 
Hybrid Mode
