My mother’s father was a gamesman. She said he put himself through Princeton with his poker winnings. Summers we used to play golf after we picked him up from the Cannonball Express Friday evenings. Part of the Maidstone Club’s short course was over a stile at the edge of our lawn. We could play three holes in a triangle bringing us back to the stile in time for dinner. Grandpa had three clubs – a wood for driving, a putter and a club with a face that could change angle from, I suppose, a two iron to a nine iron. He rented wooden jigsaw puzzles from our local library. We put them together. The time was 1940.