The Woodholme Years: A Place Where I Must Honestly Say I Grew Up

Image taken from the 10th Hole Fairway over looking the 1oth Hole Aternative Putting Green

Sometime around early spring in 1992 a childhood friend Micheal Davis gave me a tip about a part time job in Pikesville, Maryland. He told me it’s a lot of walking involved, but that the gig paid good money. The good money part was very interesting to me, besides I was a 26 year old punk kid with a 4 year old son. I had a mouth to feed. I agreed to go with him one weekend to make some quick cash. We would rise early morning that Saturday around 5:30 a.m. and arrived at the Woodholme Country Club at 6:20 a.m. to meet the Boss Charlie Manion. Manion had been the Club’s Caddy Master since 1952. I met with Charlie and he tells me the dos and don’ts while I’m on the job. So an hour or so passes by then I am called for a group to Tee Off. They hustle me to the first Tee, assign me to 2 Golf Bags that must have weighed 60 pounds each easily (the old Leather style Golf Bags). The group Tees off and as we began to trek down the 1rst Hole Fairway, I instantly began to wonder what the hell I had got my self into. I was way behind the rest of the group, holding the Golf Round up actually. The guy I am working with, Eddie Singletary says to me, ‘”Listen Dave I know this is your first time out, but you have to step up your pace or your going to fuck up our money”. I didn’t want to be blamed for somebody not getting paid the way they should be paid so I dig in, suckde it up, and began to move much faster. By the time we arrived onto the 3rd Hole Green I was literally dieing. Hyperventilating and every damn thing. I was in such bad shape that they asked me if I was sick. I was able to convince them that I was fine and the group played on. As we were going down the 15th Hole Fairway another Caddy named Glenn asked Eddie, “how is the new guy doing?’. Eddie looked at me and looked at Glenn and said, “Man he is green as that Fairway out there.” They both began laughing at me, but I kept moving, and  I crawled to the 18th Hole’s green and was so excited that it was finally over. I stood there thinking to myself, I am a College Educated man, this is beneath me, and I will never do anything like this again. I began to walk toward the Pro Shop to turn in score Cards when somebody yelled, “Hey don’t you want to get paid?” I turned around reluctantly, looked back, and started walking toward them to collect my cash. I was out of there buddy. I didn’t even want the damn money, because I was too tired to walk back and get paid. So, as I walk up to the Members the two guys whose bags I carried handed me 2 $100 dollar bills each ($400 bucks). My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. I began thinking to my self that in just 31/2 hours work here I could pay my damn Car Note. This might workout after all I thought to myself, but then reality set in that in just a little over 12 hours I’d have to be back here ready to Tee off again. I didn’t have faith in my physical condition at that age which was 26 years old to get up and go out there and get on my grind. Also, after that I’d have to get some serious sleep, because I was due for work at 7:00 a.m. on my Main job bright and early Monday morning. A few weeks pass by and by now I am probably the most physically exhausted man on the planet. I recall having a conversation with my Dad after asking him was it this hard for him when he was my age. This is what he said to me: “Oh yeah, it was much harder. You ain’t seen shit yet son. All of you College Educated guys kill me. You think because you sit on your ass for 4 years getting a Degree that life is suppose to be easy for you when you get out here in the real world. Boy you will work harder than this, you watch and see what I tell you. Son your education only says one thing about you, that’s that your teachable, and nothing more. It doesn’t matter Son what kind of Job you have when you have kids.” I realized what my Father was telling me. His message was loud and clear to me. It brought understanding to what he had been telling me over and over again for years, ” A Man that wants to work will never have a problem finding a job.” Meaning that a real Man with responsibilities will take any job if he has to, to provide for his family. My Dad gave me motivation to go out there and get on my grind so I could handle my personal business. The first few years at Woodholme were kind of rough for me as I learned this game called Golf, but after about 6 years on this part time job, I became a household name at the Club. I had more and more members requesting for me to be on their bag (carry their bag, give them distance, wind readings, fill divots with grass seed, rake sand traps, and give them advice on what clubs to play). some times I had to chuckle to my self though, because here I was at a Jewish culture Country Club advising some of the riches Men in the State on their Golf games. I mean there were some High Rollers too, like Boogie Wineglass of the Merry Go Round chain, famed Colts Quarterback Johnny Unitas, Jim Palmer, Steven L. Miles, Ozzie Newsome (One of 3 Black members, only for the purpose of Baltimore Ravens connections I suspect), and the list goes on and on. Some of these guys paid very well, but with the good came a lot of bad. There were some of these guys out there that were complete assholes that took shit out on their Caddy because they were having a bad golf round. I remember one time a member had a guest from Great Britain playing in his group that insisted that we call him Master. Now I was cultured enough to know that in his native country that this is the equivalent of saying Mr., but fuck that, this was America. So, when he began to make a big deal about it, we left the entire group’s bags in the middle of the 5th Hole Fairway and began walking back to the Pro Shop. The Club Pro Barry Furman wanted to fire us, but Charlie Manion had this look of puzzlement on his face. Charlie knew he had 2 of his best Caddies on this group, that the group paid extremely well, and knew that it had to be something very bad for us to just walk off the course like that. Barry got the call from the Member’s Group that their Caddies had abandoned them and came into the Bag Room yelling and screaming, telling Charlie he wanted us gone, and that the Club has been embarrassed. Charlie ignores Barry and said to us, “Ok, guys what happen out there.” We told him about the guest ‘ insistence that we call him Master. Charlie nods his head and says, “Ok  I’ll take care of it guys.” We never heard the slightest peep about that shit ever again. One thing I could honestly say about Charlie Manion is that he looked out for his guys. If a Member stiffed you for your Money, Charlie would go to the Club President and make sure the guy was Billed on his tab, or if the guy who stiffed you was a guest, Charlie would find out what Member sponsored the guy, and he would be billed. They didn’t fuck around with Charlie Manion, because nearly 3/4 of the Club Members liked him, and knew Charlie since they were kids. If Barry Furman gave any Caddy some shit Charlie would go to the Club President and have the matter squashed. Barry used to try and make all kinds of waves for us, but members didn’t like him, because they have always felt that he was fucking them with High Priced Pro Shop items, always hired the most expensive Golf Trainer ($150 a hour), and generally thought that Barry was an asshole. I recall one time I had a group on the 1rst tee when Barry was having his ass handed to him by a Member. I don’t recall what the problem was, but I overheard the Member say to Barry, “Barry your not just an asshole, your a complete ass.” Everyone in listening distance fell out in laughter. That’s the way it was around the Club House as far back as I can remember. You learn very quickly at Woodholme though, because many of the groups I took around the course were Members that were either an Attorney or a Judge. you had to see and don’t see, hear and don’t hear, and conduct yourself like the three monkeys my grandmother used to have on here table. See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil, because there were a lot of backdoor deals brokered on those Greens and down those Fairways at Woodholme. I won’t get into specifics for obvious reasons, but I learned a lot about how this world really operates. I was given the most expensive Cigars, tickets to all kinds of Sporting Events, sat in their Club Houses at M&T Bank Stadium and Camden Yards, given discounts at all of the Major Men Clothing stores around town, and the perks just went on and on. Hell, it’s only right that we had it so good. We worked through blood and sweat for these guys, and they owned every damn thing you could imagine so it was right there for us. If you had a family member that needed a job, you could go to a Member that you knew owned a business and get them a job. What ever you do, don’t send them some worthless ass piece of shit family member though, because it would get around the Club and you could never get a Member to hire a family member again. There were guys that I worked with who had bad ass kids who would get into trouble a lot, and all they had to do was go to certain Lawyers and it would be taken care of. The Lawyer would find out the kid’s name, find out what Judge was hearing the Case, and they would have lunch one day. Next thing you know, the kid’s troubles are over. That’s how it always worked I shit you not. Some of the Caddies have Members that they have worked for, for over 30 years. Like my friend Rudy, who worked for a Lawyer named Howard Goldman. When Rudy’s Son was killed in West Baltimore years ago, not only was Howard Goldman and his wife at the kid’s funeral, but he paid for everything. In some ways it was almost a blessing for me to have experience this at Woodholme, because I could clearly see the difference in Class. I learned how the Rich plays the game, and how the poor are really fucked in the ass on a regular basis. If you ever heard the saying, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” there has never been anymore real shit ever said than that cliche right there.  One day it all came tumbling down. I arrived at the Club House one Saturday morning to all kinds of new security procedures, and many of the Members were very short with me. I knew something was going down, but I just didn’t know what. I make my way down stairs to the Caddy Lounge and observed all of the guys gathered around one of the tables in a large circle like an official meeting was taking place. I thought to myself, nobody told me there was a meeting, but as I listened I discovered that there was no meeting. I kept hearing the name Omar over and over again, so I thought the worst, and thought that something seriously tragic had happened to him. I was correct about the serious part, as I listened and learned that he was arrested for embezzling nearly a million dollars from Attorney Leonard Grossman’s Firm. I don’t think the shock about Omar being arrested is actually what people were discussing. Omar Grant was a long time Woodholme Country Club Employee, that is up until the time he graduated from the University of Maryland with a Degree in Accounting. Omar like many others that have traveled down the narrow whinding road, through the Wooping Willows, and the Multi Million Dollar Homes that make up the scenic backdrop approaching the Links and other Sporting Facilities that makeup this exclusive Jewish Retreat called Woodholme, is where he started out as a Caddy working for Leonard Grossman. Mr G took such a liking to a young Omar at that time, that he hired the guy to work full time at one of his business’. Later on he would send Omar off to College, in what would seem like a made for T.V. story about a Rich White Man paying for a poor Black Kid from the ghetto Education. Omar would excel at College Park Maryland, and upon his graduation he immediately came to work for Mr. Grossman. Omar had become such a trustee with the Grossman Firm that he had authority to sign checks from the Company’s Account. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end for a lucky little street kid from the Park Heights section of West Baltimore. When the smoke cleared and all was said and done, nearly $900,000 dollars was said to have been stolen in a scheme that resulted in the prosecution and indictment of Omar Grant, his Wife, his Mother-in-Law, and his Grand Mother! These were very sad times around the Club House. Nobody trusted Black Caddies anymore. We still got the occasional tickets to the Baltimore Orioles, and Ravens games, but a lot changed. Members were afraid to hire family members related to the Caddies or any Country Club Employee for that matter.

[slideshow]

Images of the 10th Hole Fairway, and 13th Hole Putting Green

Now if your Kid got into trouble, a favor that usually just required a simple meeting of the minds with the presiding Judge in the Case, now required a fee. There are those that say Black Ass Omar Grant made it really hard for a lot of people back then, but there were  others that betrayed the Club’s Trust as well. There was Gregg the so called Top Gun Caddy if you will. Gregg was highly like by all of Woodholme, especially the Women Members of the Club. However, what had been common knowledge for those who knew Gregg, would now be revealed in the  most embarrassing fashion, that the Boy Wonder had a serious Heroin addiction.  One Winter night doing the off season Gregg was on the streets in Jewish Pikesville, looking to get some cash for a fix, but ended up snatching some old Jewish Woman’s purse. When they caught up with Gregg, he was sitting in a local Pub drinking with the lady’s purse setting on his lap. This made the local paper and it didn’t set well with the Jewish Faithful at Woodholme, but I assume because he was White they felt sorry for him and classified his crime the result of a sickness. Gregg still works at Woodholme to this day. Through all the good and the Bad at Woodholme, I can honestly say that I grew up rubbing elbows with some of the wealthiest people in Maryland. I am reminded though that no street guy like Omar Grant was ever granted that much Trust again by the Woodholme Community. The lessons that I learned revealed to me that a friend is a friend is a friend. How dare you betray a friend in the most cunning and calculated fashion. It doesn’t matter what the color of the skin of a person, because the same ills that make people in one community commit crimes, there are simalar stories that can be told on the other side of the tracks. While I missed the nice perks, access to play Golf on one of the most exclusive Courses in Maryland, the many friends I met, and shared laughs with, I take with me some very encouraging words.  “Honesty, Loyalty, and Integrity will carry you a long way in life” — The late Willie Adams

I remember the last day I drove off the Woodholme Country Club’s grounds. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw a Black Lincoln Navigator drive by, and the Driver beeped his horn at me and waved. That was Ozzie Newsome, Vice President of Player Personnel for the Baltimore Ravens. When my car was on the blink Ozzie had given me a many a ride up that long road so I could catch the subway back to East Baltimore.  I drove down that long road and as I neared the 7th Hole Fairway, I saw old man Eddie Singletary leading his group up the approach to the Green. I looked back and saw a young kid struggling with with a Golf Bag. Then suddenly Eddie looked at me, looked at the kid, and said, “Hey David who is that?” as if to say, I remember when I taught you this job and you were struggling just like that kid is back there.. I smiled at Eddie and yelled to him, “how is he doing?” Eddie said to me, “He is green as that Fairway back there, remember?” We both began to laugh, he waved goodbye, and I drove off fighting a tear coming down my left cheek. I thought to myself how fast does time fly. 13 years had passed and I was now a man!

In Loving memory of my Dad!

David Adams

Self proclaimed geek, Advocate for the homeless, Social Change, Crime Blogger, and mobile technology enthusiast. Recognized journalist and Human Interest Writer championing the plight of the masses whom are without a voice of their own.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInGoogle Plus

Image taken from the 10th Hole Fairway over looking the 1oth Hole Aternative Putting Green

Sometime around early spring in 1992 a childhood friend Micheal Davis gave me a tip about a part time job in Pikesville, Maryland. He told me it’s a lot of walking involved, but that the gig paid good money. The good money part was very interesting to me, besides I was a 26 year old punk kid with a 4 year old son. I had a mouth to feed. I agreed to go with him one weekend to make some quick cash. We would rise early morning that Saturday around 5:30 a.m. and arrived at the Woodholme Country Club at 6:20 a.m. to meet the Boss Charlie Manion. Manion had been the Club’s Caddy Master since 1952. I met with Charlie and he tells me the dos and don’ts while I’m on the job. So an hour or so passes by then I am called for a group to Tee Off. They hustle me to the first Tee, assign me to 2 Golf Bags that must have weighed 60 pounds each easily (the old Leather style Golf Bags). The group Tees off and as we began to trek down the 1rst Hole Fairway, I instantly began to wonder what the hell I had got my self into. I was way behind the rest of the group, holding the Golf Round up actually. The guy I am working with, Eddie Singletary says to me, ‘”Listen Dave I know this is your first time out, but you have to step up your pace or your going to fuck up our money”. I didn’t want to be blamed for somebody not getting paid the way they should be paid so I dig in, suckde it up, and began to move much faster. By the time we arrived onto the 3rd Hole Green I was literally dieing. Hyperventilating and every damn thing. I was in such bad shape that they asked me if I was sick. I was able to convince them that I was fine and the group played on. As we were going down the 15th Hole Fairway another Caddy named Glenn asked Eddie, “how is the new guy doing?’. Eddie looked at me and looked at Glenn and said, “Man he is green as that Fairway out there.” They both began laughing at me, but I kept moving, and  I crawled to the 18th Hole’s green and was so excited that it was finally over. I stood there thinking to myself, I am a College Educated man, this is beneath me, and I will never do anything like this again. I began to walk toward the Pro Shop to turn in score Cards when somebody yelled, “Hey don’t you want to get paid?” I turned around reluctantly, looked back, and started walking toward them to collect my cash. I was out of there buddy. I didn’t even want the damn money, because I was too tired to walk back and get paid. So, as I walk up to the Members the two guys whose bags I carried handed me 2 $100 dollar bills each ($400 bucks). My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. I began thinking to my self that in just 31/2 hours work here I could pay my damn Car Note. This might workout after all I thought to myself, but then reality set in that in just a little over 12 hours I’d have to be back here ready to Tee off again. I didn’t have faith in my physical condition at that age which was 26 years old to get up and go out there and get on my grind. Also, after that I’d have to get some serious sleep, because I was due for work at 7:00 a.m. on my Main job bright and early Monday morning. A few weeks pass by and by now I am probably the most physically exhausted man on the planet. I recall having a conversation with my Dad after asking him was it this hard for him when he was my age. This is what he said to me: “Oh yeah, it was much harder. You ain’t seen shit yet son. All of you College Educated guys kill me. You think because you sit on your ass for 4 years getting a Degree that life is suppose to be easy for you when you get out here in the real world. Boy you will work harder than this, you watch and see what I tell you. Son your education only says one thing about you, that’s that your teachable, and nothing more. It doesn’t matter Son what kind of Job you have when you have kids.” I realized what my Father was telling me. His message was loud and clear to me. It brought understanding to what he had been telling me over and over again for years, ” A Man that wants to work will never have a problem finding a job.” Meaning that a real Man with responsibilities will take any job if he has to, to provide for his family. My Dad gave me motivation to go out there and get on my grind so I could handle my personal business. The first few years at Woodholme were kind of rough for me as I learned this game called Golf, but after about 6 years on this part time job, I became a household name at the Club. I had more and more members requesting for me to be on their bag (carry their bag, give them distance, wind readings, fill divots with grass seed, rake sand traps, and give them advice on what clubs to play). some times I had to chuckle to my self though, because here I was at a Jewish culture Country Club advising some of the riches Men in the State on their Golf games. I mean there were some High Rollers too, like Boogie Wineglass of the Merry Go Round chain, famed Colts Quarterback Johnny Unitas, Jim Palmer, Steven L. Miles, Ozzie Newsome (One of 3 Black members, only for the purpose of Baltimore Ravens connections I suspect), and the list goes on and on. Some of these guys paid very well, but with the good came a lot of bad. There were some of these guys out there that were complete assholes that took shit out on their Caddy because they were having a bad golf round. I remember one time a member had a guest from Great Britain playing in his group that insisted that we call him Master. Now I was cultured enough to know that in his native country that this is the equivalent of saying Mr., but fuck that, this was America. So, when he began to make a big deal about it, we left the entire group’s bags in the middle of the 5th Hole Fairway and began walking back to the Pro Shop. The Club Pro Barry Furman wanted to fire us, but Charlie Manion had this look of puzzlement on his face. Charlie knew he had 2 of his best Caddies on this group, that the group paid extremely well, and knew that it had to be something very bad for us to just walk off the course like that. Barry got the call from the Member’s Group that their Caddies had abandoned them and came into the Bag Room yelling and screaming, telling Charlie he wanted us gone, and that the Club has been embarrassed. Charlie ignores Barry and said to us, “Ok, guys what happen out there.” We told him about the guest ‘ insistence that we call him Master. Charlie nods his head and says, “Ok  I’ll take care of it guys.” We never heard the slightest peep about that shit ever again. One thing I could honestly say about Charlie Manion is that he looked out for his guys. If a Member stiffed you for your Money, Charlie would go to the Club President and make sure the guy was Billed on his tab, or if the guy who stiffed you was a guest, Charlie would find out what Member sponsored the guy, and he would be billed. They didn’t fuck around with Charlie Manion, because nearly 3/4 of the Club Members liked him, and knew Charlie since they were kids. If Barry Furman gave any Caddy some shit Charlie would go to the Club President and have the matter squashed. Barry used to try and make all kinds of waves for us, but members didn’t like him, because they have always felt that he was fucking them with High Priced Pro Shop items, always hired the most expensive Golf Trainer ($150 a hour), and generally thought that Barry was an asshole. I recall one time I had a group on the 1rst tee when Barry was having his ass handed to him by a Member. I don’t recall what the problem was, but I overheard the Member say to Barry, “Barry your not just an asshole, your a complete ass.” Everyone in listening distance fell out in laughter. That’s the way it was around the Club House as far back as I can remember. You learn very quickly at Woodholme though, because many of the groups I took around the course were Members that were either an Attorney or a Judge. you had to see and don’t see, hear and don’t hear, and conduct yourself like the three monkeys my grandmother used to have on here table. See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil, because there were a lot of backdoor deals brokered on those Greens and down those Fairways at Woodholme. I won’t get into specifics for obvious reasons, but I learned a lot about how this world really operates. I was given the most expensive Cigars, tickets to all kinds of Sporting Events, sat in their Club Houses at M&T Bank Stadium and Camden Yards, given discounts at all of the Major Men Clothing stores around town, and the perks just went on and on. Hell, it’s only right that we had it so good. We worked through blood and sweat for these guys, and they owned every damn thing you could imagine so it was right there for us. If you had a family member that needed a job, you could go to a Member that you knew owned a business and get them a job. What ever you do, don’t send them some worthless ass piece of shit family member though, because it would get around the Club and you could never get a Member to hire a family member again. There were guys that I worked with who had bad ass kids who would get into trouble a lot, and all they had to do was go to certain Lawyers and it would be taken care of. The Lawyer would find out the kid’s name, find out what Judge was hearing the Case, and they would have lunch one day. Next thing you know, the kid’s troubles are over. That’s how it always worked I shit you not. Some of the Caddies have Members that they have worked for, for over 30 years. Like my friend Rudy, who worked for a Lawyer named Howard Goldman. When Rudy’s Son was killed in West Baltimore years ago, not only was Howard Goldman and his wife at the kid’s funeral, but he paid for everything. In some ways it was almost a blessing for me to have experience this at Woodholme, because I could clearly see the difference in Class. I learned how the Rich plays the game, and how the poor are really fucked in the ass on a regular basis. If you ever heard the saying, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” there has never been anymore real shit ever said than that cliche right there.  One day it all came tumbling down. I arrived at the Club House one Saturday morning to all kinds of new security procedures, and many of the Members were very short with me. I knew something was going down, but I just didn’t know what. I make my way down stairs to the Caddy Lounge and observed all of the guys gathered around one of the tables in a large circle like an official meeting was taking place. I thought to myself, nobody told me there was a meeting, but as I listened I discovered that there was no meeting. I kept hearing the name Omar over and over again, so I thought the worst, and thought that something seriously tragic had happened to him. I was correct about the serious part, as I listened and learned that he was arrested for embezzling nearly a million dollars from Attorney Leonard Grossman’s Firm. I don’t think the shock about Omar being arrested is actually what people were discussing. Omar Grant was a long time Woodholme Country Club Employee, that is up until the time he graduated from the University of Maryland with a Degree in Accounting. Omar like many others that have traveled down the narrow whinding road, through the Wooping Willows, and the Multi Million Dollar Homes that make up the scenic backdrop approaching the Links and other Sporting Facilities that makeup this exclusive Jewish Retreat called Woodholme, is where he started out as a Caddy working for Leonard Grossman. Mr G took such a liking to a young Omar at that time, that he hired the guy to work full time at one of his business’. Later on he would send Omar off to College, in what would seem like a made for T.V. story about a Rich White Man paying for a poor Black Kid from the ghetto Education. Omar would excel at College Park Maryland, and upon his graduation he immediately came to work for Mr. Grossman. Omar had become such a trustee with the Grossman Firm that he had authority to sign checks from the Company’s Account. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end for a lucky little street kid from the Park Heights section of West Baltimore. When the smoke cleared and all was said and done, nearly $900,000 dollars was said to have been stolen in a scheme that resulted in the prosecution and indictment of Omar Grant, his Wife, his Mother-in-Law, and his Grand Mother! These were very sad times around the Club House. Nobody trusted Black Caddies anymore. We still got the occasional tickets to the Baltimore Orioles, and Ravens games, but a lot changed. Members were afraid to hire family members related to the Caddies or any Country Club Employee for that matter.

[slideshow]

Images of the 10th Hole Fairway, and 13th Hole Putting Green

Now if your Kid got into trouble, a favor that usually just required a simple meeting of the minds with the presiding Judge in the Case, now required a fee. There are those that say Black Ass Omar Grant made it really hard for a lot of people back then, but there were  others that betrayed the Club’s Trust as well. There was Gregg the so called Top Gun Caddy if you will. Gregg was highly like by all of Woodholme, especially the Women Members of the Club. However, what had been common knowledge for those who knew Gregg, would now be revealed in the  most embarrassing fashion, that the Boy Wonder had a serious Heroin addiction.  One Winter night doing the off season Gregg was on the streets in Jewish Pikesville, looking to get some cash for a fix, but ended up snatching some old Jewish Woman’s purse. When they caught up with Gregg, he was sitting in a local Pub drinking with the lady’s purse setting on his lap. This made the local paper and it didn’t set well with the Jewish Faithful at Woodholme, but I assume because he was White they felt sorry for him and classified his crime the result of a sickness. Gregg still works at Woodholme to this day. Through all the good and the Bad at Woodholme, I can honestly say that I grew up rubbing elbows with some of the wealthiest people in Maryland. I am reminded though that no street guy like Omar Grant was ever granted that much Trust again by the Woodholme Community. The lessons that I learned revealed to me that a friend is a friend is a friend. How dare you betray a friend in the most cunning and calculated fashion. It doesn’t matter what the color of the skin of a person, because the same ills that make people in one community commit crimes, there are simalar stories that can be told on the other side of the tracks. While I missed the nice perks, access to play Golf on one of the most exclusive Courses in Maryland, the many friends I met, and shared laughs with, I take with me some very encouraging words.  “Honesty, Loyalty, and Integrity will carry you a long way in life” — The late Willie Adams

I remember the last day I drove off the Woodholme Country Club’s grounds. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw a Black Lincoln Navigator drive by, and the Driver beeped his horn at me and waved. That was Ozzie Newsome, Vice President of Player Personnel for the Baltimore Ravens. When my car was on the blink Ozzie had given me a many a ride up that long road so I could catch the subway back to East Baltimore.  I drove down that long road and as I neared the 7th Hole Fairway, I saw old man Eddie Singletary leading his group up the approach to the Green. I looked back and saw a young kid struggling with with a Golf Bag. Then suddenly Eddie looked at me, looked at the kid, and said, “Hey David who is that?” as if to say, I remember when I taught you this job and you were struggling just like that kid is back there.. I smiled at Eddie and yelled to him, “how is he doing?” Eddie said to me, “He is green as that Fairway back there, remember?” We both began to laugh, he waved goodbye, and I drove off fighting a tear coming down my left cheek. I thought to myself how fast does time fly. 13 years had passed and I was now a man!

In Loving memory of my Dad!

David Adams

Self proclaimed geek, Advocate for the homeless, Social Change, Crime Blogger, and mobile technology enthusiast. Recognized journalist and Human Interest Writer championing the plight of the masses whom are without a voice of their own.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:
TwitterFacebookLinkedInGoogle Plus

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