When our oldest son, Spock, was six he received a gift from his great grandma (who we call “MawMaw”). A master of garage sales, she found and gave Spock a child’s golf set. We are not golfers, but he enjoyed putting around the yard. We lost the set during our move to Michigan. Spock would periodically ask about it but, this spring, his questions increased dramatically. “Honestly, Bud, I have no idea. I looked in the basement with the things that I (still) haven’t sorted through from the move. Maybe it’s in the garage somewhere with Dad’s stuff.” It wasn’t.
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