Sadly, this postcard doesn't include the caddy shack, where I spent too many summer days lolling around and waiting for the chance to lug a golf bag around for one of the Flint elite in exchange for very little money and, typically, lousy tips. But I will give a belated shout out to Jerry Spickler (I may be getting the name wrong after all these years), who I remember as a smart, funny guy who also happened to be a generous tipper.
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