A wife plays golf with her husband for the first time

For twenty-five years, Gary spent every Saturday at the golf course, and for twenty-five years, his wife Donna asked what was so great about it.

This year, for their anniversary, Donna said, “Take me with you. I want to see.” Gary was thrilled. He bought her a pink glove, gave her his old clubs, and spent the whole drive explaining everything.

On the first tee he walked her through his routine: check the wind, two practice swings, picture the flight of the ball, waggle three times, deep breath. Then he sliced his drive into a pond.

Donna stepped up, swung like she was killing a snake, and the ball bounced, rolled and stopped in the middle of the fairway.

It went on like that all day. Gary studied every putt from four angles and read the grain of the grass. Donna walked up, looked at the hole and hit it. Gary shot 104. Donna shot 89.

On the 18th green she sank a 40-foot putt that broke left, then right, then left again, and dropped in the back of the cup. Gary just stood there holding the flag.

“Donna,” he finally said, “how in the world did you do that?”