He was part of thegrounds crew for Mellon Country Club. He enjoyed neing and workingoutside, making the golf course look as picturesque as a Rembrand....Today was just as draining, dealing with the members. It just seemedlike all of the golfers were in a mood as bad as the timekeeping of aimitation Rolex. The man relaxing by partaking in his favorite vice,eating a Butterfinger bar, just knew their mood were overreactions.They should be more like him, being happy with what they had insteadof. On the drive in, he'd actually expected his wife to be happy about his on time arrival. Instead, she fumed at him from across the room. "The cookout is tomorrow," he muttered."And why are we having the cookout?" she asked. "This doesn't surprise me at all. My mother always said, 'Marie, that boy is nothing but forgetful. He'll only ever remember what's important to him and before you know it that won't be you.' And look, here you are, coming in at eight without the slightest idea of why I'm. More

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