In my four years here at Cornell, my father and I have religiously observed the strangest Thanksgiving tradition. Call it the Jones Family Turkey Bowl. Every year, on the Friday after Turkey Day, my dad and I head out for a torrid nine holes of golf.
That’s right, on the last weekend in November, the Big Guy and I head over to our local links and engage in our ceremonial last round of the year. The implications run thick, as the winner will have bragging rights ’till the following spring. It’s important, it’s serious, and most of all, it’s wicked cold.
Under dozens of layers of clothing, my partner in obsession and I try our darnest to polish our swing plane one last time. Us vs. the Elements