I found myself watching the Masters this past Sunday. My mother loved to watch it. Though she had played golf only briefly when younger she loved to watch, and weekend afternoons some tournament often was on the television. The Masters was above all others though, maybe for a Canadian who grew up mesmerized by Gone with the Wind, maybe because of my father being from Georgia, and the azalea, and tall tall Southern trees, and the perfect greens, it was captivating to her as to so many even at a distance….