Last week during our Thursday round of golf, my buddy mentioned that he saw Mac, an older gentleman we used to play with.

Mac was in his mid-80s, and you didn’t want to bet the guy. He had that old-man short game and would usually take your money. I haven’t seen him on the course for a while. He told my friend that he quit just because he couldn’t swing the club anymore.

This got me thinking. I wonder if he knew his last round was going to be his last round.

Usually, that type of thing sneaks up on us. Our last hike is sure to be followed by another, but then our knees speak up and say, “That’s it, buddy, we’re out.” That get-together with a friend might have more importance later on. I think the big difference between our last anything and next anything is the lack of knowledge and cer

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