Tommy Bolt, winner of the 1958 US Open, tells the story of an incident he had during one of his golf tournaments. Bolt arrived at the golf course for the tournament and was approached by a youngster, "Mr. Bolt, do you need a caddy, sir?"
Bolt went to the caddy master and asked about the youngster. The man said, "He's a real good caddy, knows the course, the greens, and the rules of the game. But he talks a lot."
So Bolt went back to the youngster and said, "You can caddy for me on one condition, 'Don't say a word.'"
The young man accepted and carried Bolt's bag. The first three rounds went well, and Bolt was in contention in the fourth round, when an errant tee shot landed in the rough. The ball was sitting down in a bad patch of turf, with a difficult shot to the green which was well guarded by water on the right.
Bolt asked his caddy, "You think a five iron will do the trick?" The kid shook his head no, but never said a word.
"What, you want me to hit a six iron?" Again, the kid shook his head no, but did not speak.
Bolt grabbed a six iron and lashed the ball out of the rough and landed on the green, rolling to within three feet of the hole. As they walked to the green, Bolt said, "Aren't you going to say something now, after seeing a shot like that?"
His caddy then replied, "Mr. Bolt, that wasn't your ball."
On a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon my buddy and I stood on the first tee of our Golf Club. He had just pulled out his driver when a young woman in a wedding dress came running up to him, crying.
She slaps him in the face, turns, and runs away.
My buddy turns to me and says calmly, "I don't know what her problem is. I distinctly told her only if it rained."
It was August and the Indians on a remote reservation asked their new Chief if the coming winter was going to be cold or mild. Since he was a Chief in a modern society he had never been taught he old secrets. When he looked at the sky he couldn't tell what the winter was going to be like.
Nevertheless, to be on the safe side he told his tribe that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the village should collect firewood to be prepared.
But being a practical leader, after several days he got an idea. He went to the phone booth, called the National Weather Service and asked, "Is the coming winter going to be cold?"
"It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold," the meteorologist at the weather service responded.
So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more firewood in order to be prepared.
A week later he called the National Weather Service again. "Does it still look like it is going to be a very cold winter?"
"Yes," the man at National Weather Service again replied, "it's going to be a very very cold winter."
The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of firewood they could. The new chief every week or so calls the National Weather Service and receives the same answer. "How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked.
The weatherman replied, "We're sure it's going to be cold because the Indians are collecting firewood like crazy!"
I saw a pen in a store the other day. I picked it up and took a look at it because it was prettier than most. The clerk said, "It's made in Germany."
I said, "That's too bad, I can't use it then."
The clerk said, "What's the matter? You don't like German pens?"
I said, "No, that's not it. I just never learned to write German."