On Christmas Day 1944, my maternal grandfather Fred B. Wulff wrote in the flight journal provided to him by the U.S. Navy that he spent the entire day golfing near the base where he was stationed in Bermuda. It’s the earliest reference we have to my grandpa’s love of golf and it’s my family’s assumption that he picked up the game sometime while serving during World War II. The war ended for him before he had a chance to see combat, but considering he was training to be a ball turret gunner on a B-24, I’m guessing he was OK with that. At any rate, the 45 holes he played that Christmas suggest to me his wartime in Bermuda was time well spent.

After the war, my grandpa came home to Chicago, married my grandma, and became a Union carpenter. He also managed to keep his golf game sharp over the weekends as a member of Gleneagles Country Club in Lemont, Ill., the less expensive option in the area compared to the club across the street (Cog Hill). There, he made lifelong golf buddies that he’d gamble with and win club tournaments with, including several on Thanksgiving where his golfing prowess provided the family's turkey.

I spent a large chunk of my early childhood living with my grandparents and many of my first memories involve putting golf balls in the basement or helping my grandpa clean his clubs while watching the final round of whatever PGA event was on TV. I also remember watching him play in those weekend club tournaments and looking forward to when I’d be old enough to play a meaningful round with him.

I was only 9 years old when he passed in 1987, so while we never got the chance to play a proper round together, the time I did spend with him planted the seed for my own love and respect for the game of golf. I didn’t play my first round until I was 12 years old, but I vividly remember what course it was and how bad I played. I also remember the handful of good shots I had and how instantly addictive a well-struck golf shot can feel. The bag and clubs I used that day were his minus the pitching wedge - we buried that club with him so he could practice chipping on the other side.

When he wasn’t playing golf, he also liked to woodwork as a creative extension of his day job as a carpenter. One of my favorite toys growing up was a replica Civil War musket he made for me out of pine with a detachable bayonet. It's taken me far longer to get interested in woodworking than it did for golf, but now, in my 46th year, I figure better late than never. It’s fitting that my love for golf and budding interest in woodworking now have the opportunity to coalesce through this long-nose clubmaking endeavor under the name I share with my grandpa.

For those of us who are enamored with the game of golf, we recognize and appreciate the lessons that this game can teach us about life and ourselves when we allow it. We also welcome the nostalgic moments that remind us of the loved ones who introduced us to the game in the first place. It’s my hope that the handmade long-nose golf clubs I'm making under the Wulff name will offer not just an opportunity to experience what it was like to play golf in the halcyon days of the featherie and gutta ball eras, but that they’ll also help you connect with the game in a more meaningful way, where the memories you make over the course of the round are more important than the number you write on your scorecard at the end of it.