The golf course is so laden with water from hosing down the silt that it is now spawning mushrooms. I have never worked so physically hard in my life, yet the best word I can find to describe my feeling is exhiliaration. My hands hurt and my fingers are sore to the point that I could not grip a club now if I needed to. And this all comes to an end on Tuesday as I begin my cushy job as a starter. And for all this toil and drudgery I will take from it the greatest gift of all–memory. Of all other immanences, such as love or morality, logic or reason, the greatest of all is memory-that force from which our humanity, our loves and lives, proceed. We can survive without morality or logic or reason, but without memory, we haven’t a chance. We are who we are and where we are in no insignificant measure because of immaterial memories. Try this test: Point to love, not the object of love or its espression but the “thing” itself. Or wrap up a carton of courage to send to someone, or give a birthday gift of a box of belief, or pour a heap of invigorating ethics. It can’t be done. Take any concept we live by-fidelity or religion or gravity or any other invisibility that keeps us grounded and snap a photo of it. Can’t be done. That’s why the memories are so important. They’re there in our mind’s eye, a reminder or its importance and nothing can be better than to draw at one’s will upon those memories that make us who we are.