Mystic River
“Every twenty units formed a section, and each section had its own pool and a recreational center where they held dances on Saturday nights. A small, par-three golf course stretched around the outer edge of the complex like a fallen slice of crescent moon, and from late spring until early autumn the air hummed with the buzz of cart engines.
Sean’s father didn’t play golf. He’d long ago decided it was a rich man’s game and to take it up would represent some form of betrayal to his blue-collar... roots. Sean’s mother had tried it for a while, though, and then gave it up because she’d believed her companions secretly laughed at her form, her slight brogue, and her clothing.
So they lived here quietly and, for the most part, friendless, though Sean knew his father had struck up an acquaintanceship with a small Irish plug of a guy named Riley who’d also lived in one of the city’s neighborhoods before coming to Wingate. Riley, who had no use for golf either, would occasionally join Sean’s father for drinks at the Ground Round on the other side of Route 28.MoreLess
Sean’s father didn’t play golf. He’d long ago decided it was a rich man’s game and to take it up would represent some form of betrayal to his blue-collar... roots. Sean’s mother had tried it for a while, though, and then gave it up because she’d believed her companions secretly laughed at her form, her slight brogue, and her clothing.
So they lived here quietly and, for the most part, friendless, though Sean knew his father had struck up an acquaintanceship with a small Irish plug of a guy named Riley who’d also lived in one of the city’s neighborhoods before coming to Wingate. Riley, who had no use for golf either, would occasionally join Sean’s father for drinks at the Ground Round on the other side of Route 28.MoreLess
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