Three years ago I got a phone call from Les Reynolds, whom I had met in 1988 while doing a story on his accomplishments as a senior amateur golfer. The phone call’s purpose 
threw me. Les, 92 at the time, wanted to know if he could send me some biographical information that might supplement his obituary. His health wasn’t good, and he didn’t think he had much longer to live. A few days later I received a large envelope in the mail that included five typed pages detailing his life, with handwritten notes in the margins. After skimming through it, I filed it away and didn’t give it another thought until a couple days ago when I saw Les’s obit in the paper. He was buried yesterday in his native Jackson County, alongside his wife, Edith, who died in 1999.
Les wanted people to know that he was more than just an accomplished golfer. He was a top-notch engineer, both in the U.S. Navy during World War II (he was an expert on lighting runways for military airfields), and in the private sector. His hobbies and interests included travel, bowling, the Civil War and physical fitness.
But golf, it seemed, brought him the most joy. He didn’t start playing the game until he retired and moved to Lexington in 1969. He shot his age for the first time in 1983 when he was 71. He accomplished the feat more than 130 times over the next 15 years. He finally had to give up playing a few years ago because of glaucoma, but he was still a fan. He attended the Masters 40 times, and said his annual trip to Augusta, Ga., “was better spring tonic than sassafras tea.”
The last paragraph of the obit he sent me three years ago read: “I was blessed with parents who taught me to ‘knuckle down,’ to work hard and study, to never use profanity, to share with my nine brothers and sisters, and never to quarrel among ourselves. This was a wonderful foundation for a long life.”
Here’s to you, Les.
