When Furman Bisher came into my life in 1986, I was fresh out of college, a whippersnapper sportswriter in awe of the legendary Atlanta Journal columnist. Aged 68, he seemed positively ancient.
Over the next quarter century, I studied the way he worked and wrote, and we became friends through our shared interest in golf – a sport that connects people of diverse ages and abilities.
When “the Bish” died a week ago, to me he was a young 93, because he changed my view of what it meant to grow old.
He did this by example — by living and writing the way he played golf.
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