Impromptus today is a series of notes about golf — private golf (your golf) and presidential golf (Obama’s, the Bushes’, Clinton’s, Ike’s . . .). There is a fair amount of politics in this series, too, because people like to intrude politics into golf. I don’t, I hasten to say! But others do, and then, sometimes, the likes of me respond. Anyway, the topic of golf can open up a whole can of societal worms.

Want to give you a little reader mail. One reader lists reasons that liberals, especially, should appreciate golf. I’ll relate two of these: “It is very zen, very New Age — a game 90 percent mental played at a leisurely pace in a beautifully prepared space.” Often, the pace is all too leisurely, but let that go for now. The second reason: “It is affirmative action on grass. Given handicaps and the variety of tees [altering the length of a hole], a 65-year-old duffer can compete directly with a pro.”

Affirmative action on grass — a wince-making phrase, but I see the point.

Back, for a second, to pace of play. I mention in Impromptus that Bush 41 was famous for “speed golf.” A reader writes to remind us, “Dave Marr once said that Bush played a round of golf ‘like he’s double-parked.’” (Marr was a champion golfer, later a TV commentator. He was famous for saying, after a high, soft shot, “The ball landed on the green like a butterfly with sore feet.”)

And I enjoyed this letter from a reader, smiling at the truth of it:

Good morning, Jay,
The first job I ever had was caddying at our local country club. For the life of me, I cannot think of another place or time on earth when a CEO or other master of the universe is likely to turn to a scrawny 13-year-old kid in shorts and T-shirt and ask, in all sincerity, “What do you think I should do here?”

The reader’s first words, “Good morning,” remind me that, in Impromptus years ago, I did a series on “great opening lines” — great opening lines in literature. One of my favorites: “It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore.” (P. G. Wodehouse, “The Heart of a Goof.”) (My other favorite opening line: “Job was not a patient man,” from Marchette Chute’s The Search for God.)