< 1 min read
Moishe is 90 years old. He's played golf every day since his retirement 25 years ago.
One day he arrives home looking downcast.
"That's it," he tells his wife Miriam. "I'm giving up golf. My eyesight has gotten so bad that once I've hit the ball, I can't see where it went."
Miriam sympathizes and makes him a cup of tea with a piece of cake. As they sit down, she says, "Why don't you take my brother Herman with you and give it one more try."
"That's no good," sighs Moishe. "Your brother's a hundred and three. He can't help."
"He may be a hundred and three," says Miriam, "but his eyesight is perfect."
So the next day, Moishe heads off to the golf course with his brother-in-law Herman. He tees up, takes an almighty swing, and squints down the fairway.
He turns to Herman. "Did you see the ball?"
"Of course I did!" replies Herman. "I have perfect eyesight."
"Where did it go?" asks Moishe.
"I don't remember."