Friday, July 25, 2025

The Eye in the Sky - A Children's Story

The Eye in the Sky

By Bill Conley
America’s Favorite Children’s Storyteller

My grandson Archer asked me to write a story about an Eye in the Sky, and this is what I came up with.

Moral to the Story:
God sees everything with love, care, and wisdom from above.
He watches over children and creatures, the land and the seas.
He sends clouds to cover, rain to water, and sun to warm.
He knows what each person needs—before they even ask.
He sends winds to cool the heat and puddles to bring joy.
Nothing happens in the sky that God doesn't allow with a purpose.
He cares for flowers, farmers, forests, and families alike.
The Eye in the Sky is not just watching—He's lovingly guiding all things.

Once upon a time, high above the Earth, there was a mysterious and marvelous place hidden behind the clouds where something wonderful happened every single day.

In this place lived the Eye in the Sky—a warm, gentle, all-seeing eye that never blinked, never slept, and never stopped caring.

Now, this wasn’t just any eye. This was God’s eye—the loving gaze of our Heavenly Father, who watches over all the children, trees, animals, and people on Earth. And while nobody could see Him directly, everyone could feel His work in the skies above.

He didn’t use loud words or flashing signs. Instead, He whispered to the clouds, to the wind, to the rain, and to the sun—and they obeyed Him like cheerful helpers on a heavenly mission.

Here are five amazing ways the Eye in the Sky helped the Earth below.

1. The Sun Was Too Hot for the Little Ones

One summer afternoon, a group of children were playing in the park. Their cheeks were red, their hair was sweaty, and even the slide was too hot to sit on!

“Oh, I wish there was some shade!” cried little Ellie, fanning herself with her sunhat.

The Eye in the Sky blinked gently.

“I see you, little ones,” God said with a whisper only the clouds could hear. “Time to give them some cover.”

And just like that, fluffy white clouds rolled in over the playground. The blazing sun dimmed a little, and a cool breeze followed.

“Ahhh! That’s better!” said Jackson as he climbed the now-cool slide.

The clouds chuckled as they settled in. The Eye in the Sky smiled. The children played on, joyful and cool.

2. The Farmers Were Praying for Rain

Far away, in a wide field, an old farmer named Mr. Ben knelt by his dry crops. His corn leaves drooped, and the soil was cracked.

“We need rain, Lord,” he whispered. “Just a little to help these fields grow.”

The Eye in the Sky saw Mr. Ben and his family bowing their heads at dinner. He saw their hope and their faith.

“Clouds,” He whispered kindly, “gather your drops and head to Ben’s farm.”

The clouds rumbled happily and drifted low over the golden fields. Then, with a soft pat-pat-pat, the rain began to fall—just enough to soak the roots and lift the leaves.

The next morning, the plants stood tall and green. The farmer wept happy tears, knowing God had heard him.

3. The Little Girl Who Loved Rainy Days

In a small city, a girl named Piper looked out her window and sighed.

“It’s so sunny,” she said. “I wish it would rain! I want to wear my yellow boots and jump in puddles.”

Her mom laughed. “Most people want sunshine, not rain.”

But the Eye in the Sky saw Piper’s longing. And guess what?

God sent a quiet little cloud just over her neighborhood. It rained for only twenty minutes—just enough to make puddles big enough for splashing.

Piper squealed with joy, pulling on her boots and twirling her polka-dot umbrella.

“Thank you, Eye in the Sky!” she giggled, jumping high and landing with a splash.

4. The Flowers Who Needed a Drink

In the garden behind Miss Molly’s house, rows of flowers stretched their petals to the sky. The roses were tired. The daisies drooped. Even the bright marigolds looked dull.

Miss Molly was away visiting her sister, and no one had watered the garden.

The Eye in the Sky looked down and said, “My sweet blossoms need a sip.”

The clouds heard and hurried to help. They sprinkled a light rain over the garden—not too much, just right.

By the next morning, the flowers stood tall and proud. Birds came to sing, and bees came to dance.

Even though Miss Molly wasn’t there, God had not forgotten her garden.

5. The Forest Was Getting Too Cold

Deep in the forest, the animals were starting to shiver. The wind had been strong for days, and the little critters were huddling in their burrows and nests.

The Eye in the Sky watched the sleepy fox, the curled-up raccoons, and the baby deer trembling under a tree.

“It’s time to warm them up,” God said gently.

He told the wind to calm down and asked the sun to peek through.

Sunlight streamed between the trees, melting the frost and warming the ground.

The animals stretched, yawned, and came out to play.

Squirrels chased each other, and birds sang louder than before. All of nature knew—they had been seen and loved.

And so, the Eye in the Sky continued to watch, not just the skies, but every heart.

Sometimes He sent clouds to cry with us. Sometimes He brought sunshine to lift us. Sometimes He used the wind to carry change.

But always—always—He acted with love.

Whether you’re a child splashing in puddles, a farmer praying for rain, a bird singing to the sun, or a flower waiting for a drink, the Eye in the Sky sees you.

And that Eye belongs to Someone who loves you more than you can imagine.

Poem to the Story:
The Eye in the Sky watches day and night,
Sending clouds and winds that feel just right.
He gives us shade, He gives us sun,
He waters the flowers when the day is done.
He hears the prayers of big and small,
Because our God sees and loves us all.

Thought-Provoking Questions for Parents and Children:

1.     Can you think of a time when the weather changed and helped you or someone else?

2.     Why do you think God uses gentle things like rain and wind to show His love?

3.     How can we be more aware and thankful for the way God takes care of us every day?

Thursday, July 24, 2025

Why I Write Children’s Stories: Planting Seeds That Will Bloom for Generations

Why I Write Children’s Stories: Planting Seeds That Will Bloom for Generations

Why do I write children’s stories? Why do I dedicate hours of my life to creating tales about talking animals, gentle clouds, thoughtful turtles, brave little mice, and kind-hearted foxes? The answer is simple—and yet profound. I write because I believe stories have the power to shape hearts, mold character, and plant seeds of truth that grow for generations.

We live in a world where technology pulls our children in countless directions, where values are often blurred, and where foundational life lessons are too frequently left untaught. Amid the noise, I offer something quiet and steady—stories. Not just stories to entertain, but stories to teach. Stories that live in the soul long after the last page is turned. Stories that help parents talk to their children about things that matter. Things like kindness, honesty, courage, gratitude, self-worth, discipline, patience, and faith.

I write these stories because I believe every child deserves to feel seen, heard, and loved. I write because I want to help parents guide their children toward wisdom in a way that feels natural and loving. I write because childhood is a fleeting window where character is built—and too many of today’s influences seek to erode, not edify.

Each story I write is crafted with purpose. From the choice of the animal to the moral of the story to the playful poem at the end—every element is designed to spark reflection and conversation. These are not just bedtime stories. They are legacy stories. Life lessons wrapped in imagination, preserved in print, and gifted to the next generation.

This journey began with a simple idea: What if one story could change the way a child thinks? What if one sentence could give a struggling child hope? What if a story could inspire a parent to speak truth or help a grandparent connect deeply with their grandchild?

Today, with hundreds of stories written, I see a library forming—not just of books, but of values as well. A treasure chest of tales, each one holding something timeless. In a world that rushes forward, these stories remind us to slow down, sit close, and share something meaningful.

That is why I write children’s stories. Because what we teach our children today will echo through their tomorrows. And I want to be part of that echo—soft but steady, fun yet firm, loving and lasting.

Why I Write Them

I write these stories because I remember the power of a well-told tale from my own childhood. I recall how it felt to be transported to a magical world where animals spoke, where good triumphed over evil, and where I learned something about myself in the process. I write these stories because today’s children need that same magic—only now, it must come with a moral compass. These are not throwaway stories. They are blueprints for life.

Writing is my way of giving back. As a father, grandfather, life coach, and mentor, I have seen firsthand how important it is to speak into the lives of young people. But I also know that many children don’t have someone to guide them—or even to read to them. So I write, hoping that my words will find their way into the hands of parents, teachers, and caregivers who understand the importance of shaping young minds with intention.

What I Hope to Achieve

I hope that my stories will open the door to conversation. That a child will ask, “What does it mean to be respectful?” after reading Ricky the Raccoon Learns to Respect Others. Or that a parent will say, “Let’s try to be more like Tilly the Turtle and be on time tomorrow.” I hope these stories will be the bridge between values and action—turning bedtime moments into teachable ones.

I also hope that children who feel overlooked or misunderstood will find comfort in these stories. That they’ll see themselves in the characters—imperfect, but growing. Different, but valuable. That they’ll come to understand that every child, just like every animal in my stories, has something special to offer.

Why These Stories Matter Now

In today’s society, character education is often sidelined in favor of performance, popularity, or digital distraction. Children are bombarded with influences that rarely reinforce morality, humility, or spiritual values. That’s why stories rooted in these principles are more critical now than ever before.

These stories slow things down. They bring a child onto a parent’s lap. They make space for laughter, curiosity, and gentle correction. They invite trust and closeness. In a noisy world, they whisper truth.

Why These Stories Will Live On

I don’t write for trends. I write for truth. And truth never goes out of style.

The values taught in these stories—respect, kindness, honesty, self-control, and gratitude—are timeless. They will still matter fifty years from now. That’s why I believe these stories will live on. They’re not bound by fashion or politics. They’re rooted in something deeper: the heart.

Each book is a time capsule. A message to future generations that someone believed character mattered. That someone took the time to say, “Here is how to be a good person.” That someone wrote not to impress, but to influence—quietly, deeply, eternally.

Conclusion

If you’ve ever seen a child’s eyes light up during a story, you know that something sacred is happening. That spark—that connection between word and wonder—is why I write. I write to spark that light again and again, in homes and hearts all over the world.

There is an urgency in my writing. Not because I’m in a hurry, but because I understand how fast childhood flies. Blink, and it’s gone. But what remains are the lessons, the stories, and the values we impart along the way. That’s why I pour myself into every page.

These stories are my gift to the next generation. My voice will one day go silent, but these stories will keep speaking. They’ll sit on shelves, live in libraries, pass from parents to children, and perhaps one day to grandchildren. They will speak of kindness and courage when I’m no longer here to say the words myself.

I am not just writing stories—I am building a legacy. One that speaks to the heart. One that invites a child to believe in themselves. One that encourages parents to lead with love and intention.

My hope is that long after I’m gone, a child somewhere will pull one of my books from a shelf and say, “Let’s read this one.” And that when they do, a quiet truth will settle into their soul. That they are loved. That they are enough. That they can grow into someone good and strong and kind.

So I will keep writing. I will keep crafting characters and lessons and rhymes. I will keep putting pen to paper, knowing that these small acts of storytelling are really great acts of faith.

Because stories shape lives. And lives shape the world.

And if I can play even a small part in helping children become people of character, then every word, every sentence, and every story I write is worth it.

About the Author
Bill Conley is a dedicated storyteller, life coach, and faith-filled guide whose heartfelt children’s stories have brought smiles and timeless lessons to families everywhere. As the author of hundreds of moral-rich tales, Bill believes in planting seeds of kindness, gratitude, responsibility, and faith in the hearts of children while they’re young. His signature style weaves simple yet powerful truths into colorful adventures featuring animal heroes, each story carefully crafted to impart values that last a lifetime.

Bill’s passion for writing comes from his own journey and years of experience as a father to six children, grandfather to six grandchildren, mentor, and devoted husband. He understands that children need stories that do more than entertain; they need stories that shape character, spark imagination, and open conversations between parents and kids.

Whether he’s writing about a brave little beaver, a wise turtle, a fast cheetah, or a gentle cloud that forgets how to rain, Bill pours his love for faith, family, and old-fashioned values into every word. He knows that small lessons today become big strengths tomorrow.

In addition to his books, Bill is a certified life coach who has helped countless people build stronger relationships, grow in faith, and navigate life’s storms with confidence and hope. His words encourage children and grown-ups alike to be kind, stay positive, honor commitments, and always believe they are enough.

When he’s not writing, Bill enjoys spending time with his six children and six grandchildren, sharing laughter and lessons across generations. He also finds joy in serving his church and community, living out the very values he writes about so passionately.

Bill Conley’s greatest hope is that every story will help families build warm memories together—reading aloud, asking questions, and inspiring children to grow into caring, courageous, and thoughtful adults.

He invites you to keep reading, keep talking, and keep believing that the smallest good things we do can change the world for the better.

 

Freddy the Fox and the Forest of Wonder - A Children's Story

Freddy the Fox and the Forest of Wonder

By Bill Conley

Moral of the Story:
Your imagination is a powerful gift—use it to explore, create, and dream.
When there are no pictures, your mind becomes the artist.
You can build entire worlds with your thoughts and bring stories to life with your heart.
Sometimes the best pictures are the ones only you can see.

Once upon a time, deep in the heart of a forest you’ve never been to (but might visit in your dreams), lived a clever young fox named Freddy.

Freddy wasn’t like other foxes.
He loved to ask questions.
He loved to explore.
But most of all… Freddy loved stories.

One day, Freddy woke up to the sound of rustling leaves and a breeze that whispered,
“Follow me…”

Freddy sat up in his cozy den and twitched his ears.
The breeze rustled again.
“Come see the Forest of Wonder.”

Without even brushing his fur, Freddy darted through the trees, his paws skipping over roots and soft moss. The forest smelled like sweet apples and fresh rain. The air danced with magic—at least, that’s what it felt like to Freddy.

Can you imagine what the forest looks like? What colors do you see? What sounds do you hear?

As Freddy wandered deeper, he met a giant bird with wings that shimmered like… well, like something you can imagine.

The bird squawked in a voice that rumbled like thunder and sang like a lullaby.
“I’m the Guardian of the Forest of Wonder. Only those who imagine may pass.”

Freddy perked up.
“Imagine what?” he asked.

The bird smiled, if birds can smile (you decide).
“Everything. Because in the Forest of Wonder, you create the story.”

Freddy tiptoed forward and suddenly found himself face-to-face with a talking tree.

Now… Was this tree tall or short? Did it have golden leaves or leaves shaped like stars?
That’s up to you.

The tree spoke slowly:
“To reach the heart of the forest, you must imagine your way there. Picture it in your mind, not your eyes.”

Freddy closed his eyes.
He pictured a glowing path made of moonlight.
He imagined stepping stones that sang when you touched them.
He saw tiny lanterns held by mice in hats, guiding the way.

The moment he opened his eyes… There it was.
The path.
The lights.
The mice.

Everything he imagined had come to life.

Freddy walked with wonder in his paws and a smile in his heart.
He met creatures with shiny scales and others with fluffy tails.
He saw things that couldn’t possibly exist—and yet, they did, because he imagined them.

At last, Freddy reached the center of the Forest of Wonder.
There stood a mirror.
But this mirror didn’t show fur or whiskers.
It showed his imagination.

He saw himself soaring through clouds, sailing seas made of jelly, dancing with giraffes, painting stars, and racing the wind.

Freddy laughed out loud.
He had never seen so much with his eyes closed.

That night, Freddy curled back into his den.
He didn’t need a bedtime story from someone else.

He made up his own.

Because once you unlock your imagination…
You’ll never run out of stories again.

🌟 A Poem to End the Tale 🌟

Close your eyes and take a flight,
Through dreams and stars and soft moonlight.
With just a thought, you can explore,
A world with magic, and so much more.

No pictures needed, just your mind—
The best adventures are the kind
You draw with heart and colored dreams,
With talking trees and lemonade streams.

 

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

Benny the Bunny Says, “That’s Not Mine!” - A children's Story

Benny the Bunny Says, “That’s Not Mine!”

By Bill Conley—America’s Favorite Children’s Storyteller

Moral to the Story:
A cheerful home is one where every creature lends a paw.
Saying, “That’s not mine!” doesn’t help keep the den clean.
Even if you didn’t make the mess, you can still fix it.
We all share the space, so we all share the work.
Taking pride in our home shows love, care, and maturity.
Kindness means pitching in—even when no one’s watching.

In a cozy burrow tucked under the roots of a towering old oak tree lived Benny the Bunny with his family—Mama Bunny, Papa Bunny, his little sister Bella, and his baby brother Bo. Their home was snug and warm, with soft moss carpets, a pebble path that led to the front door, and shelves carved into the burrow walls stacked with books, toys, and baskets of fresh clover.

But lately, the Burrow had started to look a little different. Toys were scattered across the floor. Carrot tops were left on the table. Bits of apple cores and empty berry bowls popped up in every corner. It seemed every time Mama or Papa asked the young bunnies to help clean, the same words echoed through the burrow:

“That’s not mine!”

“Not mine either!”

“I didn’t do it!”

One morning, Mama Bunny hopped into the living room and stopped in her tracks.

“Yikes! Who left all these wooden blocks in the walkway?” she asked.

Benny looked up from his coloring. “Not mine,” he said with a shrug.

“I haven’t played with blocks all week,” said Bella.

Bo giggled and tried to hop over the blocks, knocking more onto the floor.

Mama sighed and carefully picked her way through the mess.

Later that day, Papa Bunny found a muddy trail leading from the front door all the way to the family table.

“Can someone please clean this up?” he asked.

“Not me,” said Benny.

“I didn’t even go outside,” said Bella.

Bo squeaked and hid under the bench.

That evening, after supper, Mama and Papa sat their three bunnies down on the moss mat.

“We need to have a family chat,” said Papa gently.

“We’ve noticed something,” Mama added. “Every time we ask for help around the burrow, you all say the same thing—‘That’s not mine.’ But little ones, that’s not how a family works.”

Benny frowned. “But it’s not fair to clean up what we didn’t mess up.”

“Is it fair for Mama to clean up everyone’s mess every day?” Papa asked.

Benny looked at his paws and stayed quiet.

Mama smiled softly. “When we live together, we all help each other—even when it isn’t our mess. That’s what families do.”

“But what if I really didn’t do it?” Bella asked.

“Even then,” Papa said. “Helping out shows you care. You’re not just cleaning up—you're showing kindness.”

Benny thought about it. “So… if I see a mess, I should just help clean it?”

Mama nodded. “Exactly. Don’t worry about who made it. Just do what’s right.”

The next day, Benny saw a paintbrush lying on the floor near the kitchen.

He glanced around. “Not mine,” he whispered… then paused.

He remembered what Mama said.

So, he picked it up and put it in the art box.

Later, Bella noticed a book sticking out from under the moss mat.

She hadn’t read it—but she tucked it back onto the shelf anyway.

And when Bo accidentally knocked over the basket of napkins, Benny was the first to hop over and help him clean up.

No one had to ask.

No one said, “That’s not mine.”

They just helped.

By the end of the week, the burrow looked tidy again. Even Papa noticed.

“You bunnies have really been pitching in,” he said proudly.

Mama nodded. “It feels peaceful again in here.”

Benny smiled. “I guess when we all help, we all win.”

From that day on, the Burrowtailbunnies lived by a new rule:

If you see something that needs to be done, just do it!

It didn’t matter who made the mess.
What mattered was the love behind the help.

And if you peeked inside their burrow today, you might hear a bunny hop by and say with pride:

“I’ve got it!”

Poem to the Story:
When something’s out of place or seems a bit askew,
Don’t ask whose job it is—just do what you can do.
Lend a paw, a heart, a smile—help without delay.
Clean it up or fold it neatly; don’t look the other way.
A helpful home is built with care, with kindness all the while—
So be like Benny Bunny, and do it with a smile.

Three Thought-Provoking Questions:

1.     Why is helping out important, even if you didn’t make the mess?

2.     How can teamwork make a family stronger?

3.     What are three things you can do this week to help around your home?

About the Author
Bill Conley is a dedicated storyteller, life coach, and faith-filled guide whose heartfelt children’s stories have brought smiles and timeless lessons to families everywhere. As the author of hundreds of moral-rich tales, Bill believes in planting seeds of kindness, gratitude, responsibility, and faith in the hearts of children while they’re young. His signature style weaves simple yet powerful truths into colorful adventures featuring animal heroes, each story carefully crafted to impart values that last a lifetime.

Bill’s passion for writing comes from his own journey and years of experience as a father to six children, grandfather to six grandchildren, mentor, and devoted husband. He understands that children need stories that do more than entertain; they need stories that shape character, spark imagination, and open conversations between parents and kids.

Whether he’s writing about a brave little beaver, a wise turtle, a fast cheetah, or a gentle cloud that forgets how to rain, Bill pours his love for faith, family, and old-fashioned values into every word. He knows that small lessons today become big strengths tomorrow.

In addition to his books, Bill is a certified life coach who has helped countless people build stronger relationships, grow in faith, and navigate life’s storms with confidence and hope. His words encourage children and grown-ups alike to be kind, stay positive, honor commitments, and always believe they are enough.

When he’s not writing, Bill enjoys spending time with his six children and six grandchildren, sharing laughter and lessons across generations. He also finds joy in serving his church and community, living out the very values he writes about so passionately.

Bill Conley’s greatest hope is that every story will help families build warm memories together—reading aloud, asking questions, and inspiring children to grow into caring, courageous, and thoughtful adults.

He invites you to keep reading, keep talking, and keep believing that the smallest good things we do can change the world for the better.

 

 

Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Cheap to the Core: How the PGA Tour Exploits Its Volunteers for Profit

Cheap to the Core: How the PGA Tour Exploits Its Volunteers for Profit

Introduction

Golf has long been celebrated as a game of honor, tradition, and respect—but when you peel back the PGA Tour’s polished image, what you find underneath is corporate greed cloaked in golf attire. The sport may pride itself on etiquette and class, but the PGA Tour has mastered the art of squeezing every last dollar from the very people who keep its tournaments running: the volunteers.

At events like The Players Championship at TPC Sawgrass, volunteers donate upward of 40 hours of their time during tournament week. These individuals are the invisible hands guiding traffic, managing the ropes, welcoming fans, and ensuring every shot happens without chaos. But instead of gratitude, what do they receive? A bill.

Volunteers must pay for their own uniforms. They receive no complimentary meals. They’re forced to park off-site and deal with long, inconvenient shuttle rides. And if they want to attend the so-called "Volunteer Appreciation Party"? It costs money and is capped at 600 people—despite there being over 2,500 volunteers. That means if 300 bring a guest, the rest are simply out of luck. What kind of organization charges for a volunteer party—and then excludes most of the volunteers?

But the most recent slap in the face came after my 40 hours of service: I was offered a round at the Stadium Course for $35—reasonable. But when my wife simply joined me to ride in the golf cart, they charged her $40. That’s right—more than they charged me to play. Had she stayed home, the PGA wouldn’t have earned a dime. But they couldn’t resist grabbing her $40.

This isn’t just bad optics—it’s a deliberate culture of greed. And it’s time someone called it out.

Body: The Bitter Reality Behind the Polished Greens

The PGA Tour loves to talk about tradition, excellence, and gratitude—but the way it treats its volunteers tells a very different story. These men and women, who show up every year to make tournaments successful, are treated less like valued contributors and more like walking revenue streams.

1. Volunteers Pay to Work
Let’s start with the most offensive reality: volunteers have to pay to volunteer. That means paying for required uniforms branded with PGA logos, and in many cases, registration fees just to participate. In what other billion-dollar industry are people charged to donate their time?

2. No Meals—Bring Your Own Lunch
While volunteers do have access to water during their shifts (one of the only courtesies provided), there are no free meals. You’re on your feet all day, often in scorching heat—and unless you pack your own lunch or shell out money at overpriced vendors, you’ll go hungry. Meanwhile, corporate tents enjoy catered buffets and air conditioning.

3. Poor Transportation Logistics
Forget convenient parking. Volunteers must park far from the course and ride shuttles that are frequently delayed or overcrowded. These delays often result in stress and late arrivals to assignments—yet no accommodations are made.

4. A Party with a Price Tag
Every year, the PGA Tour hosts a “Volunteer Appreciation Party.” Sounds nice, right? Except it’s not free. Volunteers must pay to attend—and it’s capped at just 600 people. With over 2,500 volunteers, and many bringing guests, more than 1,900 are left out entirely. What organization charges its unpaid workers to attend an appreciation event—and then excludes most of them?

5. Monetizing the “Reward”
Here’s where the hypocrisy peaks. After 40 hours of unpaid work, I was offered a round of golf at the Stadium Course for $35. That’s fine. But when my wife joined me as a non-playing rider in the cart, they charged her $40—more than my round cost. That’s $75 for a “thank you” gift. Had she stayed home, they wouldn’t have seen a dime. Instead, they saw an opportunity to profit off her presence.

This isn’t generosity. It’s exploitation.

Conclusion

The PGA Tour's treatment of volunteers reveals a stark and disappointing truth: they are not viewed as valued team members, but as free labor to be mined for every possible dollar. From charging for uniforms and meals to monetizing appreciation events and ride-alongs, the PGA Tour has demonstrated that no opportunity to profit is beneath them—even when it comes to the people who make their success possible.

Providing water is the bare minimum—and yet it’s held up as a benefit. But what about meals? What about on-site parking? What about real, unrestricted appreciation for thousands of people giving away their time to ensure the PGA’s events are flawless? It’s shameful that a volunteer needs to pay out of pocket to attend a “thank-you” party—and worse that most can’t even get in.

And the $40 charge for a volunteer’s spouse to ride in a golf cart? That one moment says it all. A professional organization with billions in revenue decided that making an extra $40 was more important than expressing true appreciation. My wife didn’t play golf. She sat beside me in a cart. And for that, they charged more than they charged me, the volunteer.

Volunteers are waking up. We’re starting to realize that the PGA Tour doesn’t see us as partners or even supporters. They see us as a line item on a spreadsheet—another potential stream of income.

Unless something changes, unless volunteers are finally treated with respect, dignity, and fairness, the PGA risks losing its most loyal workers. Because as more people speak out, it’s becoming clear:

The PGA Tour is cheap to the core.

And we’re done pretending otherwise.