As the poignant stories roll beautifully, one after another, and the deliveries are sprinkled with laughter and warm reverence, you realize the storyteller cherishes his path in golf.

“Very, very blessed,” said Bill Safrin. “I consider myself the luckiest man in the world.”

Had his career as a PGA professional only included the 40 years at the Myopia Hunt Club in South Hamilton, Mass., it would have been a glorious ride. Gracious, the aura with which Myopia is immersed. It is where four of the five highest winning aggregate scores have been shot in the U.S. Open (328 in 1898; 331 in 1901; 314 in 1905; 322 in 1908); where a time-honored embrace of polo still resides; where unpretentiousness leaves you in awe; where holes have enough character to stand proudly at a mere 276 yards (No. 1, par 4) a robust 252 (No. 3, par 3) or a tiny 136 (No. 9, par 3).

“A lifetime of memories,” said Safrin, who lives in Naples, Fla., and is still connected to the game as owner-operator of Bill Safrin Golf Travel LLC. “Myopia enriched my world in so many ways.”

His passion for his years as Myopia’s head professional (1980-2010) has many layers, including his role in creating what is arguably one of the greatest golf club logos in existence. It’s the iconic fox and horn that pays homage to what was part of the club’s early days.

But what stirs Safrin’s emotions the most are the people. In his case, icons from the worlds of film (Jack Lemmon, who died in 2001) and literature (John Updike, who died in 2009) are at the forefront. The former was a yearly participant in a Myopia member-guest, the latter was a longtime member, but both men brought years of immense joy and unmistakable charm to Safrin’s world.

Monuments of artistic talents who won two Oscars (Lemmon) and two Pulitzer Prizes (Updike), yes, but it was their love of golf that connected them to Safrin. And, oh, the stories, he is left with.

“Jack was a sweetheart. He had such a warm smile. He was friendly, unassuming, and quiet. But while he wasn’t a very talented golfer, he loved it,” said Safrin, who provided golf lessons when Lemmon was in town to connect with old Harvard friends who were members at Myopia.

It was the Harvard connection that provided a story which always makes Safrin laugh. A Myopia member, Richard Humphrey, explained how his father had threatened to pull him out of Harvard during his freshman year, citing his son’s partying and disregard for studies. Besides, “he felt his son’s two roommates were alcoholics who would never amount to anything,” laughed Safrin.

The roommates were Lemmon and Dr. John Knowles, who went on to became President of the Rockefeller Foundation and Chief of Staff at Mass. General Hospital.

Alongside Humphrey, Knowles, and other members of the annual Myopia member-guest, Lemmon would blend right in, sitting at the piano and leading sing-alongs.

There is an irresistible joy in trying to play this intoxicating game and to bask in the camaraderie “And Jack’s heart was into it and he was dedicated and motivated by all of it.”

The famed Myopia Hunt Club logo, with which Bill Safrin had a role in.

Safrin said Lemmon would ask for two dozen Slazengers with the Myopia logo and when the pro asked him why, “he told me, ‘because I hit the bejesus out of them.’ ” The balls would be shipped to Lemmon in Palm Springs, along with a hat emblazoned with the famed Myopia logo.

“Often Jack would wear it in the (Pebble Beach) pro-am and a picture of him doing so ran in Sports Illustrated one year.”

Where Lemmon embraced the big stage of the “Crosby Pro-Am,” Updike once wrote, “Basically, I want to be alone with my golf.”

A fascinating study, Updike was, because while he may be the last of the brilliant American wordsmiths and renowned for his series of “Rabbit” novels and lengthy career at “The New Yorker,”  there was an abundance of excellence poured into his writings about golf.

In fact, none other than the finest golf writer of this generation, Michael Bamberger, once opined in Sports Illustrated that “John Updike in his spare time was the greatest writer of golf ever, although he was partial to Herb Wind.”

Should you be foolhardy and question Bamberger’s assessment, here is evidence to support his viewpoint. From one of Updike’s many stories about golf:

“On a balmy summer day there was nothing in the world to come between you and par, except your own ineptitude.”

And another:

“One is never tired while playing golf. Afterward, yes, and beforehand, very possibly, but while the score is mounting and the tees and fairways and greens are passing underfoot, fatigue is magically held at bay.”

Or this:

“Somehow it is hard to dislike a man once you have played a round of golf with him.”

The hand-written invitation Bamberger once received from Updike for a round of golf at Myopia – “a sweet old American course,” the novelist called it – came about in large part because of Safrin. Having read Bamberger’s superb book “To The Linksland,” Safrin became infatuated with playing the game on the great links of Scotland and Ireland and organized annual trips overseas for Myopia members.

Those golf excursions not only deepened Safrin’s love of pure links, but it brought him closer to his members. Without hesitation, Safrin knew that Updike would be perfect to present a copy of “To The Linksland.” It made such sense to Safrin, who, like Updike, was Pennsylvania-raised and they shared a college connection as Ivy Leaguers. (Harvard for Updike, Penn for Safrin). Throw in Bamberger’s years at a Philadelphia paper and Safrin felt he had successfully connected the dots.

The cagey pro was spot on, too. Updike loved the book and the invitation to Bamberger for a round of golf was born of that respect.

Safrin’s story-telling is like syrup flowing from a pourer – smooth and consistent and you know you’ll want more. He cherished both these icons and frequently interjects how brilliantly talented they were, at the same time humanizing them.

Consider Updike’s first round at Royal Dornoch when the decision was made to provide him with the club’s most renowned caddie, Sandy Matheson. Little did Safrin know it at the time “but John had a thing against caddies” so after that day’s golf, the author pulled his head pro aside.

“Nothing against Sandy,” Updike told Safrin, “but I like the purity of the sport and want to carry my own bag.”

What unfolded will forever be a classic tale.

“John carried his own bag all day that second round, but he consistently yelled over to Sandy. ‘What should I hit?’ Sandy would yell back, ‘Hit your 5-wood.’ And he’d ask Sandy to read all his putts.

“When we were done, I pulled John aside and said, ‘You need to pay Sandy. You carried your bag, but he did all the work.’ And John did, too. He paid him the full rate.”

That’s not all Updike did, because back home in Massachusetts the author penned his epic short story, “Farrell’s Caddie” in “The New Yorker.”  It was the story of a CEO’s trip to Royal Dornoch where he connected with a crusty Scottish caddie. Fictitious names were used, of course, but everyone knew it was based Updike’s day of golf with the Myopia crew and the legendary Sandy Matheson.

“I brought a copy of that story to Sandy, who loved it,” said Safrin. “He kept a copy and signed another one for John.”

What made the joy of being around Updike work beautifully was the fact that Myopia members knew him well and could get him laughing. “They knew John to be parsimonious,” chuckled Safrin and the bookstore story during a tour of Glasgow made the rounds.

“John discovered one of his earliest novels in paperback and was quite excited. He hadn’t seen it for years. But when he was told that the book would cost him 5 pounds, he put it back, declaring it ‘too expensive.’ ”

Warm laughter is delivered by Safrin, who is constantly reminded of his lot in life.

“I was working in the game that I loved and working at a course where the membership appreciated their course which was known throughout the world. And to meet the people I would call friends and leave me with indelible memories. Very, very blessed.”