7 01 2009


All winter long for years and years before he retired and for bunches after, Billy really looked forward to Thursday nights.  He loved bowling.  A bad night for him was probably my best game ever- 104.  I’m surprised he kept the trophy as evidence.img_38651

It was always a treat to be allowed to go along to the bowling alley for the evening to “watch”.  The low rumble on the lanes, the loud crack of the pins, the smoky haze and men drinking beer (Billy’s team were non-participants tho) added to the feeling that I was being let in on some taboo grown-up fun. Watching the shadow hands do math on the overhead scorecards was fascinating. Matching shirts, special shoes and bowling ball bags…oh – the brotherhood of it all.   

Family bowling on special holidays is not as fond a memory .  All I can remember in that setting was pain and pressure- it was never fun. It’s my own fault because I was so bad at following Billy’s instructions.  Too much work. He was too good and it was not in his character to just leave us to our own devices.  

After all, another trophy with his name on it, for bowling 651 series (meaning a 216-217-218 games all in one night) was proof enough the guy knew a thing or two about the game.


It is just hard as a parent to be really good at something and let your kids find their own way without making it an issue.  How easily we toe the foul line and cross over to prohibited territory.  But with some good step-step-step-step-slides maybe we can get it down just right…

Or maybe Billy had it right – keep our trophies…the ones that show us on top and the “Flub Dubs”.

p.s.  I’m seriously considering starting a prop house for the bourgeoning film industry in Michigan.  There is just too much good stuff right here at hand.  Investors?