If you had never noticed from your youth, Webster did not possess either a bar or a bowling alley. The former was no bar to me (okay sad pun) but the latter meant that I would have to travel outside of town to roll some games if rolling them I so desired. Meanwhile, the Pink House on Watson took the future and livers of some friends. When I was 11 or so, I joined a junior bowling league via the efforts of Andy Hittler. Many of you knew Andy and this should not surprise you, but how and why my parents paid for my participation is still a mystery. The league was at Marlborough Lanes, situated in a town known for two things: a bowling alley and Coral Courts, an Art Deco establishment that rented rooms by the hour. The architecture was wonderful. Okay, there was a third thing. Marlborough police would perch along Watson and ticket for 41 in a 40. So, speed trap, bowling alley and shady motel. Their founders day parade must have been spectacular. The air on my sweating palms, the weight of a ball borrowed from the rack, the smooth soles of rented shoes, and the sound of pins flying was intoxicating. I didnt even mind the flavor of the snack bar burgers which consisted of crap, ketchup and a soggy bun. Just to be somewhere, competing, trying, rolling that damn ball down the lane and hoping for something more. Hoping to verify myself with each strike and spare. I sometimes rolled less than 140 and I sometimes topped 200. I could never master a hook, but I could throw a straight ball time and again into the 1-3 pocket. And I could pick a spare, even a rare 7-10, if given the opportunity. Fast forward more than 40 years. Dave and Nancey and I were in St. Louis and Dave got the idea of going bowling. I had not picked up a ball since junior high. We went to Marlborough Lanes and I rolled a 183. Dave has passed. Webster has changed. Nancey still grieves. But I still smile when I think about that night and the days when I was 11 and bowling felt like life held in the balance. You roll a ball down polished boards toward the pins. You hope that your effort will allow the pins to give in. Sometimes it all works and they all fall down. Sometimes they dont. You get another try. And sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesnt. Life. Bowling. Webster. Family. Thanks Andy. I learned a lot.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 02:10:33 +0000
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