When Did I Lose My Bowling?

Well, now, it appears that I can add bowling to the growing list of pleasures that I can no longer enjoy. The other day I took my grandsons to Buffalo Lanes, excited to go because I used to enjoy it so much when I actually had a social life. My mind ticked off all the things I was taught when I learned how to bowl those many years ago in junior high school: bend your knees (um, sure); don’t lob the ball – keep it low to the ground and roll it. (see #1); aim for the spot between the middle arrow printed on the lane and one on either side of said center arrow. (see #1 and #2). I’m so glad my bowling instructor was not there to witness the tragedy before us.

Knowing my knees, I came prepared. I put a brace on my right knee and after a few frames it came off. I wound up being more uncomfortable wearing that thing than I was trying to bend my knees. By the end of the second game I had it down to a science. Sort of. I almost broke 100! One more pin down and I would have had it knocked! Hey, it was much better than the 67 I bowled the first game. This, coming from someone who used to bowl in the 120’s and even in the 140’s on occasion. Not a star, but relatively respectable. Do you think anyone would have noticed if I would have put the bumpers up?

The boys were so sweet, encouraging me after every frame. The little one never failed to give me a “high five”, even on the gutter balls, of which there were more than I care to discuss. They went home and told my son and daughter-in-law that “Mimi is a good bowler. She had 2 strikes!” Well, that was partially true. I did get one strike in the second game but the other “strike” followed a gutter ball.

In between frames I looked around, mostly to make sure no one I knew was there, which was unlikely, anyway, but also at other suspected grandparents fighting similar battles, also possibly hoping, as I was, that no one was goose-necking to look at their scores.

In spite of everything, I had a great time with my grandsons, and it was much less embarrassing screwing up with them than it was when the boys I went with were a bit taller! All things considered, my bowling ball, which is stored, anyway, will now succumb to the status of “for sale”. Anyone interested? It’s a very pretty purple.