My Grandma and The Colors of Bowling

I love going bowling… even though I am not very good at it. Well, that’s not really true. I go from rolling two gutter balls in one frame to two strikes in the next frame. The problem is that bowling in New York City can be very expensive. Dive bowling alleys have been replaced by fancy pants hipstery alleys. Yuck. Luckily there is one of the last remaining dive bowling alleys close to my job that is Perfect with a capital “P.” So me and my best teacher headed there after another grueling day on the job.

Perfect, to me, in regards to a bowling alley: gritty, brightly colored, gritty, no hipsters, gritty, with lots of colorful balls, colorful carpet and colorful murals. Add ridiculously random between-frame animation and an occasional lane reset… and beer. Why on Earth don’t I go bowling more often! We will have to return on a Tuesday when ladies bowl for free.

My family used to go bowling a lot. My grandmother was a fantastic bowler who had tons of trophies. She actually bowled a perfect game on November 9, 1979, I learned as I dug through all my old stuff. “Joe” is my grandfather. I bowl more like him… barely. I don’t often break 100, but it is really in me to enjoy bowling. My mother also used to be an avid bowler who was in leagues for a lot of my childhood. I remember loving the same things about bowling alleys that I did back then. The colors. At one point my brother was in the league with my mom. Bummer that Mill Basin Bowl is no longer around. I would love to roll on the same lanes my grandmother did.

My grandmother’s bowling shirt, which I will don next time I bowl.

My beautiful grandmother.