Bowling: Mr. 300 Steven Kueny - This One Is For You

This will be my last bowling blog unless I roll a 300 or a 700 series (neither of which I have ever done!), as I know most of you are bored to tears with bowling.

But, I have to give credit where credit is due.  Remember the 72 year old man I wrote about last week with the 238 average.  Well, I was wrong.  He actually had a 735 series for a 245 average!  Wow.

Today, we bowled next to him...

He opened with a 248.

He followed it with a 279.  One of the fellow geezers was whispering under their breath that they hoped he rolled a 300, as he had been stuck on 99 300's for some time, and he thought it would be neat to see his 100th 300 game.  Can you imagine?  99 300 games.  Amazing.

He finished with a mortal 193, for an average this week of 240.  2 weeks, average 242.5 (rounded up to 243).  Yeah, this guy knows how to roll . . .

~

So, how did I do in week 2 after a 34 year hiatus?  Well, my highlight was one game with 7 strikes in a row, a 3 game series of 561 (avg. of 187) which raised my 2 week season average to a respectable 175.  I'm happy.  180 is still my goal, but it's fun, and I'm having something to do on Thursday afternoons other than work!

I've heard all about muscle memory, and it still works.  Hit the right arrow mark, and most of the time a strike will happen.

It's those dastardly splits that have always eaten my lunch if you come in a little high, and they did again today . . .

Bowling Nostalgia

I grew up bowling.  Literally, as far as my memory goes, I remember either being with my Dad bowling at Phillips or Red Apple, or a tourney in KC, Wichita, Springfield, etc., or bowling in one of a variety of leagues myself.  I remember bowling as a teen, working the Phillips 66 tournaments as an official 'scorekeeper', a lost art now replaced by computer scoring.  I remember earning trophies and patches out the wazoo; plus having all of the accoutrement's required for the sport, which included various balls for the lane conditions, gloves, shoes, chalk, etc.  I loved it.

In July of '77 I got married to Pam.  Not long thereafter she became pregnant with Jackie.  We joined a fall bowling league, and our team name was "The French Connection" because the other couple we bowled with also had a French name.  Pam was miserable bowling, not that she was bad; just that the waddle to the foul line as a 7,8,9 month preggo was quite uncomfortable, and not enjoyable.  Jackie was birthed in April of '79, and our season ended a few weeks after that.  So did my bowling 'career'.

I was decent, carrying an average in the 190's for most of my older bowling life (please remember, I was only 22 in '79, so I'd not yet had a very long life), never did have a 200 season average, and never did have a 300 game, but somewhere in the 190's is not a bad game.  My Dad though was always very good, carrying right at a 200 average for most of his bowling life.

Then, something happened.  After Jackie was born, I pretty much walked away from bowling.  I had grown tired of the smoke and beer smells, mainly the smoke.  Over the last 34 years, I know it is not a stretch to say that I probably have not bowled 12 games total, maybe not 9 or 10 games; it could easily be in the single digits.

Until yesterday.

As part of my take back my life campaign, I joined a Super Seniors league in Broken Arrow bowling on Thursday afternoons.  Don't laugh just yet.  Bowling Seniors start at 50, and while I am still a spry 55; the average age was definitely around 70.  The place was full, with 18 teams of Seniors bowling in this league.  There are so many Seniors in south BA that they had to have two leagues.  The other senior league is on Tuesday afternoons, and it too has 18 teams.

I knew I was destined to walk into the land of 'denim on denim', but to my amazement, there was not a single bowler yesterday dressed in that garb.  Not one.  Still surprising.

So, how did I do on my first day back after a 34 year hiatus?  Well, I did 'okay'.  I did not embarrass myself.  I had an average score of 165.  Well below what I used to bowl.  I had secretly hoped to have an average of at least 125, so I was pleased with the average of 165.  Not being too boastful, but I think I can make it to 180 by the end of this 3 month season.  Yesterday was the first time I had used the ball in this picture, and I need to get used to it.  See, this ball is my Dad's ball.  By today's ball standards, it is a relic.  An antique.  It does nothing fancy.  But, it's still got plenty of strikes left in it, and if I can make it to a 180 average with a 45 year old ball, after a 34 year layoff, then I'll be happy.

My 165 average was the best on my team, and on the team we played; but I really never thought that an average like that would be considered at such a high level of play.  5 lanes down from me was a 72 year old man, who 'rolled in' with 4 bowling balls.  He started each game with 5 strikes in a row, had a high score of 269, and rolled a 713 series for a 238 average.  He bowls in 5 leagues a week.  One of the geezers I was bowling next to said that this man usually shoots about 210 in most leagues. 

72 years old, with a 210 average, and today with a 238 average.  Wow, now that is impressive.

My Dad just retired from bowling, and he gave me his ball.  He said it was hurting too much to bowl, so he walked away from a game that he'd enjoyed for 75 years. 

I had the ball re-drilled last week to fit my hand, and decided out of nostalgia to continue the family tradition.  Week one in the books.  Thanks Dad. 

 

Welcome Home Joe!

I cry.

Real men love Jesus, their wives, their parents, their children, their family, and they cry.  I must be a real man.  I am crying now.  Big deal.  I'm still so happy that it's hard to contain my emotions.

I am not ashamed to cry; and although I don't do it very often, when it happens, it is hard to stop.  Yesterday was one such example of happy tears, and they were flowing freely.

I was deeply saddened and cried in private when my baby girl wept on my shoulders during Joe's departure 231 days ago.  It was the same kind of sadness and weeping that I experienced after the OKC bombing when I felt the explosion in my body from a safe distance of 8 miles away.  The same kind of sadness after 9/11, the same kind of sadness with the deaths of Grandpa, Papaw, and Nanny.

Yesterday was happy tears though.  It was all I could do to hold it together in the lobby standing with the 100's of other family members.  And then when we saw these men walking down the hall, the claps and cheers started; and that's when I lost it. 

Relief.  It was finally over.  Joe was home.  Alive.  With all of his body parts intact.  I truly hope, with every fiber of my being, that this is the last time he will have been deployed.

I am proud of Joe, proud that he is willing to serve our country, and proud that he is my son in law, and loves my daughter, and loves my two grand-daughters.  But, I still want him home.  For good.

I love you Joe.  Welcome home. 

- Dad

Emma Jo

This is my precious little Spaz.  I love how grown up she is starting to look.  She turns 5 next month, and told me today that when she turns 8 that she won't have to use a car seat.  I love looking at her hands and fingers.  Those are my Dad's, so really it is 4th generation fingers.  My Dad, then me, and then my other daughter Jackie got them, and now Emma Jo does too.

I had the pleasure of entertaining her this morning as part of my 'take back my life' campaign.  I've not had a life for 2 months now, which is why I only posted one blog in March, one in April, and this is my first one in May.

For the past 2 months, my life has been consumed with work.  Period.  Not much time for me, or my wife, my family, friends; just work for 6, 6.5, or 7 days a week, week after week, month after month.  A very good week is 55 hours squeezed into 5.5 days.  Bad weeks are those that hit triple digits.

It's spring, and spring means giving up your life with our line of hardscaping work.  Kind of like a CPA gives up his life every Jan.1st to April 15th during their peak tax filing season.

So, my 'take back my life' campaign began in earnest 3 weeks ago with a commitment to take off Thursday afternoons; and I have.

Today though, not a Thursday, but a Friday, I picked up my little gurl and headed for the hills (as in Stone Wood Hills), as she had Target in her sights.  She loves Target, and we spent well over an hour there.  Her haul filled the U-Haul trailer at the loading dock that we had delivered for the occasion.

The only thing left to fit in my truck was a princess swimsuit, a princess puzzle, a princess pencil, and sandals for a princess since she couldn't find one with an actual princess emblem on them...

Lunch was at Panda, where she inhaled Orange Chicken, and wanted to sit by me, where she snuggled up next to me to stay warrmee, and it also made it closer for her to hug and kiss me; which melted my heart about 1/2 way through the lunch.  Oh, that's so sweet Emma, I should have brought in a 2nd U-Haul just for you. 

Her Daddy gets home in the morning from being deployed in Berzerkistan for the last 9 months, and Emma is so exited, she told me about it 3 times today.  She was headed for a pedicure with flags on her toes when I took her back home.

I love you Emma Jo; see you in the morning at the airport.  I too am quite excited to see your Dad.

- Pappy