Spare Me

A familiar sound filled our living room tonight, as we gathered around the tube for family game night. The sound of a ball hitting pins brought me back to my own childhood game nights, only mine involved a real bowling alley and the hot pursuit of a trophy. My parents were on the Friday night league.

At the end of every workweek, my sister and I would pile into our Dodge Colt. Heading downtown, my parents sported bowling bags and wrist guards, hoping to win the night's tournament. While grown ups sipped on soda and worked on wrist technique, us kids would hang around in the locker area, trying to stay out of trouble. We played with everything from the cigarette machines to napkins and straws. Life was simple, innocent and sweet.

So many of my childhood memories include a bowling alley. Like the time that my mom brought me to the bowling alley while I was achy with a fever. I curled up on one of the hard bowling benches, and tried to fall asleep. Out of nowhere, two older boys ran by and one jumped over the back of the bench and landed on me. Very traumatic.

Then there was the time that my sister choked on a green Lifesaver. I can't tell you why I remember that it was green. Even today I don't let my kids have Lifesavers. Then there was the year that I bowled on a league myself. It was a kid's league. I had my own bowling ball - a cobalt blue beauty with my name inscribed in white.

As we tucked games and joysticks away tonight, I got a chuckle out of how closely the Wii characters resembled every member of our family. The smell of floor polish and smoke was not present in our home tonight, but simple memories of just being a kid were. Bowling may not end up meaning as much to my own kids someday, but with a little bit of practice and determined repetition, hopefully a Wii remote will.