Bowling memories

March 10, 2011

Dear Patty,

Jack held his pose -- each one different -- after throwing the ball down the lane.

Bella had to exchange her gold lam tennis shoes for those clunky shoes with numbers on them but twirled as she bowled all the same.

Their teammates Elijah and Serenity were used to it.

Luke knew that rolling the ball in the middle of the lane is a good idea. His teammates Dominic, Daley and Kelby got the idea, too. Daley approached the foul line by holding the 6-pound ball above her head the way a softball pitcher does. That worked for her.

Jillian, Bailey, Manessah and Tileya originally named themselves the Power Girls but switched to Power People when I joined their team.

Over on lane 12, Justice, Zyianna, Mason, Dereck and Zimira took their time and finished a couple of frames after everyone else. They were the E-Z bowlers.

Orange children's bowling balls and cheers filled the alleys at West Park Lanes earlier this week when DC and I took Ms. Gill's second-grade class to experience the simple joys of bowling. Fortunately, Ms. Gill and fellow Blanchard Schoolers Ms. Bohnsack, Ms. Pattengill and Ms. Berkbigler were there to supervise all of us.

For us 8-year-olds, the bowling alley raised the bumpers that prevent gutter balls. DC made a strike on a ball that would have dropped into the gutter. I found the bumpers useful, too.

Adult bowlers usually demonstrate only restrained appreciation for other bowlers' achievements. These kids believe in animated high-fives and raucous cheers for knocking down most any amount of pins. They have been taught good sportsmanship.

A few misaimed balls had to be retrieved from the wrong lane, and one prematurely thrown ball narrowly missed crashing into the pinsetter machine, but nowhere were the catastrophes of embarrassment that occur in the adult world. Just a lot of joy.

Most of us lose that unself-consciousness. Children remind us not to hold back.

For children, it's a thrill to do most anything different in the middle of a school day. When the girls in my own fifth-grade class left the room for choir rehearsal, Mr. Hunt let the boys get sodas in the teachers' lounge. We promised him we wouldn't tell. As if the orange and red circles around our mouths didn't give us away. As if we wouldn't tell anyway.

Only Ms. Gill didn't bowl because she is a month or so away from giving birth to her first child. The class is chronicling the progress of her pregnancy in a book they are writing. One week the fetus was the size of the lemon she brought to class. In no time it compared in weight to a bag of four navel oranges.

In no time, childhood becomes adulthood, when childhood becomes a collection of moments or joy or not. Adulthood is not so different.

As I prepared to throw my first ball of the day, Ms. Gill asked her students to watch and cheer me on. The first thing I did was wonder how I'd do. I didn't want to disappoint. Following Luke's lead, I threw my ball down the middle of the lane, and toward the end it swerved toward the pocket. Seventeen beautiful children screamed as all 10 pins fell.

Afterward Ms. Gill predicted the children will remember the day they went bowling in school for the rest of their lives. So will I.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a former reporter for the Southeast Missourian.