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ham sandwich…

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I truly am sleepless in Seattle. So much ahead. So much keeping me restless…

Tonight for no reason an act of complete generosity caught me off guard. I was at a bowling ally unlike any I have ever been to before. It was bright, happy, smoke free and family filled. The owners were courteous and polite, an happy to have us as guests.

As I lined up on the lane, a man and his wife watched over their adorable kids, whom bowled with perfect bowling etiquette in the lane next to us… (Yes, there is an etiquette to bowling.) As I watched in awe, their 4 year old daughter picked up an 8lb ball and rolled a down the middle strike. I walked up and told the parents it was incredible to see kids with such manors. As I picked up the ball, I threw a meager 4 pin first frame. The father came up to me and handed me a ball, and said, “put this on for size… How’s that feel?”

The rubber center grips felt clean and sturdy. I said… “Great! Thanks.”

He said, “It’s yours… Have fun. It’s a great ball.”

I smiled and went to work on the ball… Learning it. Getting a feel for its cut. I have been rolling spin for years now, but I have never made the move to use a three finger roll… I forewent the extra step and left my thumb out. I rolled my first game in a similar fashion. I rolled a lousy 76. One of the worst games I’ve thrown since I was a 5 year old kid with the bumpers down…

I looked at the ball… Closely. It’s colors were deeply inlaid. It had a presence. As though it had a story. I heard the dad say again… “It’s a great ball.”

I looked up at him, and back down to the ball, whose thumb hole faced up at me… As I examined it, I noticed an etching next to the hole… A key. I put my thumb in, and presented the lane, prepared to throw the ball the way it was meant to be thrown. A three finger spinning strike filled the frame.

I looked up to see the gentleman smiling at me, as he left the lanes with his family in arm. I finished the second game with a 164. By no means my best scoring round, but without a doubt the best game I have thrown to date. At the end of the evening, as I returned my shoes, I asked the owner about the ball… Partially because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t the lanes’ ball.

He told me, “It’s a special ball. It’s a storm. It’s a great ball.”

I told him how the gentleman presented it to me, and he just stood and smiled. “What a generous man”, I said.

“He really is…” The owner replied. “He really is.”

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…to rocks.

Suit for building in fact. A place to set a steady bed to rest a steady head. Never moving. The foundation’s very foundation in fact. Its hard to set anchor in a lot of things through life. The feet always seem to be moving on top of them damn rocks so fast. With out notice to the actual wear of a tire. Until one day a park gets in the way. A stubborn park drive with a bunch of stubborn rocks surrounded by some pesky trees.

The study of rocks is after all only the notice of wear. The wear of years and the wear of weather. The wear…

 
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Posted by on December 15, 2010 in Introduction

 

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