Then Came Bowling
Those first years following T K's birth, now seem to me to be some of my good years. They were normal and wonderfully boring. The calm before the tumultuous years that were going to pile up on me.
W and I were the young couple who had it all. The home we wanted in the country with five acres backed by woods. Two boys who were totally different and kept me busy and entertained. I got to be a stay at home Mom. W and I had friends to play euchre (cards) with. We both loved to bowl and joined a Sunday night league, that I eventually became the sectretary/treasurer for. I also joined a Thursday afternoon womans league that also expanded our list of friends. I had first bowled with my parents and later substituted for Mom when she was too sick. W was new to the game, but took to it easily. Then JT wanted to bowl too and I became a Jr. League Coach. When I volunteered for that, the propriorter of our lanes offered me a chance to become a certified bowling instructor. He paid for and included me in Brunswick sponsered lessons offered to their employees. Once I was certified to teach, this wonderful man bought a bus and set up an after school program for kids. He picked them up after school at a different grade school each day of the week and I worked with them for two hours. Then their parents picked them up. We (JT, W and I) got to bowl all we wanted and TK had a playpen at the alley and later had the run of the concourse and the nursery sponsered by the lanes.
With all this experience, I got my average up to 182, with a high game of 268 and a high series that kept the record for women in our county for several years. (Till another bowling proprietor's kids grew up and smashed every record we had.) W kept his own average right up there with me (no records for him, the men were more competition) and we enjoyed competing with each other.
My brothers had married and the family grew and holidays were busy multi-family affairs. W's only sister had twin sons. His family treated both my boys as their own. By brother, S had a daughter 6 months older than TK. Brother J had gotten out of the Marines and married but didn't have kids. Mom's M.S. was in a period of remission. Life was going in the direction where life is good.
Not perfect. I never expected perfect. I was willing to overlook those little annoyances that everyone faces. W was sometimes too strict with JT, but I never saw any indication of a repeat of that first bruised bottom episode. But, my parents picked up on some of the strictness. We were all at my family one holiday and my brothers were playing with JT where you let a child stand on your toes and walk him around. JT would have been 6 or 7. When he wore the others out, he ran to W and stepped on the toes of his cowboy boots. To W, that was a no-no. His boots were always in high polish. He pushed JT away and the child sat down too hard. It upset everyone, but I tried to see W's side. But, the rift had started and my family never really liked W and was always very critical of his treatment of JT. It put me in the middle and upset me, but I never saw any real animosity and thought everyone was over reacting.
W was hard to live with in other ways. He'd been spoiled by Ruth. She spoiled her whole family. She never worked outside her home, which was always spotless. Her family always came first and were her whole world. W wasn't only particular about favorite foods, he went to the extreme of having to have certain brands. I was never allowed to buy anything but Pennington Bread. Skippy Peanut Butter. On and on. And he had a favorite chocolate cake recipe. It was made with lard. NEVER Crisco or any other substitute. And, get this, the lard and sugar had to be creamed by hand. I don't mean, with a spoon I mean getting my hands into the lard and sugar and letting my body warmth cream the mixture. He could tell if a mixer was used by the texture of the finished cake. It was a quirk that rather amused me and I didn't mind....when I was home all the time and off work and had the time to play housewife. But, it infuriated my Mother right from the beginning. She believed if I didn't put him in his place and knock some of the selfishness out of him early, I was going to be sorry later. And she wasn't shy about telling me so when we were alone.
So no, life wasn't perfect. But, it was close enough. and he was loyal and a hard worker. After living with G's infidelity, I was willing to enjoy what we had. But, it didn't last. The first horror slammed into us in 1973 when we lost Ruth. Not naturally. It never should have happened. And, it changed my world forever.
W and I were the young couple who had it all. The home we wanted in the country with five acres backed by woods. Two boys who were totally different and kept me busy and entertained. I got to be a stay at home Mom. W and I had friends to play euchre (cards) with. We both loved to bowl and joined a Sunday night league, that I eventually became the sectretary/treasurer for. I also joined a Thursday afternoon womans league that also expanded our list of friends. I had first bowled with my parents and later substituted for Mom when she was too sick. W was new to the game, but took to it easily. Then JT wanted to bowl too and I became a Jr. League Coach. When I volunteered for that, the propriorter of our lanes offered me a chance to become a certified bowling instructor. He paid for and included me in Brunswick sponsered lessons offered to their employees. Once I was certified to teach, this wonderful man bought a bus and set up an after school program for kids. He picked them up after school at a different grade school each day of the week and I worked with them for two hours. Then their parents picked them up. We (JT, W and I) got to bowl all we wanted and TK had a playpen at the alley and later had the run of the concourse and the nursery sponsered by the lanes.
With all this experience, I got my average up to 182, with a high game of 268 and a high series that kept the record for women in our county for several years. (Till another bowling proprietor's kids grew up and smashed every record we had.) W kept his own average right up there with me (no records for him, the men were more competition) and we enjoyed competing with each other.
My brothers had married and the family grew and holidays were busy multi-family affairs. W's only sister had twin sons. His family treated both my boys as their own. By brother, S had a daughter 6 months older than TK. Brother J had gotten out of the Marines and married but didn't have kids. Mom's M.S. was in a period of remission. Life was going in the direction where life is good.
Not perfect. I never expected perfect. I was willing to overlook those little annoyances that everyone faces. W was sometimes too strict with JT, but I never saw any indication of a repeat of that first bruised bottom episode. But, my parents picked up on some of the strictness. We were all at my family one holiday and my brothers were playing with JT where you let a child stand on your toes and walk him around. JT would have been 6 or 7. When he wore the others out, he ran to W and stepped on the toes of his cowboy boots. To W, that was a no-no. His boots were always in high polish. He pushed JT away and the child sat down too hard. It upset everyone, but I tried to see W's side. But, the rift had started and my family never really liked W and was always very critical of his treatment of JT. It put me in the middle and upset me, but I never saw any real animosity and thought everyone was over reacting.
W was hard to live with in other ways. He'd been spoiled by Ruth. She spoiled her whole family. She never worked outside her home, which was always spotless. Her family always came first and were her whole world. W wasn't only particular about favorite foods, he went to the extreme of having to have certain brands. I was never allowed to buy anything but Pennington Bread. Skippy Peanut Butter. On and on. And he had a favorite chocolate cake recipe. It was made with lard. NEVER Crisco or any other substitute. And, get this, the lard and sugar had to be creamed by hand. I don't mean, with a spoon I mean getting my hands into the lard and sugar and letting my body warmth cream the mixture. He could tell if a mixer was used by the texture of the finished cake. It was a quirk that rather amused me and I didn't mind....when I was home all the time and off work and had the time to play housewife. But, it infuriated my Mother right from the beginning. She believed if I didn't put him in his place and knock some of the selfishness out of him early, I was going to be sorry later. And she wasn't shy about telling me so when we were alone.
So no, life wasn't perfect. But, it was close enough. and he was loyal and a hard worker. After living with G's infidelity, I was willing to enjoy what we had. But, it didn't last. The first horror slammed into us in 1973 when we lost Ruth. Not naturally. It never should have happened. And, it changed my world forever.
posted by LeeAnn | 3:32 PM
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