Just A Gal From Glidden: Apparently, I’m a senior now
By Kate Winquist
I did a thing last week.
It was one of those spontaneous ADHD decisions. I was at home with my feet up, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, when I came across a Facebook post from a friend wondering if anyone wanted to join her Wednesday afternoon bowling league. She was looking for four teammates.
I immediately sent her a private message.
“Bowling? Sounds like fun!”
“R u in?”
Well, why wouldn’t I be?
The Kindersley Bowl-A-Drome was where I learned to bowl in the YBC leagues. I enjoyed it. I also liked getting those little badges and selling chocolate-covered almonds for fundraisers.
Actually, I think my Dad bought most of those. He may have had a wee bit of a sweet tooth.
I even had my picture in the Kindersley Clarion one year for bowling the high single. I’m sure I clipped it out and have it tucked away somewhere.
Martina Heine, Patty Wagner, Andrew Richardson, Jack Mullock... those are some of the names I remember from my YBC days.
A few years later, when I was in Grade 11 — I think it was Grade 11 — I joined an adult bowling league. The Liquor Board team, to be exact.
There was Trina Koska and her dad, Steve, who managed the Liquor Store, along with Joe Shedlowski, Herb Cullen and Bonnie.
Sorry, Bonnie. I cannot for the life of me remember your last name!
I do remember having fun, though. And a lot of teasing.
After college, I landed a job in Lethbridge. I didn’t know a soul in the city other than the people I worked with, who were all quite a bit older than me.
It was 1990. I was 21 years old and needed something to do.
So naturally, I joined a ladies’ evening bowling league.
They told me there were two ladies looking for another teammate. Great! Sign me up.
I arrived the first night and met Alice and Irma, whose combined ages were probably at least 160.
They were wonderful.
Both widowed and the best of friends, they were also complete opposites. Alice was a hoot. Looking back, she reminded me a little of Sophia from The Golden Girls. She had a great sense of humour and could be just a wee bit crass.
Irma was very prim and proper and wouldn’t say you-know-what if her mouth was full of it.
Somehow, the three of us made quite the team.
I only bowled with them for one season, but at the wind-up banquet I won the trophy for high single.
I originally remembered that game as a 292, but after doing a little digging, I discovered I had sold my 21-year-old self short.
It was 330.
THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY!
I don’t know who that woman was, but apparently she could bowl.
Fast forward 36 years.
Yes, I enthusiastically agreed to join this Wednesday afternoon bowling league. We found enough people for a team and everything was set.
There was just one small detail I hadn’t bothered to investigate.
I never actually asked what league I was joining.
Then another Facebook post from the Bowl-A-Drome appeared on my phone.
SENIORS BOWLING LEAGUE — NEW MEMBERS WELCOME!
Excuse me?
SENIORS?!
When on earth did that happen?
Apparently sometime between Alice and Irma and me needing to Google whether Motrin and Advil are the same thing.
We bowled our first three games this week and, just to really drive home how much time has passed, my grand total was…
299.
Not one game.
All three games.
At 21, I bowled a 330 single. At 57, I couldn’t match it with three games combined.
I’m pretty sure a 299 triple wouldn’t even have earned me a green badge in YBC.
I did, however, get the high score on our team in Game 2 with a mighty 128, thanks to a strike and spare in the final frame.
Still got it!
Well... parts of it.
The Bowl-A-Drome has changed since my YBC days, too. There’s electronic scoring now. No more keeping track with pencil and paper.
I imagine that change happened quite some time ago and I’m just a little behind the times.
Again: apparently I’m a senior.
I also used to own my own bowling shoes. I mentioned this to Robert, wondering aloud whatever happened to them.
Apparently he threw them out before we moved to Kindersley.
Those could have been the secret to my 330!
My teammate Adair has her own bowling balls, so naturally I tried them.
Maybe it was all in my head, but I swear I bowled better with Adair’s balls.
You can probably imagine where the conversation went from there.
“I like playing with your balls, Adair.”
Hey, we’re seniors. We’re allowed.
The funniest part is Adair admitted she didn’t buy them because they improved her game. She bought them because they were pretty pink and matched her bowling shoes — or at least the laces.
Now that is the kind of serious athletic commitment I can get behind.
I will admit I was a little stiff and sore afterward. A couple of Motrin helped and I’m considerably less creaky today.
Nothing says “athlete in her prime” quite like requiring anti-inflammatories after three games of five-pin bowling.
But you know what?
It was good to get out.
I laughed. I got some exercise. I spent an afternoon with some great people and rediscovered something I hadn’t done in years.
And next Wednesday, I’ll go back and do it again.
Maybe I’ll improve.
Maybe I’ll buy myself some pretty bowling shoes.
Maybe Adair will let me play with her balls again.
And somewhere up above, I have a feeling Alice is laughing her head off while Irma is absolutely horrified.
Apparently, this seniors thing might be fun after all.