Bowling at the Shamrock

Hello, and, why, yes, I am so happy the furnace is working. Unopened for three days on the kitchen table, the bill taunted me silently. What does a silent taunt sound like? It sounds like $275, that's what! The fan was kaput. Brian the Furnace Guy left the old one there on the utility room floor. I picked it up and shook it. It sounded like a very large baby rattle, only less tinkly and more expensive. Also a little mocking, as in, there goes that little bit of a float you were eyeing in the checkbook balance! But I'm grateful for a warm house once more. The holiday party last night wasn't so bad. And yes, no miracle occurred to supply me with a hot date for the occasion. I'll save that miracle for later. An interesting thing happened as I was waiting in line at the bar. The young man behind the bar looked familiar, and as I was perusing the wine list, it became clear to me why. I heard my name, looked up, and the young man's mother was grinning and heading toward me and gave me a big, fat hug. Being a fan of big, fat hugs, I reciprocated. LeAnne Bailey and her husband, Mike, own the place. And Mike the younger was behind the bar. LeAnne and Mike the elder and my boyfriend at the time and I comprised a bowling team over 25 years ago. When Mike the younger was just a tot in diapers, which I changed a time or two, his parents and my boyfriend and I tore up the lanes at the local bowling alley and won a couple of league awards for it. If I were to brave the cobwebs on top of the bookcase down in the family room, I'd know why.* And possibly even experience a flood of warm memories associated with that era of my life, though not about the boyfriend at the time. From whom I learned a few substantial things during the time we were together, among them the oral contraceptive and mastery of the manual transmission. But I digress. I knew the Baileys had built the Shamrock, but was not aware they were in charge of the place as owners, but it seems to be something of a family affair running the place. The food was quite good, and I've been meaning to show up for their last Friday of the month seafood buffet which I have heard people rave about. I lose track sometimes of how long I have lived here and the many circles of people I have been a part of. My memory creates compartments of these different eras as if they existed in completely separate and different places, the only common thread being me. But even as I have been busily weaving the fabric of my life, the others that I have known continue with theirs. I wonder if they were just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. Mostly I was surprised to see a bartender whose diaper I had changed. And to my credit, I didn't bring it up. I just ordered the Chardonnay.

*2nd Place Team, Friday Night Twilight League, 1982-83