Yesterday afternoon, speculating on whether or not the local schools I work with here in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area would be closed due to the weather, I tweeted, "Snow day in Dallas schools tomorrow? Will I finally be able to visit the International Bowling Museum in Arlington? Fingers crossed!"
Well, lo and behold, I woke up to the sound of ice pelting my hotel room window, and when I looked out, there was a sheet of snow and ice on the roads -- not much by northeast standards, but here, enough to close the schools.
After doing some reports on my computer, and answering a few work emails, I looked at the tweet again and thought, ah, what the hell? So I bundled up as best I could with what I brought with me and walked about a block and a half to the museum. As you might have guessed, I was virtually the only patron in the place, which makes sense. I don't think a whole lot of people get up the morning of an ice storm and say, "I know, I'll go to the bowling museum."
I have to say... I loved it. I loved the International Bowling Museum. The woman at the gift shop was extremely friendly, and she was happy to give me a discount (we called it an "educator's discount," but we both knew it was a get-somebody-in-the-door discount). I learned a few things I didn't know, like that it's possible bowling originated in Egypt 6,000 years ago, and how bowling balls are manufactured.
But when I thought about it over lunch afterwards, I understood that it wasn't the cool stuff I learned, or the highly interactive exhibits, including two miniature bowling alleys you could actually bowl on. It was the memories that place brought back. As I watched a clip on the birth of televised bowling on shows like Celebrity Bowling and Bowling for Dollars, I was transported back to the Saturday afternoons of my childhood, watching those very shows in our downstairs playroom. On the following Sunday mornings, we often got up early with my dad and headed down to our local bowling alley to bowl a few games. We got into it, and even had our own bowling balls, with our names etched into them. Mine was purple, and Mike's was green.
It gave me a smile thinking back on that time. It also gave me a desire to take my boys bowling with me -- just the three of us. I think it could become a tradition, just as it did for me, my brother and my dad. We bowl on the Wii all the time, but there's something about the sound and feel of a bowling alley that's special. I experienced it as a boy, and I want my sons to experience it, as well. Just as the memory of it warms me now, on this cold night alone in a hotel room in North Texas, I want the memories my boys and I make together to protect and comfort them throughout life's journey.
It occurs to me now that the Bowling Museum did exactly what it was designed to do. It made me nostalgic, it made me yearn to bowl, and, most importantly to them, I'm sure, it made me want to introduce a whole new generation to the sport. If you're ever in Arlington, I'd recommend you take the time to visit the International Bowling Museum and Hall of Fame.
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