I have no idea why clowns scare the hell out of me.
When I was in sixth grade I joined a junior bowling league. It was started by my goofball friend Greg. Greg was kinda weird. All he would ever talk about was how good a bowler everyone in his family was. We actually gave him a nickname of "Balls" for awhile just to shut him up about bowling. His father was a big time amateur bowler and Greg thought it would be cool if we started our own league. He managed to talk ten of us into joining.
The league started 15 minutes after school let out and you had to be there on time. One problem. The bowling alley was about one long mile from the school. All of our parents worked, so we had no ride. This meant every wednesday at 3:30 you'd see ten sixth graders running down the street struggling to carry their bowling ball bags. It was quite a sight. We were complete dorks.
One day a bunch of "big kids" in a camaro pulled up next to us. We could smell the pot smoke drifting from inside the car. They yelled out "run you morons" and "Hurry up you douchebags". We tried to ignore them but they drove slowly next to us laughing and getting more creative with the insults. I was getting really pissed off, all of us were.
I looked around for Greg. He was up the street a few houses and had stopped to open his bowling bag. "What the hell is that goofball doing?" I thought. Greg reached in and took out his bowling ball. He put his fingers in the holes and looked back at the camaro which was inching up the street. I remember thinking to myself "No fucking way" as he stood on the sidewalk in the classic bowlers stance. The guys in the camaro saw Greg and realized what he was going to do. They punched the gas pedal trying to gun it past Greg. But Greg you see, Greg ....was a damned good bowler, he timed it well. He lofted the ball over the small stretch of grass and into the street. It bounced twice and slammed into the front quarter panel of the camaro.
The last thing I remember is someone yelling "RUN!" as the guys came out of the camaro after us. We all ran like the devil was after us but those guys were too stoned to get a good chase on us. We all got away but five of us lost our bowling balls that day. The big kids took every one of them. That was the last time we went to our bowling league. We knew those guys in the camaro were out there, somewhere.
We all kinda looked up to Greg after that. He wasn't such a goofball.
He was a really good bowler.
Send em some love.
Arlene and Phyllis
Suddenly I'm kinda hungry.
It strange how a picture can bring up a memory of something you haven't thought about for years and years.
When I saw the socks in this pic, I had flashbacks to a childhood memory. My mom took me to Sears to buy some underwear and socks. Mom was always looking for a bargain whenever she shopped so it wasn't long before she found the socks that were on sale. One problem. They were all the same color as the socks this guy's wearing. I pleaded with my mom not to buy the butt ugly, light blue socks but nothing I could say would change her mind. She could never pass up a bargain...she bought the damned socks.
There was no way I was going to wear those socks to school. I had gym class third period and I'd never hear the end of it from the other kids. So everyday in the morning, after mom dropped me off at school, I'd take off my socks and hide them in a bush outside the school.
To this day I refuse to wear anyhing that's that color blue.
Sorry to be so topical. I can't help myself.
Go see Mike at Satan's Laundromat. He has wonderful photographs.
I was talking on the phone to my friend Nick who runs the site The Boat Lullabies. I asked him to keep an eye out for photos of people flashing the "metal sign". When we met for lunch this afternoon he gave me this gem of a pic.
When I get old.
I want to be able to swing like this guy.
A typical class photo.
In a typical 1952 town.
Until you notice the one thing that makes this one not so typical.
The kid in the bowtie flashing the metal sign.
Rock on Chicago.