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It occurs to me that I’ve never written about one of my grandfather’s chosen leisure-time activities … and if I don’t do it this week, it ain’t gonna happen.

So we head back to April 1969, to a room filled (no doubt) with cigarette smoke and the reek of beer, not to mention the rustle of chatter and the clack and rattle of wood against wood.

April 30, 1969.

April 30, 1969. The Mets and Yankees are both in third.

I don’t know that much about my grandpa’s kegling career. I’ve seen pictures of him lined up alongside his bowling teammates — I’m assuming they were co-workers, but maybe not.

I know my parents had his bowling ball (they probably still do) and maybe even a trophy or two he picked up over the years.

I don’t know how good he actually was … although that doesn’t really matter all that much. Unless you’re Earl Anthony, bowling is probably something you do to get out of the house and hang out with friends, not something you do to relentlessly hone your game.

I guess my grandpa was serious enough to buy his own ball at some point, which says something, but I don’t think he was that hardcore about bowling. I can’t remember his ever taking me bowling as a kid, or offering to. I had a dim awareness that he’d bowled years before, but it seemed like something from the remote past.

In fact, there’s a distant possibility that this calendar entry marked his last trip to the lanes — or, at least, his last trip as part of an organized league.

Several years of calendars mention a “final bowling” in late April, followed by a “bowling banquet” in early May. Like this:

May 7, 1969.

May 7, 1969. Artom Manor was a banquet hall in Norwalk; Google suggests they did a steady business in wedding receptions.

 

I don’t have his entire calendar for May 1970, but the pictures I have don’t show any bowling references.

Same deal for early May 1971: No references to a “bowling banquet.” (He happened to be flat on his back at the time recovering from a heart attack, but before he got sick, he didn’t write anything about bowling on his calendar.)

He stopped working at Time-Life in January 1970. So if his teammates were co-workers, he might have lost touch with them, or not been invited to return for future seasons.

So April 30, 1969, could have been my grandpa’s last evening in harness. I hope he enjoyed it, and that he picked up some spares.

A few other Bill Blumenau bowling moments:

May 3, 1962.

May 3, 1962. The bottom of this entry got cut off, but it indicates my grandpa’s bowling goes back just about to the beginning of this run of calendars. Maybe earlier.

May 4, 1966.

May 4, 1966. Chatham Oaks was another banquet place and caterer in Norwalk. Apparently it’s still around, run by the same family.

May 1967.

May 3 and 10, 1967. Note that the final night of bowling this year coincided with my grandparents’ wedding anniversary. Seems like he bowled anyway. Good man.

My real interest in my grandfather’s bowling entries really doesn’t have anything to do with his skill, or lack thereof. It has more to do with the idea of him as a social animal, taking part in one of America’s definitive leisure-time pursuits, going out at night with his friends.

I did not much get the chance to see my grandpa as a regular person, mingling with people he knew and shooting the breeze about work, family and the world. (Relatively few of us get to see our grandfathers this way, I think. And if we are, we are too young to appreciate what we’re seeing.)

It would have been interesting to attend one of these bowling nights to see my grandfather in that kind of setting. I’m sure my grandpa was not a dramatically different person in the company of friends and co-workers … but it still would have been cool to observe.

That’s about it. See you next week, one more time.

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