Last Sunday afternoon, because I was not ready to leave Rochester, New York, I walked gamely into Bowl-a-Roll Lanes, an old-timey alley on Jefferson Road just beyond the shopping malls and freeway entrances. Most of the house balls were too small for my wide fingers, but I found a 16-pounder that fit well enough. I bowled a 146 for the first game and 169 for the second, both very good scores for a duffer like me. But that 16-pound bowling ball, that was brutal. For the next few days I suffered a sore back and sore legs and a stiff butt and other aches and pains. Here on Thursday, August 24th, I finally am feeling a little better.
I was in Rochester to bring my son Maxwell to college, where he is now, officially a freshman. We departed the house Saturday morning after a group hug with his mom and little brother, and off we drove westbound on Interstate 90, aka the Mass Pike and the New York Thruway. We stopped in Albany for a Target run and lunch, then a night at the Best Western, and then…just like that, he’s in his dorm room and ready for me to take off. Which I do, of course, but only after a photo and some Dad-like advice (“You’re always welcome to call home. Any day, any time, any reason.”)
So I hung around Rochester for a while. I checked out the local thrift stores, I hung out at the local Barnes & Noble, I bought a new pair of shoes (which I desperately needed), and then the bowling. The one important accomplishment was finalizing and printing the invitations for my father’s memorial get-together, to be held in Minnesota in a couple months.
My father died in February, my older son graduated high school in June and is now a college freshman, my younger son is enrolled in first grade, the puppy has mostly figured out how to be a household dog, my wife thinks we should buy a Prius or something similar, and me…I’m still writing about it all.
When I finally turned the car eastward for the long trip home, it dawned on me that I wanted a hamburger for dinner, and the logical place to have it was Utica, New York. I discovered “Babe’s”, a kind of half family restaurant, half biker bar. Here’s the summary of the place from the Internet:
“Colorful booths, posters & neon signs dress up this casual American haunt with weekday happy hours.”
I think if your restaurant is going to succeed in a smallish city, you need as wide a customer base as possible. Somehow you’ve got to appeal to everybody who might walk in. You need to both be colorful and haunting. You need posters and happy hours. You need to dress up your casualness.
The hamburger was pretty good.
In today’s news, former U.S. President What’s-His-Name boarded his private airplane, flew to the international airport in Atlanta, entered a motorcade, and then surrendered at the Fulton County Jail. He was released after posting bail, but we now have a mug shot of the man, looking defiant as always.
Hillary Clinton called it a moment of terrible sadness for our country. I applaud her magnanimity.
Sometimes my life feels exactly like it should be, but some parts feel like the wrong pathway in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. Remember them? The proper way to read these books was to complete every possible path and discover all the possible outcomes—which, of course, was also how the books were written. Real life doesn’t get to be manipulated like that, does it? No rewinding the clock, no do-overs. History unfolded in only one way. We only get to influence the future.
That’s all I got for now. Make today a good day for yourself, whenever you happen to be reading these sentences.
