The car is put into park in the dark parking lot of the bowling alley. Rain descends, prompting hurried feet. The building door opens and we walk inside. It’s bowling time.
Friends congregate, treats are consumed, and heavyweight spheroids enjoy the frictionless motion governed by Newtonian laws. The gutters are greedier than the pins, but regardless of where the ball ends up the hurler offers up a dance to the bowling gods, a laugh of disappointment, or a thrill of surprise. This has been the states of bowling regardless of the bowler’s age, across all known ages of my life.
The conversations, the dancing, the music, the flashing lights, the cheap food, the magic of self-returning balls - it is its own realm of simple enjoyment. Bowling won’t sell out stadiums, it’s rather boring compared to action sports. But that doesn’t stop anyone from enjoying it, and that’s why it’s a gift to humanity.
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Bryan lives somewhere at the intersection of faith, fatherhood, and futurism and writes about tech, books, Christianity, gratitude, and whatever’s on his mind. If you liked reading, perhaps you’ll also like subscribing: