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  • Writer's pictureParker DePond

Blowing Breeze to Bowling Balls

After a day of descent from Carter notch I went back home to the dorms to find Dev and Bex under blankets knitting little projects and sipping on warm drinks. Enthusiastically they asked me if I wanted to learn; matching their energy, I said “Sure! But let me shower first.” Dev said “Yeah good, you stink”. Was she joking? Was she not? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? The world may never know.


Cozy, comfortable, and content, I attempted to knit as we all sipped on tea and split a little too. In short order we shuffle our way to the mess hall for our strict 17:00 dinner bell. We only have 30 mins to eat before guests arrive and ‘the help’ has to go hide.

Almost falling asleep on the couch with a full stomach, our phones bling with a group chat notification. Andrew and some others are going to go to a bowling alley in Berlin. After quiet contemplation and a break from contentment, we agree that we will go.


We walked into this building straight out of the 70s, back when Berlin was a booming sawmill town. The only thing that was newer than the 70s was the two-tone cat and the half painted ceiling. The shoes, the balls, and the pins had not been replaced since.

There weren't even TVs hanging from the ceiling, we had to do old-school math on paper to keep track of scores.




After some Shirley temples and beers, I somehow won the first game and lost our second 5-frame game. Graciously said our thankyous to the owner/bartender/clerk and her cat before cuddling in the back of a car for our drive to Pinkham.


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