Peace On Earth and The Bowling Team

I wonder who invented bowling shirts.  And why.

First of all, it was my husband's bowling team.  Initially I thought the Tuesday GTE Men's League was just an excuse to get out of the house, drink beer, and eat pizza.  But the guys were serious about their bowling.  They may have been quiet accountants by day, but by night (well, Tuesday nights, at least) they were transformed into The Beancounters, five guys packing custom-drilled bowling balls, matching team shirts, their very own bowling shoes, and little tiny bottles of baby powder.  Wednesday mornings were marked by feverish data entry into a Lotus spreadsheet followed by hours and hours of analysis of the team's standing in the league.  The Stats were always in the backs of The Beancounters' minds because it all culminated in the big event of the spring:  The Bowling Banquet.

I'll tell you how big of a deal the bowling banquet was: if you were dating a guy and he took you to the banquet, you knew he was serious about your relationship.   The league only bowled during the winter months, ostensibly when there was little else to do in the bleak frozen Midwestern landscape.   I suppose you could say that the bowling year ended officially in April.

At my first Bowling Banquet with my future husband
who was being, um, serious.

And that is one reason my husband and I were married in May.  With all the bowling duties officially out of the way, The Beancounters could relax a little and do other things, like mow their lawns, wave as their kids went off to prom, or attend weddings.   A highly social bunch, The Beancounters tended to band together for these big events.   And so it was that following my second Bowling Banquet my future husband and I were presented with a big box.  It was a wedding gift from the team.  It was an entire set of Farberware stainless steel cookware.

Take a moment to get your breath, because that is what I had to do.  I was bowled over, to say the least.   It was by far the best gift ever and incidentally one that we still enjoy to this day, after nearly a quarter century of wedded bliss.  I rarely put a pan on the stove without the memory of The Beancounters flitting through my thoughts.  Now is the time to tell you that The Beancounters also included a sub-group; their wives.  I never think of the guys on the team without remembering their wives, too.  That Farberware wedding gift was symbolic of all of The Beancounters relationships:  classy, tough, enduring.

Not the cake I ordered.  The little bowling
pin was nestled in my groom's tuxedo
pocket all through the ceremony, and he
 waited until all eyes were upon us at the cake-cutting
to reveal this little surprise.

Well played, new husband.  Well played.

Pretty much the exact moment I became a Bowling Wife.
Incidentally, it was also the exact moment that I perfected
my Exasperated Sigh/Eye Roll technique.

At that time cellular service was merely a dot on the veritas horizon, but we all sensed that GTE was changing.  First one couple was transferred away, and then another, and another.  There was a reunion of sorts when most of the group ended up in Irving TX, but only for a couple of years.  More transfers and retirements further spread The Beancounters over the South, Southeast, Midwest, and mid-Atlantic.  Our physical get-togethers were replaced by long distance communication.

~

This year on Christmas Eve, when I put the big Farberware skillet on the stove to make my husband's favorite braised beef, when I put the two quart pan on to heat some milk for hot chocolate, I will remember -- always fondly -- The Team:  Kay and Mark, Carol and Ron, Judy and Steve, Mary and Phil, and especially Judy and Jim.

And I will be filled with peace.