Bowling was what my parents did on their first date. My mother's winning bowling score on that occasion was a topic of discussion for years to come.
Bernie Nemiroff who lived two house away on our cul-de-sac was my father's constant companion in the bowling league. Sam Lotto, who lived across the street would sometimes come out for the league. And Joe Brenner, another long-time friend was also often there.
But, as the years went on, most of my father's friends moved on. Several moved to Florida from New York; others moved to be closer to children and grandchildren. My parents stayed put in the Long Island house they'd owned since 1952 and my father made new bowling friends.
When my father passed on about a month after by-pass surgery in July 2002, my brother and I tried to contact relatives and acquaintances about his death.
Unfortunately, both my brother and I had moved away and were not familiar with most of his more recent bowling companions. I still regret not being able to contact them to tell them about my father.
In clearing out my father's things from the house, the prized possession for both my brother and me were Dad's bowling shirts. We each took a couple to keep.