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of a very bright moon spotlighted the black, undulating water
slowly crawling toward the Gulf. An idea was born.
It was really late. We stopped the car in the middle
of the bridge. With great ceremony I lifted the errant
ball above my head and heaved it over the side of the
bridge into a watery grave while the girls hummed
TAPS.
Even heaving the mangled ball into the watery grave
was not enough to make this tournament stand out from all
of the other tournaments and the good times the girls
experienced. It was the headlines in the newspaper the next
morning that makes this event a standout memory:
Fishing boat sinks near Poplar Street Bridge
Florence panicked. Had she torpedoed a fishing boat
with a bowling ball? Then common sense set in, blood
pressure returned to normal, the pounding in her head
ceased.
The bowling league traveled to Chicago for the
Hoinki Classic. As the day’s events came to a close the girls
began to discuss evening plans. For no reason at all they
decided they wanted to see Old Chicago. The men’s team
bowling in the next lane overheard their plans and tried to
discourage them citing the many crimes in the neighborhood.