Pining for pin paraphernalia

COLUMN BY MATT PRANGER

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Pining for pin paraphernalia

posted 11/30/02
Every year since my early teens my mother -- known affectionately by my friends and colleagues as Matt's Mom -- has tortured me. The incessant prodding begins in August and continues through November. This 100-pound senior citizen doesn't relent.

I'm talking about my Christmas wish list. Ma starts asking what I wanted for a gift when I'm still be applying sunscreen. As the leaves turned to red, yellow and orange, and then fall, and the frost started coating the ground, Ma continues to call and asks for gift ideas. I always respond, "I don't know, don't buy me anything." Long after Christmas decorations start appearing on store shelves -- typically in early September -- I try to think of something to appease Ma. I usually suggest she buy me a shirt or sweater.

When the snow starts to fall in my hometown of Clinton, Iowa, Ma enlists my three sisters to pressure me into providing more gift ideas. So, since they're 2,000 miles away and out of reach of noogies, I leaf through some of the catalogs. They've been piling up to about waist height near the door for a trip to the recycling bin. I jot down a few items and relay them to Ma during our weekly chat. Of course, by then she has given up on me and purchases other stuff.

Now, so you don't think I'm a thoughtless procrastinator and a totally ungrateful child, I am not forthcoming with ideas for a good reason. My parents always spend too much money on their six children at Christmas. I always figured if I didn't provide any ideas, they might use their money on gifts for themselves. Of course my Ma never falls for this and just purchases presents anyway.

This year I have an early holiday gift for Ma: I know what I want for Christmas. I desire bowling paraphernalia. That's right, kegler accessories. With Paradise Lanes opening in the old San Juan Mercantile space, I need to equip myself for trips to the alley.

Ma should only have to make a trip to her attic to pick up a few of my gifts. Somewhere, under a 15-year-old layer dust, there are some dashing beige-and-green felt bowling shoes. A lime green bowling shirt should be hanging nearby. I wore these shoes and shirt -- one with a Chevrolet insignia embossed on most of the back and "Harold" stitched above the pocket -- when I was kegler in college. I did bowl on an intramural team but most of the kegs I tipped weren't the white with red stripes.

If my shoes and shirt have already been given away or thrown out, Ma should stop by Ragstock in Iowa City. This vintage clothing shop always carried the best selection of pre-worn bowling shirts. If the store closed its doors, Ma should just go to nearest bowling pro shop and by me a crying towel with one of those witty sayings on it.

I'm serious about reassembling my bowling outfit. I'm as thrilled as a goose in corn bin about knocking down the pins in Friday Harbor. The opening of Paradise Lanes this winter is perfect because I need to spend more time away from the TV and recreating.

This rings true for other islanders. I wish for them more:

Fun. Maybe I'm becoming to much of a Growler Jr., but it seems like islanders aren't finding as much enjoyment out of life. We need to play, laugh and smile much, much more. Go bowling, contra dancing, hiking in American Camp, potlucking, trivia playing, etc.
Tolerance. More and more islanders are unable to appreciate others' opinions. We should be able to disagree and then be civil, cordial, maybe even decent to each other. We would have a whole lot more of my first wish if we did.
Salmon. Not just for the two-legged but the finned and claw-footed islanders. The orcas deserve a steady diet fish. (Yeah, a lot of the salmon depletion is due to habitat destruction on the mainland, but I can still wish.)
Sunshine. It's supposed to be an El Nino winter, so this wish might come true. Of course we need the rain to keep the wells full, but it can fall steadily during the night.
Snow. This is for the little islanders who really should experience at least one white Christmas before they're adults. Of course, only a few inches of snow -- just enough to go sledding -- should fall and then melt in two days.

Noel.

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