Day 368 Small Town Girl

 Nothing says hometown USA like the local Bowling Alley, a place frozen in time and filled with memories. I'm thankful for places that can jar a memory just by walking in, hearing the sounds.  My grandfather and his friend, Bernie, built our local bowling alley back in the 1950's, it was his pride and joy (aside from me of course). My dad worked there as a teen, my sister worked in the coffee shop in the late 70's. Although my grandfather died of a heart attack in '75, Bernie continued to treat us like family every time we visited.  The bowling alley is now owned by Bernie's son Robert, who continues to extend the same hospitalities and kindness. In my memories I can see my Grandpa leaning back against the counter, smoking a cigar with a big smile on his face. He was such a great man, kind, funny, a talented carpenter that was always eager to help with any project and of course, the best Grampa a girl could have. He served on SK Town Council, was active in our community and was well respected by everyone in town. My dad just about busted with pride when I was elected to SKTC, holding a seat that my grandfather once held. He beamed with excitement and told me countless times how proud my grandfather would be of me. Imagine how happy he would be to see his beloved bowling alley still going strong all these years later and how often I visit for dinner? There's a reason folks like me never move away, the community land and memories run through my veins and sustain me. There's a safety net a home town provides, comfort in feeling the love of ancestors and pride in preserving what they once held dear. Call me a small town girl anytime and just watch me smile!