Funny preacher, or inspirational comedian?

Hi everyone.  

Sorry for the delay in posting.  I’ve been working hard, getting lots of gigs, unfortunately very few of them paid.  

The good news is that I’m making lots of great contacts, and business is growing.  

One gig has opened a few doors.  I’ve been looping for a comedy show the Barkin’ Dog bar and grill in Modesto, and getting some exposure.  Even though there were only three or four paying customers last Thursday night, one of them may hire me for a gig in May that could open some more doors.  I don’t know where all of these doors may lead, but as long as God keeps opening them I guess I’ll keep going through.  

I do sort of feel like I’m living several lives at once, sometimes.  Integrating all of these various activities can be challenging.  For example, at the comedy show, I have been surprise how much stand-up comedy resembles preaching.  The question is, am I a really funny preacher or an inspiration comedian?  Maybe a bit of both.  

I’ve looped at the Queen Bean a few more times, and am getting some gear together to make my equipment safe, and improve my sound.  Basically, I have four regular gigs now, but none of them pay.  Two are basically open-mic gigs, and two are church-related:  one is the monthly jazz service at the 1st United Methodist Church, and the other is a Taize service at the College Avenue Congregation Church.  

And then there’s the occasional preaching opportunity as well, and sharing music on Sunday mornings as a guest musician.  I led the music at my home church last weekend, and wondered if a prophet would be welcome in his hometown – it worked out just fine (i.e., not one person threatened to throw me off a cliff).  

But amidst all of the work and development of this arts ministry business; amidst the fulfillment that comes from using the gifts God has given me; the most important part of my life remains a work in progress – being a husband and father to an incredible family.

My wife is doing incredible ministry – helping to start new churches and pastoring a congregation.  I’m so proud of her, even though between the two of us, our busy schedules sometimes make it hard to connect.  

And my boys have been struggling with behavior at school.  When my youngest was born so prematurely, I struggled with figuring out how to be a father to a baby in an incubator.  Now, I wonder how to be a father to my two boys who are both so gifted.  I think they get bored at school, and are both extremely competitive (I have no idea where they get that – oh, wait, from both of their parents, I guess.).  

Anyways, I’m just trying to be the best model I can be.  Simon has been trying to “get even” at school with people who he thinks have done him harm.  So, I sat him down and read the passage about when Jesus healed the ear of the slave who one of Jesus’ followers had struck with a sword.  The boys were both pretty attentive.  It’s hard to get through to them, when all of the shows they watch seem to be about retributive justice and getting revenge on “the bad guys.”  I think they got what I was trying to say.  Jesus didn’t come to beat the bad guys, but to save them with grace and forgiveness.  Sure, it’s good to be strong, but its better to be compassionate.

too young, too old

Here are the lyrics to the jazz song that I wrote about the life of Jesus:

“Too Young, Too Old”

Copyright 2001 Michael Carlson and Dave Seely

TOO YOUNG, TOO OLD

C7   D7+5  B7+5    Em

VERSE ONE

Em7                                Bm7

“He’s just a boy!” That’s what the elders said

Em7                         Bm7

“Who put this wisdom in his tender head?”

Am7                        C7

They were amazed at all he had to say

        Em/B              B7+5

`Til his mom burst in and drug him away.

CHORUS ONE

       Em  Em/D    A7/C#   Am/C

He was ang-rily collected;  

   Em     Em/D   A7/C# Cm/A

Embar-rassed and confused.

    Bm7             Em7

Too young to be respected,

     C7  D7+5  B7+5     Em

too old. . . . .to be excused.

VERSE TWO

Em7                  Bm7

Years later, home in Nazareth.

Em7                    Bm7

As a man he spoke with heaven’s breath.

Am7                            C7

But when he challenged ancient prejudice,

    Em/B                       B7+5

The tried to throw him off the nearest cliff.

CHORUS TWO

        Em   Em/D   A/C#  Am/C

He felt lone-ly & rejected;  

Em   Em/D      A/C#   Cm/A

Aggressive-ly refused.  

    Bm7            Em7

Too young to be respected,

     C7  D7+5  B7+5     Em

too old. . . . .to be excused,

VERSE THREE

Em7                      Bm7

He gained a following in later days.

Em7                         Bm7

That drove his critics to a jealous rage.

Am7                       C7

At thirty three he was condemned to die;

     Em/B                 B7+5

They nailed him down, and hung him high.

CHORUS THREE

       Em   Em/D          A7/C#  Am/C

It was just. . .as he’d expected, 

    Em  Em/D    A7/C#  Cm/A

His innocence  accused.

    Bm              Em7

Too young to be respected

     C7  D7+5  B7+5     Em

too old. . . . .to be excused.

BRIDGE

GMaj7                   CMaj7

Maybe you say you’re misunderstood

GMaj7                  CMaj7

Other folks think that you’re no good

Bm7                       Cm7

There was another one who suffered long

Am/C    A7/C             D7         B7

And rose again to sing a sweet love song

CHORUS FOUR

       Em  Em/D       A/C#  Am/C

You’ll soon. . .be resurrected;

     Em  Em/D             A/C#    Cm/A

When God heals. . . what’s been bruised

    Bm              Em7

The Young will be respected,

    C7  D7+5  B7+5     Em

The Old. . . . .they will be, too.

 

jazz vespers: making something beautiful for God

Tomorrow I’m going to another planning meeting for the jazz vespers service at the 1st United Methodist Church in town.  

I’ve been involved in a few jazz worship projects over the years.  At a big church in Louisville, Kentucky, I served as “Minister of Fine Arts.”  The senior pastor had arranged for jazz musicians to provide music for a Saturday evening service on a quarterly basis.  That was my first experience with jazz in worship.

The musicians played jazz arrangements of traditional hymns, but the structure of the service was pretty much the same as a traditional worship service.  The freedom and spontaneity of jazz music was contained by the rigid structure.  The music was great, but it seemed to fight the reigns and tried to go its own way, only to be restrained once again.  Even so, it was the only time a person of color was involved in worship as far as I can remember at the Saturday evening service.  (The bass player was African-American.)

For me, one of the most important aspects of jazz in America was the powerful force it represented for integration of cultures, be they white, African-American, Hispanic, or others.  It seems to me that jazz takes the best of all worlds – the advanced harmonies of European traditions, the advanced rhythms of African and Caribbean styles, and provides a context for the cultures and people thereof to create something beautiful.

To me, worship is creating something beautiful for God, so jazz seems a perfect medium to experience multi-cultural worship.  

Of course, the jazz era wasn’t all roses.  The white crime bosses of Chicago and other major cities held the most talented African-American musicians under their thumbs well into the 1940s.  But even threats of violence and the lure of big money couldn’t restrain the reconciling force of the music.

So, it’s especially meaningful for me to help plan the jazz vespers now, and to help give the whole service itself more of an interactive, spontaneous structure to complement the vitality and fluidity of the music itself.  I even get to share an original song that I’ve written titled ,”Too Young, Too Old.”  I’ll post the lyrics in a separate blog entry.   

Along with helping in the planning for the jazz vespers service and leading the singing, I’m auditioning singers for a new a cappella jazz singing group as well.  I’ve heard several singers so far, and haven’t quite found the right voices yet.  But give it time, and the music will again prevail, with God’s help.

organ donation, removal, and sequestration

One of the most difficult parts of ministry, and the most honorable, is presiding at funerals for beloved church members.  But I’m not going to talk about that in this post.

What I want to talk about is the obligation of accepting donated items to a church, and then deciding about their disposition when they don’t really contribute value to the life of the congregation.

This is a touchy subject, so I’ll try to be sensitive.  It seems, however, that when something is given to a church, and later a plaque is attached to it saying “Donated in memory of <blank>,” or “Given by <blank> in honor of <blank>,” some sort of emotional force field is activated that prevents anyone from critizing the item or suggesting that it might have outlived its usefulness.

In one church that I served as pastor, there was a rocking chair in the nursery that had been there for years.  Only a few of the members of the church remembered the woman in whose honor the rocking chair had been dedicated.  Her name was on a small plaque on the chair’s back.

The chair had been repaired several times over the years by one of the members in the church with carpentry skills.  But the leg braces were still a bit loose.  I had put them back in place a few times, and had discovered that the chair was a bit unsteady, but didn’t really think too much about it.  Every now and then someone talked about getting rid of the chair, but then someone would repair it again and there it would sit.

Our second son was of the age to be spending time in the nursery, and one morning one of the matriarchs of the church sat down in the chair holding him, and the chair completely fell apart.  She wound up sitting on the floor on top of the shattered pieces of the rocker, holding Peter up in the air above her.  Luckily, no one was hurt.  Needless to say, the pieces of the chair were in the dumpster in a matter of minutes.

There were also toys in that nursery that had been around for decades.  I am honestly not exaggerating, because the chair of the board of the congregation remembered playing with some of the toys when she was in the nursery herself over forty years ago.

So, in an audacious act of bravery, the young women’s group (who called themselves the Other Circle), decided to make it a project to clean out the nursery.  Books were tossed.  Toys were cleaned or replaced.  Later on, my wife and I found a garage sale with tons of pre-school toys and books, and we bought $75 worth and filled the nursery with cool new toys.

Someone also donated an old pipe organ to that church, which had some challenges.  First, we had to pay $500 to have it delivered to the church.  Then, we had to pay to have it repaired.  So, the donation soon became and obligation.  It was nice to have an organ in the chapel, but it was rarely used.

So, the other day when a family decided to donate an organ to the church here in town, in my mind I thought, “Here we go again.”

This electronic organ was in the home of an elderly member who was going to be moving to a nursing home.  One of her sons decided that the organ belonged in a church, and offered to donate it.  As an act of pastoral care, the pastor (my wife) agreed to accept the donation.

So, I was recruited to help remove the organ (from the member’s home, that is).  Luckily, the family had access to a truck with a lift, a piano dolly, and two strong young men.  That made it much easier.

When we got it to the church, I made sure that we found a home for the organ behind a partition in the fellowship hall.  Setting it up in the sanctuary would have been problematic, since we are hoping to diversify the music to include more “contemporary” music.

I had a lot of fun updating my status on Facebook that day with posts like:  “Michael is removing an organ this afternoon,” “Michael has placed an organ behind a partition at church,” “Michael hopes no one discovers the hidden organ at church this morning!” And, my favorite was: “Michael is so glad that the organ remained unexposed at church.”

It gives the whole idea of organ donation a new meaning.  So remember, don’t donate an organ unless you know someone needs it, and will really use it.

the magic kingdom (not camelot)

As you may know, Disneyland has a promotion this year where you can enter the park for free on your birthday.  Isaiah turned 8 on Sunday, so I took him.  

It was free for him, but 69 bucks for me!  We spent 13 hours there being overstimmed by rides, people, characters, and so forth.  So, I guess that’s about $2.65/hour for the two of us.  (The longer you stay, the better the deal.)  A movie costs around $15 these days for a child and adult, and lasts 90 minutes or so.  That works out to $5/hour.  So, in a twisted sort of way, Disneyland is a lot cheaper than a movie (not factoring in gas, food, etc.).  I guess that’s how i justify going to Disneyland with our present income.  

But it was great.  Isaiah had been there once before about two years ago with two of our friends.  The ride that he remembered as his favorite was the Buzz Lightyear Astroblaster, where you ride through in one of those big, slow bucket seats and blast targets to defeat the evil Zurg.  So, when we first got in the park, this was the first and second thing we did.  THEN, we rode Space Mountain, and whole new world of amusement park experience opened up in Isaiah’s life.

I have to admit, I was sort of nervous in Space Mountain when it was pitch black and I couldn’t see him.  I sort of put my hand on his knee to make sure he hadn’t flown out into space.  At the end of the ride, the expression on his face was somehow dazed, shocked, and excited at the same time.   Then, he broke into a huge smile, threw his hands in the air and said, “That was AWESOME!  Wicked!  Let’s do it again!” 

So, we did.  He now has a new favorite ride. 

Since Isaiah has some mild cerebral palsy, we also got a pass to go up the exits and not wait in line for so long.  That made for a much easier day, and is probably why we were able to stay as long as we did.  And, it really helped that a friend came and joined us at dinnertime for the rest of the evening.  She has a season pass, and we were staying at her house while in SoCal.

It’s funny how quickly the atmosphere changes at Disneyland after dinnertime, though.  The screams of delight and family hugs are somehow transformed into wails of despair, punches and pinches between siblings and sometimes even parents.  I think walking through the magic kingdom after dark reveals a lot about how comfortable the grown-ups are with being grown-ups.  Kids will be kids, after all.  Grown-ups have more choices about how to behave, and we don’t always choose wisely.

My favorite attraction at Disneyland is Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room, “Where the birds sing words, and the flowers croon!”  There are animatronic birds and flowers that sing songs.  There are wooden carvings of Hawaiian gods and goddesses that talk about there place in their culture.  The detail is incredible, the music is fun, and one of the parrots even has my name.  What more could you want?  I remember going there when I was a kid with my parents, and everybody enjoyed it because we had been to Hawaii.  It’s got good memories attached to it, and now even more since Isaiah liked it, too.  

I was REALLY proud of him.  He lasted until about 8pm (his bedtime is usually 7:30), and then said, “Maybe I am getting a little tired.”  There was very little whining.  He fell asleep almost immediately when we got back to the car.  The last ride of the day was the quietest, if not the safest.  The freeways in Socal are probably more dangerous than any of the rides at Disneyland (even those treacherous teacups in Fantasyland!).  And after a good night’s sleep at a friend’s house, we headed north for home.  

On another note, Laurie and I also decided that since it was six hours both ways to and from Disneyland, and since Isaiah was turning 8, it would be a good opportunity for us to have “The Talk.”  So, I went to the library, got some books, and he read them on the way there and back.  Since he’s reading at the 6th grade level or above, he learned a lot of the science of things, and cleared up a few questions that he had about himself.  

It was great to experience Disneyland with him while he can still appreciate some of the “magic” of it.  I know there will be hard lessons to learn in life, and difficult choices for him to make.  Disneyland may be the magic kingdom of make believe, but the realm he will be entering will be fantastic in a very real way, and I want him to have all the info he needs to face the changes ahead.

Triple-09 at home, live at the Queen Bean

I went out to an open mic at a coffee house this evening. I was the only person there over 30 years old, I’m pretty sure.  Most everyone else was a teenager.

Music-wise, there were the usual singer-songwriters with guitars, and then there were the rest of us techno music geeks with our laptops, MIDI controllers, and weird vocal effects.

I was also probably one of the few straight people there.  The sound guy and his partner were also musicians, and they were really nice to an old guy like me.   He said his name was David, “or Mary Louise.”  It turned out that was his stage name.  (The name of the coffee house was the Queen Bean, btw.)

The stage was outside under the big tent on the deck, but it didn’t really feel too cold out there.  The two lattes I drank kept me warm, and I’m still sort of buzzing from the caffeine.

My name got pulled form the hat first, so David asked if I would go first.  I said, “oh, okay, that way if I crash and burn there’ll be plenty of time for the evening to recover.”

This was the first time I was going to try vocal looping live, after all, and I was kind of nervous.  I had decided earlier in the day to sing something easy and familiar, “Don’t worry, be happy.” So, I started singing:  I laid down the bass line, then the rhythm parts, then the high falsetto harmonies.  Then, I sang the lyrics over that, with slight alterations to make them current.

(For example, when the lyrics were:  “Landlord says your rent is late, he may have to litigate,” I changed it to “Mortgageman say he take your house, sheriff came and kicked you out. . .Don’t worry. . .be happy.”)

They loved it.  I suspect it may have been because they were amazed to see a guy over 35 years old who knows how to use a computer for more than word processing and email.  At any rate, they were very gracious in their response, and I will definitely go back there again (maybe on March 15 – so beware!).

And I met one guy in particular who gave me some pointers on some software I might use with my looping.  He played original ambient electronic music, using a MIDI controller, his laptop with his own drum loops and pre-recorded synth loops.  It was definitely the highlight of the evening, and he mentioned that he thought my vocal loops were the highlight of his.  We may collaborate on some music in the future, I hope, if he needs any vocals.

It’s strange, though, that I might feel most at home with musicians so much younger than me, with such a different life orientation.  When I got home this evening, I asked Laurie if she thought I was completely crazy to be pursuing this musical exploration.  She said, “Yes, but that’s why I love you.”  What can I say?  All I can do is echo the words from one of Billy Joel’s earliest albums:  she’s my home.

In another sense, though, since we’ve moved back to California I’ve been on a gradual  coming-home journey in my creative life.  I was born in California, and my family is all here in the area.  That should be enough to make me feel welcome, I suppose.  But, since I’ve been making more music lately, the sense of coming home has been increasing.  I think it’s also related to the fact that I’m getting older, and less concerned about what people think about me, and more concerned about expressing myself creatively in an authentic way.

I mentioned in a previous post that I spent a week at my parents’ house working on learning the looping software.  I didn’t mention that at the end of the week, I gave my parents a little demonstration.  When I was done, my father, who is very pragmatic, had this to say: “Besides your own personal enjoyment, what possible use could that have?”  Bless his heart, his gifts lie in more practical pursuits.  My mother, who is more of a mystic, said, “Wow, think of all the possibilities!”  And these are the tapes I have had looping  in my head for almost 40 years now, two terminals on a continuous line:  the practical and the creative, the realistic and the remotely possible, and my dreams unrealized somewhere in between.

And, once again through some bizarre expression of God’s cosmic sense of humor, I was living out my dream with those wonderful “kids.”  You know, they wouldn’t let me sing at the boomer jazz club I visited a few weeks ago, but at this open mic event was my chance to integrate those old looping tapes in my head, practicing the creative, making possibilities and dreams become real.

Not bad for an almost 40-year-old.  I’ve tried to come up with a stage name for myself as a looper.  It finally came to me this evening.  From now on, call me Triple-09.  (On 09-09-09, I turn forty.)

blah blah blog

Well, as it turns out, tomorrow will be an extremely busy day.  It seems that I’ve got a lot of work to do, unexpectedly.

Computer repair, music production, all coming together at once.  Yikes.

So, this is just a blah blah to let you know I may not blog for a few days.  See you on the other side. . .

Self-employment

It’s good to be self-employed. 

When you’re self-employed, you are your own boss.  So, if you don’t do your job, the only person you can fire is yourself.

But then, once you find out you can’t get by without yourself, you can hire yourself again.  And, you can demand a raise from yourself, or threaten not to come back. 

And, if you have a problem with your management style, you can have a confidential, internal conversation about it in a professional manner.  No need to file a complaint or a report of any kind.  It’s all very informal.  No need to unionize or organize – just have it out with yourself and get over it.  It’s all rather freeing.

Since my wife has benefits, I have been working on developing several income streams to contribute to the family household income.  They grow from my diverse interests in music and computers.

Musically, I’m giving voice lessons, writing and producing music for clients, developing an a cappella jazz group, and looking for a regular church position in music. 

Computer-wise, I refurbish laptops and desktops, and provide them for friends, family and churches who need a nice computer but not the top-of-the-line model.

Some people say music and other creative arts are right-brained, and computers and other technical fields are left-brained.  I’m not so sure.  I studied music theory, which balances the creative and the technical sides of music.  And, my computer pursuits began in sixth grade, when I bought my first computer after mowing lawns all summer long.  I learned to program by reading the manuals over the weekend, and was soon writing programs to create graphics that looked like balloons and snowflakes. 

So, I guess maybe that makes me center-brained. 

I’m also managing the sale of my wife’s textile arts.  She’s really talented, but really busy in her ministry (did I mention she’s a minister? oh, and so am i.).  Today, for example, she did a funeral for a church member who was really dear to her heart.  Ministry is a tough job, so I think knitting is one way Laurie can relax and create something completely from her own vision. 

So, we’re both self-employed, she and I.  And its a good thing, because we could never stand to be one another’s boss, or employee for that matter.  Nope, we work a lot better as partners.

Don’t worry, be loopy

I returned on Friday from a music retreat, where I explored some looping software that I’ve wanted to learn how to use for along time.  And, I’ve been practicing something that is not likely to ever produce any income whatsoever.

As a vocalist, I’ve always had a dream of singing all the parts at once.  I sight-read music really well, and have a pretty broad vocal range, so it’s sometimes hard for me to wait for other singers to “catch up” in learning music.  Lately, I’ve really been enjoying singing jazz, and improvising.  In FACT. . .

The other week, Bobby McFerrin came into town and gave a concert.   I had hoped to go, but had a Martin Luther King,  Jr., celebration event that my family committed to attend.  I was disappointed, but knew that going to the event would be meaningful for us and a great experience for the boys.

On the way there, at the very end of the two hour trip, Peter, my five-year-old, threw up all over himself and the back seat of the car.  We pulled into the church parking lot, then spent at least a half hour cleaning him up, cleaning up the car, cleaning up the books and toys on the floor of the car in front of him, etc.  Luckily, there was a hose right there near the parking lot, so I could rinse everything off.  (I refrained from hosing down the boy, although it would have been quicker.)

Laurie said she thought we should probably drive home, rather than attend the service.  I didn’t argue too much, and casually mentioned, “Well, maybe when we get home, I could see if there are any tickets left for the Bobby McFerrin concert.”  She said, “I guess that would be okay.”  Did I mention how much I love her?

There was one ticket in particular that I had my eye on for a couple of weeks.  It was a second row center seat.  I had this crazy idea in my head that if I bought a ticket up front, he might open things up and invite audience members to come up and sing.  So, I thought that might be my chance to 1) sing with Bobby McFerrin, and 2) get some exposure as a singer in town.

But, my “realistic” self thought it must have been a pipe dream, until 1) Peter puked, 2) we had to drive home, and 3) I walked into the lobby and the seat was still available!  So, yes, I bought the ticket ($50!), and yes, during the concert, he invited singers up, and yes, I stood up, and jammed on a 12 bar blues pattern with Bobby!

First, he sang bass and I soloed over him, second we harmonized in the middle, and at the end I switched to bass and he soloed over me.  It was amazing!  And the crowd of 5000 or so seemed to enjoy it as well.  The more people I sing in front of, the less nervous I am.  I guess I’m funny that way.

It was just the kind of kick in the pants a nearly-forty-year-old  guy like me needed to get motivated to spend a whole week learning the hardware and software for beat box (or is it beat boxing?  that sounds too violent.) and vocal looping.  I really CAN sing all the parts!  My little laptop seemed to handle it pretty well, and soon I’ll have a firewire interface all set up.  Man, this is awesome.  I should be able to do this on stage in a few weeks.

Bowling Together

Yesterday, Isaiah and I went bowling for the second time.

We went a few weeks ago as a family and he fell in love with the game.  Then, he got in trouble for fighting with his brother, so we used bowling as a carrot to get him to behave better.

Isaiah sometimes has trouble fighting on the bus, too.  In fact, the bus driver was so frustrated that she said, “It doesn’t matter what seat I put him in, or who I sit him with, he’s going to hit them.” Personally, I think its because the other kids tease him sometimes.

Now, it’s a parent’s job to believe in their kids no matter what, so I was really disappointed that the bus driver had apparently written my son off as a lost cause.  I thought about it for a couple of days, and finally decided I would write off the bus driver as a lost cause and talk to Isaiah.

I said, “Isaiah, I really don’t like the way your bus driver talks about you.”

“What did she say about me?” he asked.

“She told me that no matter who she sits you with, you’re going to hit them.”

“Well,” he said with 7-year-old indignance, “she is mistaken about me.”

“I think so, too, son.  I think you can make better decisions to not hit.”

“Yeah, she shouldn’t have said that about me.”

“Well, then it’s your job to prove her wrong by not hitting.”

“Okay,” he said with a determined voice.

Since then, he hasn’t hit anybody on the bus, and the bus driver says he is like a different kid.  Of course, I know that he’s not.  I just chalk one up to positive parenting, if I may say so.

And since he had done so well with that, and had limited punching his brother to once or twice a week, Laurie and I decided I could take him bowling again.

Since he was born very early (at 23 1/2 weeks gestation), he has some cerebral palsy and physical developmental delay.  He can do all the things that kids do, just a little more slowly and with a bit more challenge keeping his balance.  So bowling isn’t the first game I would think he would gravitate towards, but there are a few things that work to his advantage.

Of course, he bowls with the bumpers up so it’s impossible to get a gutter ball.  Also, he uses a 6 pound ball for kids.  Consequently, he feels great about his bowling.  He actually beat me in two different games yesterday.

Now, I admit that I am a terrible bowler, but under normal circumstances I would still able to beat a 7-year-old who has only bowled twice in his life.  But for some insane reason, they only allow bowling with bumpers for people 10 years and under, so I was at a distinct disadvantage.  The bumpers came up for him, and went down for me.  I could swear that they must have also magnetized the gutters, and that my ball must have had an iron core like the earth’s. My ball was often mysteriously drawn to the far left or right, to travel uselessly down that long, straight road to insignificance.

The other advantage Isaiah had was that since his bowl was so light, it failed to activate the sensor behind the pins.  He sometimes got three, four, or even five bowls per frame instead of just two.  He got several spares and even a few “strikes” in the game. He’s so competitive, and has faced so many challenges, that it felt really good to see him feel proud of his bowling prowess.

I’m also proud to say that he only beat me by less than 10 pins each game, and we both broke 100 twice.  I guess I love bowling, too.