I don’t want this to be a complete depressing tale about mortality, but I said I wanted to provide a complete cross section of life, Beginning to end. One of the most prominent memories I have of Gloversville is my Fathers death.
It stands out not just because it was to date the single hardest period of my life, an 11 year old kid, looking forward to a summer of camping and hiking with his father only to have that possibility taken away. That time really stands out because of the people, the people of Gloversville, who banded together for my family, they lined up several hundred deep at his wake to give my family their condolences, they brought flowers, food and comfort, and had a benefit bowling tournament in honor of my father.
My classmates made huge cards, and my neighborhood friends collected things they had around, bundled them together and gave it to me in hopes it would make me feel better. Until then I never really knew what “it’s the thought that counts” meant. But that sole gesture gave me so much understanding into the comradery, and selflessness of true neighborhood friends.
Above: inside a bowling pin machine. (not sure the technical name) these are the machines that stand up bowling pins after a frame. My father worked back here, and in bowling most of his life.
Above: This is wrote on the wall in the back of Arterial lanes, the wall has been painted several times but this area has not been painted over. I went to the lanes my father worked at in early 2006, for the first time in 16 years. I want to thank Herb for showing me around.