Sunday Morning Snobbery

I first noticed the father, a vaguely unkempt looking man picking out a bowling ball.  It was hard to tell his age, but I am guessing around mine, pushing 60.  His hair was all white, and he was bald on top.  A comb or brush would not have hurt his look.  He was dressed in a pair of black Rustler jeans and a black t-shirt that was a tad too short for him. 

I then noticed his wife. She appeared to be at least 20 years his junior. She was obese enough that her belly had more than formed an apron.   Initially I thought she was Hispanic.  I shortly heard her say something, and it was classic Tennessee country.  Neither she nor her husband were ugly, but then again they were not particularly handsome.

Then the passel of kids came into focus.  There were a total of four.  The oldest, a boy, who never took down his sweatshirt hood, looked to be 12 or 13.   There were two young girls of elementary school age.  Lastly, there was a toddler who was walking, but probably still in diapers. I could not quite fathom its gender.

Except for the father, they were all dressed in sweat pants, some had on a sweat shirt or a sweat jacket top, and a couple had on sweaters. All of the clothing looked like it seen much better days.

I would not want to go back to the day of starched collars and corsets, but I do have expectations about how you should dress when you go out in public.  Sweat pants do not fit into my paradigm of correctness.   I would never let my kids leave the house in flip flops. Of course, I could just be uptight.

It was Sunday morning at the bowling alley and the games were 99 cents a piece, a bargain anyway you look at.  I’m sure it was a big day out for them and the kids.

I will admit that initially I had two reactions.  The first was the snobby part of me kicked in, and the associated thoughts and prejudices that are sometimes directed at the poor came to the forefront.  My mother’s family were sharecroppers, and my father came from an equally poor background. You would think I would have no room for snobbery.

Second thought was, “Oh no.”  While they were not on the lane right next to me I was already imagining kids running amuck and disrupting my game. 

I bowled on a Sunday in St. Louis recently(again on a 99 cent Sunday morning rate) , and there was a very yuppie looking family next to us.  They had two small children.  The kids were young enough that I wondered why they had them out bowling.  These folks were totally in their own world, and totally ignorant or not caring about bowling etiquette.  Normally one alternates with the lanes on either side so as not to distract each other.  We asked them once politely to practice this courtesy.  It was just a breeze passing through their heads.  One little girl was running all over the place including into my lane.  The father having paid his 99 cents to let his kids bowl felt like he could be on that lane 100% of the time.

I really don’t want bowling alleys to go back to halls full of tobacco smoke, but it did tend to keep the riff raff of kids too young to roll their own ball home.

My curse is that I am an observer.  I watch folks.  Sometimes I make up stories in my head about their lives.  In some ways I spend a lot of time feeling like I am on the outside looking in.  On the other hand, it is like this big movie that is constantly playing in front of me.

I was observing this family.  I will have to admit I was internally embarrassed by my initial snobbish reaction.  There is a saying that poor folks have poor ways.  As an ex health inspector I observed this often enough to begin to think of it as a truism.

I don’t know how the rest of this family’s life goes, but what I observed was a blessing to watch.

The kids were extremely well mannered.  Not the manners of someone who has been cowed into being so, but the manners that come naturally to someone who has grown up watching well mannered folks.  

Maybe it was because they were out doing something extraordinary, but they kids seem genuinely happy.  Except, naturally, it did not seem so for the 13 year old in the hoodie.  That is almost a given though.   When one of them did well bowling, they cheered and said encouraging things.  I did not hear the taunting I would have heard from my brothers when they did poorly.  More than once there were hugs going around after a particular good frame. 

Another amazing thing to me was that all four of these kids were good looking. Not just your run-of-the-mill good looking, but Lake Woebegone above average.  I kept looking at the parents, and looking at the kids thinking to myself, “I do not understand genetics.” 

In many ways this story tells more about me than it does them.   I’m not sure I was “jealous” of them, but I sure did admire what seemed to be a wonderful family life.  We all have preconceived ideas and prejudices that need to be challenged.  Hopefully, I will not be so quick to prejudge folks next time.