Bowling Night

When I was a kid, there was an unwritten law about Thursday, and violators faced dire consequences.

The law? Silence must be maintained on Thursday, because Thursday was my father’s bowling night.

He liked to come home and take a nap for a few hours before going out, and since he was a light sleeper, we maintained an almost monastic silence, quietly moving around the house and only speaking in quiet whispers.

But kids are kids, and sometimes we accidentally woke him.

That’s when he would come storming out of his room loaded for bear. It didn’t matter who was making noise, he’d just grab the first one of us he found and mete out justice. It was terrifying at the time, but I laugh about it now.

Most days, my father was off to work before any of us were out of bed, so catching a little shut-eye was a welcome thing. Understandable. I now know how annoying it is to be woken from a nap, and have on occasion jumped up in a very foul mood. Barking dogs, phones, leaf blowers — a million things conspire to ruin sleep.

So, look: if someone you know is lucky enough to enjoy the luxury of a brief nap, do what you can to make things quiet. It’s a good thing┬áto do, even if there is no chance they’ll storm out of their room and chase you through the house.

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