1995 was a very good year, well at least the first ten months of it anyway. Life was rolling along in the Bowling Center business. My relationship with Betty was growing more and more, and then taking major steps back every once in a while, but nothing to get too worked up about. And then came November. Exciting news for Beatles fans, new CD's and a TV special (Anthology), Thanksgiving, Christmas, there was a lot to get excited about.
And then it was over . . .
Too many fights, too much insecurity and immaturity (mostly on my part). She walked into the bowling center on a Sunday. I was preparing to run a tournament. She gave me her ring and I lost it. I left, no tournament for me, I ran as far as I could. There just happened to be a Beatles Convention of sorts down near the airport so I went down there and basically spent an entire paycheck to try and forget about what had just happened. It didn't work, the music was great, but it didn't work. I remember a snapshot of me outside her window, straight out of a movie begging to be talked to, her father attempting to reason with me (he and her mother were so very sweet to me through all of it and I thank them for that). And there's another snapshot, a few nights later of me standing behind the counter watching The first night of the Anthology and watching Paul McCartney sing "Yesterday" and crying my 22 year old eyes out. Another snapshot a few weeks later of me (and this is the only time I've ever done this) sitting at a bar at another bowling center and enjoying strawberry wine coolers being supplied by a friend of mine who understood that I was hurting deeply. My dad, watched from a distance, embarrassed and concerned for his son. I cherish that part of the picture. That which I had come to see as the ultimate reality in my life was gone and there was no getting it back. So . . . I ran straight into 1996. More to come . . .