I came across two things recently that made me remember fondly my youth and teenage years. The first was this feature on "207" about Bill Chinnock, and the second was this article on Boston.com regarding candlepin bowling. I thought I'd share a personal story or anecdote about each and invite others to comment with their stories and or elaborate on mine.
Perhaps the best story, but the one I need help with the most, involves a certain Bill Chinnock concert at the Pittsfield Community Theater, probably sometime in 1979 (one of the very few ticket stubs I can't claim to still have). A handful of us decided that not only did we need to be at this concert but we needed to have flasks or pint bottles of alcohol as well, lest we got thirsty inside. Unlike the famous Dresden ice fishing legend (sorry Chink), getting the alcohol for the Chinnock concert did not involve someone's uncle delivering it to the MCI campus in a black pulp truck. I don't recall where we got it but there's little chance the story is as colorful.
What is most memorable about this concert, aside from getting to see our local music hero, was the fact that not all of us managed to get into the concert with our alcohol intact. Isn't that right, SF? Luckily for us, some of us did! Were we cool or what? If you were there that night, please chime in with any information you have to fill in the story, as my pitiful memory has left me nothing more than what's above.
Regarding candlepin bowling, I'll offer up a couple of quick things. Many of us were on youth bowling leagues or high school intramural leagues at the Pittsfield Bowling Center. Most of my fondest candlepin bowling memories are there, and I'm sure there are plenty of fond memories by others to share. One not so fondly remembered, or better stated as bittersweet, relates to the reward we received in roughly 1972 for winning the Eastern Maine tournament. For whatever reason, that year it was decided that giving jackets was better than trophies. So while my trophies from my glorious youth survived in my mother's attic for many years, that jacket was lost, nay stolen, in less than a year, some idiot 11 or 12 year old having left it on a bench at Manson Park.
Also, any of my MCI classmates who still have the 1980 edition of The Trumpet, go to pages 112 and 113, and in particular look at the names of the teams. Does that bring back some memories? Long live The Zebulons!
I would be very appreciative if you would leave any anecdotes that you'd like to share, elaborate on anything I have said but also if you would please pass this along to anyone who might appreciate it.