Article

Mystery gift with meaning

An old colleague from a past newspaper job had a sense of humor unlike any other.

He was a good, hard worker but found ways to lighten the mood with a personal touch and a straight face. He sent cards for special occasions that celebrated a completely different theme or holiday; he made prank telephone calls from across the office; he’d request his cup of coffee, which I was buying from the office machine, in a round cup – not a square one.

“You got it, Bill,” I’d say countless times, prior to my coffee run and the looming nightshift.

But he might have outdone himself about seven years ago prior to my wedding. As I approached my apartment, a strange sight came into view: an old bowling ball lay in front of the hallway door. It had been sent through the mail. No box, no wrapping paper, no bow.

Even without many words, my colleague’s message was clear at the time: I was about to be married and forever weighted down by commitment. Wherever I went, that ball would be right behind, slowing my progression and limiting my freedom.

All I could do was laugh and put the ball aside, wondering just how much my life would change.

Present day
The doorbell rang, and my wife, Cathy, answered to see the mailman standing in front of our house. I had no idea what to expect. Cathy and I had become first-time parents only days ago – Anna Elyse was born on Sept. 24 weighing 7 pounds, .04 ounces – and we had received an occasional gift through the mail. Was it possibly another?

“Brian, you’re not going to believe this,” she said, closing the door.

As my wife walked into the living room, she was holding an old bowling ball. As I looked back at her, we broke out laughing. My old colleague had done it again. No box, no wrapping paper, no bow. Just an old, black and blue bowling ball affixed with a sticker addressed to “proud parents” and showing the $10 postage fee. (The mailman complained about the ball rolling around in the back of his truck, so he was happy to finally deliver.)

Later, sitting in my chair and fighting through the fog of little sleep, I stared at the bowling ball that looked so awkward on our living room floor. And I began to think.

I began to think about what the ball represents and how we view things in our lives. Any change, challenge or obstacle that shows up at our doorstep can be accompanied by burdensome weight – if we allow its effect on us.

Or we can realize the alternative: The ball isn’t that heavy, and instead of focusing on its weight, we should recognize its ability to roll with the change, challenge or obstacle, whether in our personal lives or at the office.

The bowling ball that takes up space in our living room won’t be there for much longer. I plan to donate it to a local bowling alley, where it can actually be put to use. But I will forever be grateful for the simple humor of the gift, for my old colleague and for hidden meanings in – of all things – a bowling ball.