Brunswick Bowling Ball Ad (1982)

Back in the day, during my childhood, I embraced what we affectionately referred to as the "garbage picker" title. It was a role I gladly took on, eagerly venturing out on junk days or trash days, scouring the neighborhood for hidden treasures. Of course, my mother had a few rules about my peculiar hobby. First and foremost, anything I brought home had to be thoroughly cleaned before it could enter our abode. Additionally, the majority of my finds were to be relegated to the basement, transforming it into a cavernous repository of old bicycles, toys, and various odds and ends that I managed to haul back.

Among my regular discoveries, one particular item seemed to make its way into my collection with surprising frequency: bowling balls. It seemed like not a week would go by without me stumbling upon a ball and eagerly lugging it home. The basic black ones became outdoor playthings, but if I stumbled upon a shiny and visually appealing ball, I would meticulously clean it off and place it in a colossal metal tub that I had stumbled upon during one of my adventures.

Truth be told, I wasn't much of a bowler myself, but I couldn't resist the allure of these spherical prizes. So, when my family decided to hold a yard sale, it was only natural for the tub-o-balls to find their way onto our lawn, awaiting potential buyers. It became a bittersweet experience for me, parting ways with a few of my cherished finds. Over the years, as the tub gradually filled to the brim, a fateful encounter took place in the mid-1990s.

A gentleman, drawn by the sight of the overflowing tub of bowling balls, approached our yard sale. He seemed captivated by my collection and eventually made an offer to purchase all of them for around $75. I couldn't help but wonder what plans he had for this multitude of balls. Was he a bowling alley proprietor, envisioning an expansion of his establishment's stock? Or perhaps he was a reseller, seeking to turn a profit from these once-discarded treasures?

Sadly, I never had the chance to engage in conversation with the mysterious buyer. As he left with his newly acquired assortment, my mind was left to wander, contemplating the fate of my beloved bowling balls. Despite the unanswered questions, my curiosity only added to the allure and mystery surrounding that peculiar transaction.

As the 1990s progressed, my excursions outside became less frequent, and with that decline came a noticeable decrease in the number of bowling balls I stumbled upon. It seemed that the peak of bowling ball disposals had occurred in the early 1980s. By the time people began discarding items en masse a decade later, the once-plentiful balls had become a rarity, rendering my hunts less fruitful in terms of striking bowling gold.

Looking back, those were unique times filled with whimsical pursuits and peculiar passions. Being a garbage picker may not have been the most conventional childhood hobby, but it instilled in me a sense of curiosity and a keen eye for hidden gems. Even now, as I recall the tub-o-balls and the enigmatic buyer, I can't help but smile at the memories of my fascinating journey as a garbage picker, forever grateful for the intriguing stories it provided.