She inhaled deeply. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”
Billy wrapped his wife in a warm embrace, cheek pressed against cheek, and danced an eternity with the woman he would always love.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times and the bad times, too,
Let it be a dance.
Stories often come from a writer’s life.
When I was ten, the doctor diagnosed my mom with breast cancer. She needed surgery and would be in the hospital for about a week afterward to recover.
This was particularly scary for me because my parents were divorced, and I lived with my mom and one older sister. I depended on my mom for everything and became terrified of what might happen to me if she died.
While Mom was in the hospital, my dad came and brought me to the market to help buy groceries for my sister and me. I told him the things Mom usually bought, and we put them into the cart. In the cereal aisle, I chose one box of cereal and tossed it in.
Dad said, “Get a couple more boxes. We don’t know exactly how long your mom will be in the hospital.”
I didn’t want more boxes of cereal (although more boxes of sugary cereal is all I ever asked for when I went shopping with Mom). I wanted exactly the number of boxes Mom let me get every time we went shopping together: one. We didn’t have money for more, and Mom didn’t like us eating food that wasn’t good for us.
I should have been excited to finally load the cart with boxes of any kind of cereal I wanted. But at that moment, all I really wanted was Mom home again and healthy.
My dad threw a couple more boxes into the cart and said, “Let’s go.”
He’d chosen exactly the kinds of cereal we weren’t supposed to eat: the kind with food dyes, loaded with sugar.
Everything felt wrong.
By the time Dad and I got to the checkout line, I was hunched over, crying.
“What’s wrong?” asked the woman checking out our groceries.
I turned away, wishing I could disappear. I was embarrassed to be so sad in public.
Dad asked loudly, “What’re you crying for?”
Had he already forgotten that Mom was in the hospital, getting surgery for cancer? Had he forgotten there was a chance she could die? That I wouldn’t have a mom anymore?
I glared at him and didn’t answer. He should have known why I was so upset.
After Mom’s surgery, treatments with radiation, and a long recovery period, she went back to work and back to taking care of me and my sister.
I felt like the luckiest person in the world to have my mom there to keep me safe and raise me, to help me with the hard things and celebrate the wonderful things.
My mom lived until I was twenty-nine and pregnant with my husband’s and my younger son. Her cancer had come back for a third time, and she didn’t win that final fight. But I counted myself fortunate that my mom lived as long as she did.
Several years ago, our younger son, now an adult, brought home a wonderful girlfriend. She was a delight in our lives. After a while, we learned that when she was eleven, her mom died from cancer.
That information hit me like a punch to the gut. She had experienced the terrible reality I was so afraid of when I was about that same age.
How did she deal with such sadness and grow up to become such a lovely, giving person? What would my life have been like if my mom had died when I was ten or eleven? Who would have taken care of me?
Those questions set me on the path to writing the story you just read. Questions are often the start of stories for me.
How would this feel?
What would happen if…?
The stories I write are my exploration of those questions and my search for answers.
As a reader, you bring your own experiences and curiosity to a story. I hope you found some answers here…and maybe some questions that might lead you to further explore and create your own stories.
FRAME ONE: To the memory of my mom, Myrna Levin, who read me fairy tales and taught me to thumb my nose when I bowled; who taught me by example to enjoy cooking, reading, hiking through parks, and browsing public library shelves. My mom was always someone I could count on. Always. A single, working parent, Mom was a smart, strong, creative woman who showed me what it meant to be resilient when faced with life’s challenges. Her love and spirit live on, especially in my sister, Ellen; niece, Nicole; and nephew, Kyle; and in her best friend, Maxine, from her Tuesday-night bowling league at Facenda Whitaker Lanes.
FRAME TWO: To my agent, Tina Dubois of ICM Partners, who has bowled me over with her brilliant, book-filled head and heart since we began working together in 2005. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my team. Tina is in a league of her own when it comes to supporting her diverse list of authors with everything she’s got.
FRAME THREE: To my editor, Kelsey Horton, for taking me on and then cheering me on. Thanks for pushing me beyond where I thought I could take this story. This tale is richer for your deep, thoughtful suggestions. And thanks for coming up with the title. To Beverly Horowitz and the entire team at Delacorte Press/Random House Children’s Books, who make literary miracles happen every day: Thank you for everything you do to get good books into the hands of kids who need them most. I’m filled with gratitude for your support of me and my work for well over a decade.
FRAME FOUR: To Crystal Allen, who wrote the world’s funniest, most heartfelt bowling book, How Lamar’s Bad Prank Won a Bubba-Sized Trophy. I dare you not to laugh until you cry when you read the scene about the chocolate-covered peanuts. Seriously! Read it. I’ll wait….Crystal is one of the most generous people I know. One of her many generous acts was donating a scholarship so someone could attend a workshop at Bethany Hegedus’s magical Writing Barn in Austin, Texas. I’m so glad Crystal and I connected at the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop in 2010 and continue to be friends through our writing journeys. I’ll never forget our falling-over-funny dinner in Houston with the lovely Laura Ruthven.
FRAME FIVE: To Jane Jergensen, who gave me her 180 bowling badge to inspire my writing of this book and who shared a fun game of bowling with me when we were both in Texas with Kay Hawkins during my school visits. Thank you both for not laughing at me when I bowled.
FRAME SIX: For help with research, a big bouquet of thanks to Pam Collins for chatting with me about her type 1 diabetes journey with her awesome son, even though the story changed to be about something else entirely, as stories often do. And to Mandy Munyan, Family Service Counselor at Aycock-Riverside Funeral and Cremation Center in Jupiter, Florida, for giving me a tour and answering my many questions.
FRAME SEVEN: To Pam, Klaus, and Nico Meyer for providing a quiet place for me to write for a few days when I was stuck on one of the early versions of this book. And to my writing buddy and über-talented author-and-performer friend extraordinaire, Jill Nadler (aka Riley Roam from pageturneradventures.com), who joined me on that mini writing retreat and asked the right questions and made the right suggestions to get me unstuck. Thank you for always being there with wise words, something funny to keep me laughing, a big hug, or a mug of hot tea and a cupcake. You’re the best, Jill!
FRAME EIGHT: To Chris Hardwick, who had the most inspiring interview with his late dad, pro bowler Billy Hardwick, on his “The Nerdist” podcast. I listened to that interview over and over. It was just the thing to help give this story life in its early stages.
To my dear father-in-law, Jake, who inspired the character of Billy Spagoski and who inspired me in all the important ways. Thank you for being such a wonderful grandfather to our sons. We all love and miss you, Dad.
To my dad, Jack, whose bowling trophies littered our garage throughout my childhood. The black-and-white photo of him on his Philadelphia bowling league team still hangs in our h
ome.
FRAME NINE: To Elysa Graber-Lipperman and Amelia for sharing your guys’ wonderful, nerdy bowling stories, which were the seeds that started this whole thing growing.
To Jeanne, my friend since we were fourteen and getting in trouble in Mr. Perry’s science class at Woodrow Wilson Junior High School. Thanks for a million things, including sharing your middle and maiden names with my character Amy in this book. Longtime friends are such a treasure. Right, Addam and Paul?
To my friend Gail Gabert for sharing her stories of growing up in a family that owned a bowling center.
And to Elizabeth Owosinaes for helping me with my other work so I could focus on writing. Thanks also for being my exercise buddy and sharing many long walks/talks with me through wild woods. I think I owe you a hot chocolate, friend.
To my cherished friends and family who have supported me in a thousand different, vital ways: My love for you all goes deep.
FRAME TEN: To Dan, who has bowled me over every day since we met thirty years ago in northeast Philly. (Thanks for connecting us, Addam!) It’s been an honor to experience life’s journey with you. You’re such a deeply caring, big-hearted, and interesting person. Thanks for always surprising me in the best kinds of ways. And thanks, sweets, for taking such good care of the real world while I toiled for so many, many months on this fictional one.
To our sons, Andrew and Jake: I’m privileged to be your mom.
Andrew, thank you for the time you took to read this story and offer such substantive suggestions. You’re an eagle-eyed editor!
BOWLING TERMS
American Wheelchair Bowling Association (awba.org): An organization that promotes the abilities of wheelchair bowlers.
anchor: The last bowler in a team lineup.
approach: The space extending back from the foul line, used to make the steps and delivery.
average: The score of all games, divided by the number of games.
ball return: A rack for bowling balls at the start of a bowling lane, where the balls are sent after returning from the pinsetter.
bumpers: Removable blockades that prevent gutter balls.
gutter ball: A bowling ball that rolls into a channel on either side of the lane and doesn’t hit any pins.
handicap: An adjustment in scores to equalize competition by adding pins on a predetermined basis.
house ball: A bowling ball provided by the bowling center.
lane: A sixty-foot-long wooden alley for the game of tenpins.
league play: Organized competition for team play.
perfect game: Scoring twelve strikes in a row (300 points).
pin: Bowling pins are the target of a bowling ball in games of tenpins. They are usually made from maple wood and a coating. Once in use, pins last about six months before needing to be patched or recoated and another six months before breaking.
pocket: The desirable location for the ball to hit the pins to maximize strike potential.
pumpkin: A ball thrown without spin that hits a pin or pins softly.
scratch: Actual score, without the benefit of a handicap.
spare: Achieved when a player knocks down the pins left standing after the first throw with the second throw.
strike: Achieved when a player knocks down all ten pins with the first throw.
turkey: Three consecutive strikes.
WRITING AND STORY TERMS
character: A person in a story.
climax: The point of highest dramatic tension in a story, or a major turning point in the action.
dialogue: Conversation between two or more characters.
fiction: A story invented by the imagination.
foreshadow: To represent or indicate beforehand what will happen in the future.
hero: The principal male character in a story.
heroine: The principal female character in a story.
inciting incident: An event that sets the plot of a story in motion. This usually occurs after the background and setting have been given.
mood: A distinctive atmosphere.
narrator: One who tells a story; one who provides spoken commentary for a story.
outline: A plan for or a summary of a story.
plot: The events that make up a story.
plot twist: A change in the expected outcome or direction of a story.
point of view: A character’s position, or the perspective from which narration is presented.
resolution: The point in a story at which the chief dramatic complication is worked out.
rewrite: To write again, especially in an improved form.
setting: The time and place of the action of a story.
tone: The style or manner of expression in a story.
Donna Gephart’s award-winning novels are packed with humor and heart. They include Lily and Dunkin; Death by Toilet Paper; Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen; How to Survive Middle-School; and As if Being 12¾ Isn’t Bad Enough, My Mother Is Running for President! Donna is a popular speaker at schools, conferences, and book festivals. For reading guides, resources, writing tips, and more, visit donnagephart.com.
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In Your Shoes Page 18
