Shuffleboard at Bixby Park

Prompted at Sunday Scribblings:  Game

The old lady was hopping mad, banging the end of her cue on the pavement. “Stop telling her what to do–let her figure it out by herself!”

The man standing behind me just laughed. “What are you getting yourself all wound up about? She’s just a wee lass.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Now, I want you to send your puck over this way and see if you can hit that one over there–get it out of the triangle–like this.” He acted it out with his own cue in slow motion. “See?”

I didn’t see. The court was smooth and green like the chalkboard in my second-grade classroom, but it wasn’t a chalkboard and I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never played shuffleboard in my life but I did what he said and my yellow disc hit the black one.

“No!” The old lady shrieked.  “That doesn’t count when you coach her like that. Just leave her alone!”

“She’s a natural!” Great-Grandpa chuckled from his place on the bench.

I wished they would leave me alone. I didn’t know how to play and it was mean of them to make me and then keep laughing about it.

The next time I had a turn, my puck must have landed in the right place because the men clapped and cheered and the old lady threw her cue and left the court. I felt like I had done something wrong.

Great-Grandpa took a long time getting up from the bench and steadying himself with his crutch and cane. “Good job, Lass,” he said, and we made our slow way back to the little blue electric car he used to get to the park. “Cranky old biddy–always telling everybody what’s what. But you beat her without even trying–best entertainment I’ve had in a long time!”

He chuckled all the way home. “What’s so funny, Grandpa?” I kept asking, and he just shook his head. That day was the only time I ever picked up a shuffleboard cue.


3 responses to “Shuffleboard at Bixby Park

  1. This was really warm. A lovely picture of family life as well as shuffleboard! Thanks for visiting me also Jae

  2. Your story catches the frustration of a young girl and the frustrations of the older woman quite effectively, without ever directly calling attention to it. The grandfather’s description holds true as well. Interesting how we both wrote about grandfathers. Thank YOU for visiting.

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