Here, my friends, is an integral piece to the puzzle that was my childhood: Strolling Bowling. This game probably also fed my growing desire for order and organization, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

This was the absolute perfect gift for an only child with simple entertainment needs and a bear-trap attention span. You wound up the little bowling ball, aimed it, and set it loose to bounce on its cute oversized orange feet toward the collapsible pins at the end of the alley. Yep, that really is all there is to it. Long was the “portable entertainment” road to Gameboy, my friends.

As for the encouragement of my future as an anal-retentive organization freak, this game might have started it. It folded up so very neatly. The pin section detached and fit inside the rest of the alley, which doubled as a carrying case. Oh, and the bowling ball also had a special little storage niche inside the case, and everything clicked together into a cute portable package that was perfect for those long trips we took every summer to my grandparents’ house and to Florida…because listening to repetitious plastic clackety noises coming from the backseat couldn’t have been at all irritating to my parents!

I actually still have my Strolling Bowling set; I even had it out last night when I ran across it in one of my storage bins (again, organized to a fault!). It’s one of the few childhood games that I kept. The rest of them really didn’t mean much to me. I think most only children have a certain disconnect when it comes to liking board games (also, I dare anyone to hold a special place in their heart for “Hungry, Hungry Hippos” when that was the taunt that still haunts their formerly fat inner child). I also think I was more of a book, drawing paper, and stuffed animal kind of kid.

Anyway, sorry for another game, but look at this little guy. How can you not love him? (And, yes, one day soon I will discuss my overwhelming anthropomorphic urges…)

(Images Courtesy of Firebox.com)