07/20/2025
There's something about muscle memory. I can still picture those hours playing ping-pong with my dad, when he'd transformed our dining room into a game room on Shore Road in Old Greenwich back in the 1970s. I would be in my nightgown, staying up late, and Mom would yell, "Bob, she has to go to bed!" Dad and I would laugh and reply, "Just one more match!" By thirteen, I was getting pretty good, although Dad was always much better. However, he taught me about topspin and to serve with a punch. I'll never forget the one time I beat him. He didn't like it, but he was proud.
Yesterday was the first time I'd played in 45 years. It was a birthday party, and I was paired with a stranger, albeit thankfully, a nice one. Soon, my muscle memory kicked in, and I felt, in some ways, I was back in my dining room, because some shots returned. However, others didn't, and I missed many! However, I improved with each game, and when we finished, I hoped to play again soon.
With only one parent still alive, I find that random memories resurface more frequently. They remind me how much those experiences have shaped me. And, even my muscles have been "shaped" by life experiences, like my ping-pong muscles - albeit I need to strengthen those!