In the past, there were movies about pool sharks. They all seemed to be dubious characters on the fringe of society. I haven't seen such a movie lately. Pool halls were a thing of the past, located on side streets in the poorer section of town. The men knew where they were.

I know this, because my Uncle Wayne, Dad's brother, ran a pool hall on a side street in town. The store front had seen better days. It's windows hadn't been washed in years. When you hear the phrase, "through the glass darkly". They were talking about Uncle Wayne's Pool Hall. Gambling was illegal, but who was to know. Pinochle, Pitch or a fast game of Five Card Stud would quickly become a friendly game if a stranger walked in. Strangers were not welcome. Light lunches were offered. That would include hard boiled eggs and pickled bologna with crackers. Nothing fancy.

A few years before the time of Uncle Wayne's Pool Hall, my brother Rodney and I stopped at a gas station in a small nearby town. They had a pool table. Not many cars went by, so I guess they needed something to pass the time. Rod said he would teach me how to shoot pool. Goody! I was eager to learn.

Rod paid for our game and racked up the balls. He went first, of course, since he was teaching me. How could he do that if he didn't sink a few balls. That's what he said, anyway. I stood there with my cue stick in hand, watching one ball after another disappear in the corner and side pockets. Finally, my turn came. He demonstrated where to touch the white cue ball with the cue stick to send into a ball to send it into a nearby pocket. "We will try again," he said as he sank that ball "Don't hit it too hard," he cautioned. I didn't, but it just rolled a ways and laid there on the green. This procedure continued for a few more balls, until I wised up. He was just setting me up for his shots. That ended the lesson as I chased Rod out the door with the cue stick, with him doubling over in a fit of laughter.

Fast forward to modern times. Pool tables have become respectable. Many home have one. I remember about 1990, when I worked baby-sitting Kathleen Graves granddaughter Ashley Boring. Ashley's folks had a pool table in their lower level recreation room. Ashley and I played pool a few times. Only a few times. Talk about a pool shark. She had the makings of a professional. It was humiliating to be badly beaten by a five year old. I was out for blood. Ashley was only having fun. If, I sank one ball in a pocket, I was lucky. She would have a run of the rest of the balls. I tried, Oh lordy, how I tried, but to no avail. It wouldn't have her to have let me win one game, but she had no idea of my discomfort.

As far as I'm concerned, breaking up the pool table for fire wood and using the cue sticks for kindling is a good idea. Yes, I am unteachable. My eye-hand coordination leaves much to be desired, as does my singing voice. Turn on the TV instead. There is a good show coming on at 9 PM.