Alice Linda Osier DePatsy grew up in Bremen; her husband Nicholas DePatsy, Jr. grew up in Waldoboro. They may have come from the same area, but in many ways, they were opposites. Her family came from England on the ship after the Mayflower and made their way up to Maine to become fishermen and captains; his family came from Italy and settled near Worcester sometime around 1900. Alice graduated in nursing from Cornell University; Nick went into the Air Force and then into construction. And Alice initially knew nothing about bowling while Nick was setting up pins in the little alley in town when he was a young boy. But they were also alike. Each was a crack bowler. Alice once scored a single of 180 and won a trophy for it. Nick bowled a 500 which his friends commemorated with the gift of a gold ring. Nick ran the lanes, and Alice supported him. Leagues are the mainstay of any bowling venue and they thrived at Nick’s. Alice started a few herself, including the Housewives league on Thursday mornings and the Women’s league on Wednesday evenings. And while never on the same team, they bowled in the Couples league on Friday nights. On her own, Alice started a scholarship run by the Waldoboro Women’s Club, served in the VFW Auxiliary and traveled throughout Europe. But her center was Nick and their family, which continues today. And likewise for Nick. He delved into car racing, truck pulling and horse racing, but nothing compared with what he felt for Alice, and their children and grandchildren.
I went to school in Bremen, in a one-room schoolhouse with all eight grades, then on to high school in Waldoboro with 47, 48 kids in the same grade. Nick DePatsy was in my grade. He was the class heartthrob. But I wasn’t part of the village group. I was an outsider. And Nick never asked me out. Not once in four years. By Lord, I wished he would have.
After high school, my friend Nancy Moody helped me get a job at Moody’s Diner to earn money for college. Back then it was a truck stop, and everyone stopped and boy, they tipped good. And that’s where I met Nick again, at Moody’s. He’d just come back from Korea. He was in the Air Force on weekend leave and came in for breakfast. I swear, he ordered ten English muffins. And finally, he asked me out.
We went to the movies. The next weekend he suggested Lakehurst. He came home from the Caribou base every weekend that summer. And that was it. Four years that I went with him until I graduated. And that’s when we got married and moved to Waldoboro. I worked at Miles as head nurse for medical and surgical. Nick worked with his father in construction, running the machinery.
I don’t know how Nick came up with bowling lanes. I just remember one day, when I was in the hospital with Maria – she’d just been born –Nick sat on the bed and said he’d bought a piece of land. “But you can’t put a house there. It’s on ledge. But I have an idea. I’d like to put in a bowling alley,” he said.
And I thought, “Oh, my God, what are you thinking?”
He said he was tired of construction and didn’t want to do it anymore. What could I say? And he did it, all by himself with the help of his friend George who owned the machinery. That land was all woods when they started. The machinery for one lane was the price of a Cadillac. And Nick was building eight lanes. We were in debt, head over heels. But it was what he wanted to do.
And those early years weren’t easy. His father died right after we got married and he was only 49. Right after, his cousin Janet died, and she was just sixteen. And then I lost my mother and she’d been only 59. I went down to about 90 pounds. I had two little kids, and I was to work nights, too. Finally, Nick said, “You’re staying home. It’s just too much.” And so, we got a babysitter, and I worked down at the lanes a couple of nights. We got through it. We were married 47 years.
People came from all over to bowl, from Boothbay, Wiscasset, even Rockland, because Nick’s lanes were new. And Sylvania was across the street. They even cashed their checks at Nick’s. And they ate lunch at the snack bar. Nick and another guy cooked. Some people said their cheeseburgers were the best in Lincoln County. Guys would bring their own beer, but they had to go to the car to drink it. Or in Nick’s office. So, Nick built the bar and made money. Of course, I worried that he’d be out late. And he was. Well, I’ve got stories, but I wasn’t there. I was home.
We first lived in an apartment above his mother. When he got the trailer park going, we lived there. But that happened gradually. It started with his sister-in-law putting her trailer on top of that ledge. Then a state cop wanted to put his trailer behind hers. Nick kept buying land and building. Five deeds and forty-two lots. It was 17 years before I had my house. And I loved that.
I sometimes think I could have lived down in Bremen, but no. This is home. I went four years in New York City and that was enough for me. I was glad to come home. As my mother used to say, “Your home is where you bring up your children.”
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