Ice Skating

 

I have loved ice skating for many years. I skated as a child for many years to and through my seventies. Winter meant skating. Skating was and is fun and good exercise. It also includes falls and bruises but I always thought they were just part of skating.

When we were small our father took my brothers and me ice skating when we lived in Lincolnwood, Illinois, somewhere near our home. We had our own skates and slid around until we got tired. That was the beginning of my love affair with this winter activity. We also did some skating on Clark’s Lake near our Door County cottage before we lived in Wisconsin. Skating on a lake that was bumpy and barely plowed was work but it was wonderful to be out on this lake in the woods.  Cold weather didn’t stop us as we raced around on our large-enough icy spot.

After our family moved to Sturgeon Bay when I was ten years old, we had the market square. It was a half block size parking lot that was between our school and the fire department garage. The kids and I sped around on our skates during those short snowy days after school and on weekends. We bundled up in our skates, winter coats, stocking hats and warm mittens, and every now and then warmed up in the warming house. That space is still there today but it no longer is a skating rink. It outlasted our school building that moved to other locations.

I remember playing crack the whip on the market square with a bunch of girls about my age. We held hands in a line and skated in a circular pattern, with one girl at one end swinging the line of girls until the girl at the other end was speeding around. Sooner or later the kids let go and the one at the far end went sailing across the rink and often fell. That happened to me once and I ended up flat on the ice with a bloody chin. I got up and skated again.

I grew up, moved to Green Bay, and had kids. Husband Rick was not a skater. The rest of us enjoyed a large rink at Astor Park in Green Bay. I drove us there whenever we had time. We put on our skates and joined the many kids and a few moms. The kids skated with little need for adult help.

At Astor Park I was delighted to see that Joyce, a mom I knew, was skating around the rink and teaching the kids there to figure skate. This good skater showed them some easy steps and moves. I think my Mary and Libby joined them. I watched the impromptu performances while I skated around holding hands with little Sarah. John said “no, thanks” and skated by himself.

Time went by. The kids grew up. Rick and I moved to Madison. I was still ice skating, this time at Elver Park, wearing knee pads and wrist pads to soften the falls. While I skated, some neighborhood kids there saw me and said things like, “Look, someone’s grandma is skating.” By that time I was past age sixty but still loved being on the ice. Unfortunately, in my seventies my balance became unsteady. The problem was getting back up. On a few occasions son John was skating and helped me get up after falling.

Finally I gave it up.