Happy December, My Friend!
Even though we’ve celebrated several Christmases in Florida, where the weather is warm, decorations festively sit atop green grass, and the palm trees sport strings of Christmas lights, I still put “December” and “snow” together in my head. I’m writing this letter to you on December 1, and am resisting the urge to don a parka or a snowsuit, neither of which I have, so I guess I’ll stay in shorts and a tee shirt.
I was thinking about how much fun it was, as a kid, to play outside in the snow. It never seemed to bother us one iota that we were one degree away from frostbite. Since at-home video gaming wasn’t a thing yet, of course, we played outside.
There were a variety of outdoor play options, some more expensive than others. We were not a snowmobiling family, so that wasn’t a consideration. Skiing was a popular option, but it required a good bit of equipment, plus the purchase price of a ski hill ticket. There was also tobogganing (sledding). I remember having something called a “flying saucer,” which was made of silvery metal that we’d sit on and hope to fly down a hill.
By far my favorite fun-in-the-snow activity was one that just about every kid in town could do—ice skating. No fancy equipment needed, just a pair of skates. Everybody and their cousin Olaf had a pair of skates hanging in their garage!
Unlike the ski hill, which was outside of town and required a willing parent to drive, the skating rink was right in the heart of my beloved hometown. A bit of a walk for me, being a country kid, but many kids could walk to the rink. Or, it was an easy drop-off for parents. They could swing by the grocery store just a block away and pick up the makings for Swedish meatballs for dinner.
There was a warming shack (known as “the shack”) where a man worked at keeping a fire burning (was there a wood stove inside?). There were several wooden benches where we could sit and thaw out for a few minutes every now and then. I remember the benches had little nicks from kids setting their skates on them to tie their skate laces. The man in the shack would help us if we had trouble. He also played music over a crackly loudspeaker. To this day, if I ever hear the song Wipeout, I think of that skating rink.
I never quite achieved a level of proficiency on my skates. I was a proponent of the “step-step-gliiiiiiiide” method. Many other kids would zoom past or around me like they were Bobby Orr. No matter. If they fell, it’d hurt more than when I fell. Plus, I wouldn’t want my homemade pom-poms, which sat atop my skates, to get ruined! I worked hard on those!
There was a laundromat nearby the rink that many a preteen-in-skates wobbled over to for a treat from the soda machine. I remember it was the kind where you pulled the glass bottle straight out, and you left your empty in the crate beside the machine. There was nothing so liberating as walking to the laundromat in skates and buying a soda with no parents to boss me around. I can still remember that feeling of independence. Just me, my skates, a friend or two, and a bottle of Coke, or if I was really lucky, Dr. Pepper. I was living my best life.
From time to time, the rink would get “flooded,” and we couldn’t skate. I can’t remember how we ever knew that was happening. It’s not like there was a website that announced it was closed that day or a Facebook page with a post that said as much. When the weather conditions were right and the ice needed smoothing, the rink got flooded. Take it or leave it. (Maybe we went sledding on the days we couldn’t skate.)
One day, when my friend Linda and I were feeling rebellious, we decided to skate on Lake Superior rather than at the rink. The skating rink was for commoners, and we were wise and wonderful 13-year-olds who knew way better than they did. How is it that there is a whole Great Lake right here, and no one is skating on it? So much ice! We soon found out. No one was out plowing the snow off the lake or making sure it was nice and smooth. After a failed attempt, we joined the other commoners at the rink.
Oh, those snowy days of yore. They were definitely my good old days. It felt like a simpler time. But I wonder if we all think of our childhood as “better” than the current generation’s time? Aren’t these the “good old days” for today’s kids? Even though they may look very different, these may be the days my grandkids look back on and think are “simpler times.” It seems crazy to me that these days could be anyone’s simpler times. But that may very well be the case for today’s kids!
I hope that in these days and weeks leading up to Christmas, you might find comfort in remembering some good old days. But I also hope you find peace and contentment in these good new days. Some of each for me, please!
And now, for some reason, I’m craving a hot chocolate! It may be nearly 80 degrees outside, but I’ll put Wipeout on Spotify and pretend I’m back at the rink! Meet you in the shack!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
The Good Old Days
by Brian Bilston
Pity the poor children
of today, with their calendars
stuffed with chocolates,
never to know the thrill
of opening a small cardboard door
and discovering behind it
a picture of a bell.