Backyard Rink

Mmmm . . . skating . . . it's exercise AND fun. As a kid, I spent more time skating in my backyard rink than doing anything else. At least this is how I choose to remember my childhood in snowy Rochester, New York. I probably spent at least as much time fighting with my sister and reading (both non-seasonal activities).

I had an invisible friend, Clare, who would skate with me, and I particularly remember convincing a neighbor (pretty easily, I might add--more a reflection of the age of the neighbor rather than of my talent) that I was training for the 1972 Olympics. I have no idea why I needed an invisible friend to skate with, especially since I reveled in skating alone, the entire rink (such as it was) to myself. Nevertheless, I had Clare and I guess she became my audience.

It was about this time that I wrote a poem that received much acclaim in my 5th grade classroom. Go figure. It is, as I remember it, as follows:

The sun peeks through a sky of gray
a sliver sending rays
to unlock us from a world of gloom
and make it a happier day.

I probably called it "Untitled." Oy.

Today Geof and I went skating for the first time (in my estimation) in ten years. For about 45 minutes we skated on the pond in our little Central Park, down the street from our house. It was amazingly fun, particularly when we spun each other around corners trying to keep holding hands. Clare was not with us.