Growing up in southern Indiana, our winters were not conducive to becoming proficient at ice skating. Although we did have some very cold days, they passed before freezing the lakes or rivers. Snows would cover the land, and the soot from the coal fires would quickly turn then nasty looking. and then a few days later we would have sloppy streets. I don’t have a lot of fond memories of winter in southern Indiana.
At a very young age I read a book about a boy playing hockey. I became fascinated with the sport. I read everything I could find in the local library on the sport. Then I discovered that I could listen to the Blackhaawks on radio at night, picking up the signal from the Chicago station. Johnny Gottsileg would announce the games, and I would eat it up. Oh, how I wanted to be a part of it. But that never happened.
My senior year in high school we had a very cold winter. The lakes in Garvin Park actually froze. I went down to the Salvation Armory store and found a pair of speed skates for a quarter. I bought them and headed for the park. It turned out to be a very frustrating experience. Let’s just sum it up to say it didn’t turn out like how I had imagined it in the playground of my mind.
I didn’t get to learn how to skate until I was thirty-one years old and living in Northern Illinois with an eight-year-old son who wanted to learn how to play hockey. If you have read other stories in my blog, you will realize that I ended up coaching hockey for 22 years. I guess my dream came true.
