With This Rink I Somewhat Bled

Feb 2007 Issue

by Dave Ellis

Now that it’s Bridal Issue time again I would like to give out my advice to the men for creating the perfect wedding – just do whatever she says so you won’t be skating on thin ice. Speaking of skating on ice, I took my family ice skating last month and I’d like to tell you about it. Sorry about the lame segue, but I’m kind of tired of having to come up with good transitions between topics. I sure love nachos!

As a family we enjoy spending time with each other, or togethernessness, if you like. I try to find activities that challenge our capacities and put us in minor harm’s way. That’s why we ice skate once a year.

As most Olympic skaters will tell you, skating once a year is practice enough for this dangerous sport. It also lends enough time for my feet to heal, which leads to my first complaint, the skates (good segue!).

Ice skates are not made for the normal foot. There must be some kind of foot-binding practice going on in young skaters to make them immune. If you are going to be sliding fast four inches above the ground without any type of braking system, you definitely want your feet to hurt.

Now I know what you are thinking, “Dave, you are quite the portly fellow, how on earth do you skate? I mean the physics involved must be mind-blowing!” My how rude you are!

I skate quite gracefully thank you very much, just like the hippos on Fantasia, without the tutu. For a big fat guy I can move. I was skating so well that some of the teenagers at the rink nicknamed me after a famous hockey player. I don’t know who ‘Zamboni’ played for but he must have been good.

My five-year-old son started out slipping all over the ice but soon worked up a way to jog-skate on the ice. After about ten minutes he was outrunning me. My two older girls were doing so well I thought it would be nice to take my three-year-old-daughter out on the rink. She had little tiny skates on and looked so cute. I hunched over and held on to her little hands and skated around the rink while she coasted. She was having so much fun, she was laughing and looking so thrilled…until she hooked her skate in mine and then I fell on her.

First of all, she’s OK. The only part of her that made contact with me was her arm, which was under my stomach. She is lucky that I’ve spent years of non-activity to sculpt my stomach into the soft billowy padding that it is.

I really did my best of to take the brunt of the fall. After the tears I made sure to take her out once more so she wouldn’t have a fear of skating. It worked: she left there on a positive note. The only residual fear she has is of my shadow. She knows to stand outside of the shadow to be safe. Smart girl.

Well, the ice skating adventure is over for another year, but it does remind me of a poem that I’m making up for this article right now:

Ice Family

Where doth the frozen water turn
That maketh my feet to burn
And lo! Sendeth me in spins of harm
Until I fall on my daughter’s arm
(you may snap your fingers now)