Last week my grandson, Wesley, called me with some bad news. He and his brother Calvin, his sister Lelia, and his mom had gone out for the evening to a roller skating rink. This was the second or third time they had been roller skating, and they had fallen in love with the exercise. Their mom, Jill, had skated as a youth, and she was excited to introduce the activity to her children. They say that roller skating is just like riding a bicycle, you never forget how. Well, that is the good news. The bad news was that at the end of the evening, just before leaving the floor, Wesley had fallen and he had broken his left arm just above the wrist. 
I commiserated with him, telling him how much I wished I could be there to comfort him, knowing all the while that there is only so much a Grammy can do when comforting a thirteen year-old. Hugs are dangerous when there are broken bones involved, and suggestions of sitting on Grammy's lap would probably be met with a sarcastic roll of the eyes, though, with Wesley I might get a surprise. He does love his Grammy.
After our long distance conversation I began to reminisce about my younger days on roller skates. My grandchildren would no doubt consider my props quite primitive. And as I gaze upon the picture of what is considered a pair of "antique" roller skates, I have to chuckle. They look exactly like the ones I owned and used for years. Guess that makes me an "antique" as well, though I feel as if I could buckle those babies up and take off right now on them. And so begins my short saga of skating away hours of my childhood on my "antique" skates.
The most exciting ride I ever took as a child was on my bike. As I have written, I spent hours of my summer days exploring my little town of five thousand, and soaring down steep hills. But the second most exciting ride I took was on my roller skates. I had no siblings at home to grow up with, so many times I played alone, using my imagination to pass my time away. I also had lots of games and toys and dolls that I had fun with. But being outside and seeing the world around me was so much better than sitting inside on a beautiful day with a baby doll to dress and talk to.
Falls City was primarily laid out in city blocks, all uniform in their rectangle shapes. Here and there would be a block of irregular shape, but you could measure your trip in our town by blocks. For instance, I walked exactly twelve blocks to school. (One of the most annoying things I remember growing up was having to walk a block out of my way and then back to get to my friend's house because the street I walked on stopped and picked up again three blocks over. I would have cut through, but there was a stream that I would have had to wade through, and the banks were too steep to manage.) My block was the standard, with six houses on our side of the block and two houses and a church on the other. There was an alley cut down the center.
Now, putting on these skates is a story in itself. You can see from the picture that it wasn't like putting on a pair of shoes as it is today, though when we went to the roller rink we did wear boot skates similar to the ones today. No, attaching these skates sometimes took some skill, a learned skill that came from trial and error and repeated applications. First of all, you couldn't just wear any old shoe with them. The shoe you wore needed a sole with a definite ridge around the edge. Tennis shoes or sandals just didn't work. Usually we wore an oxford type shoe that was very sturdy. Stepping onto the skate, the first thing to do was to buckle the strap, making sure it was not too loose, not too tight. Then we adjusted the metal grips on each side of the toe of the shoe. Here's where my trusty skate key came in. One end of the skate key was placed on the metal rod that turned, causing the grips to open and close. Again, it was important that the grips were not too loose or not too tight. The grips wrapped around the sole of your shoe, hopefully securing the skate. You're ready. You think.
Sometimes the skate fell off as soon as you stood up, and you would have to start all over again. Sometimes the skate would wait until you got half-way down the block before it fell off. Then you would have to sit down and start all over again. Remember, there are two of these skates.
Some days the procedure went off without a hitch, and I would skate around and around and around my block. To this day, fifty-some years later, I can tell you where most of the holes in the cement sidewalks were. I can remember the sections of sidewalk that had shifted over time, and so were not level. These are very important things to remember because these places in the walk needed to be navigated with care. Forget one silver dollar sized hole and it could send you sprawling, hopefully in the grass, but more than likely on the cement. I'll just say that I suffered many, many skinned knees and elbows in my day.
The church was fairly new at the time, and, along with the parsonage, it took up half of the block. Therefore, the sidewalk along this area was newer and smoother and a real delight for skaters. It also was on a slight decline, so going down that sidewalk in front of the church was so much uninterrupted fun. There were no hazards to watch for, just smooth sailing. But, as soon as you passed the parsonage home was one of the worst places on the whole block. One side of the sidewalk jutted up about two inches, causing you to have to remember to step over as you passed. What a memory I have! I can see that sidewalk in my mind's eye still today.
Crossing the alley way was a bit tricky as well because the alley wasn't paved. It was covered with rocks, so navigating around them took some concentration. Then on I went. I could say that I was mindlessly traversing my way, but that wouldn't be correct. I was always alert to the happenings around me. I checked out every yard, looking for something new to catalogue in my brain. There were sometimes dogs to evade, (no leash law back then), there were cats on one corner of the block to watch out for, but mostly there were dreams to be dreamed. It is a bit mindless, I guess, but I could go there for hours on end and never be bored.
Many times my friend Mary Casey was with me. When you skate with a friend the pattern is different. Sometimes we raced. Sometimes we were single file, traveling again in our own worlds. Sometimes we would skate the opposite directions trying to meet at the same place on each go round, scoring ourselves for accuracy. As I look back I can see how limited we were with our roller skates, but at that age we had no cares, we had nowhere to go. We were so happy with the monotony of traveling around and around our few square feet of our world.
Before I forget, I must retreat to the treasured skate key. If I lost my skate key, which I did sometimes, I didn't skate. You have to have one to adjust the skates. Oh, pliers worked, but they were too big and too awkward, and besides, you had to borrow them from Daddy which wasn't always easy to do. So, my skate key hung on a cord that I hung around my neck so that it was always with me. My roller skates tended to fall off often, and many times on the opposite side of the block, and way too many times sending me to the ground. I didn't want to have to round up my skate key at a time like this. And there was a special drawer at home where I kept my skate key (if I remembered to put it away) so that I always knew where it was.
I know this story seems to be a very mundane tale, but I can assure you that in an old woman's memory these were some of the most wonderful days. I had a very good childhood. My memories of it are so delightful and happy. I had wonderful parents, though I didn't think so at the time. They were happy and good to me. I lived in a happy home. Each of my days when not in school were filled with simple moments of simple pleasures. And on my roller skates, I was pleasured for hours.
I commiserated with him, telling him how much I wished I could be there to comfort him, knowing all the while that there is only so much a Grammy can do when comforting a thirteen year-old. Hugs are dangerous when there are broken bones involved, and suggestions of sitting on Grammy's lap would probably be met with a sarcastic roll of the eyes, though, with Wesley I might get a surprise. He does love his Grammy.
After our long distance conversation I began to reminisce about my younger days on roller skates. My grandchildren would no doubt consider my props quite primitive. And as I gaze upon the picture of what is considered a pair of "antique" roller skates, I have to chuckle. They look exactly like the ones I owned and used for years. Guess that makes me an "antique" as well, though I feel as if I could buckle those babies up and take off right now on them. And so begins my short saga of skating away hours of my childhood on my "antique" skates.
The most exciting ride I ever took as a child was on my bike. As I have written, I spent hours of my summer days exploring my little town of five thousand, and soaring down steep hills. But the second most exciting ride I took was on my roller skates. I had no siblings at home to grow up with, so many times I played alone, using my imagination to pass my time away. I also had lots of games and toys and dolls that I had fun with. But being outside and seeing the world around me was so much better than sitting inside on a beautiful day with a baby doll to dress and talk to.
Falls City was primarily laid out in city blocks, all uniform in their rectangle shapes. Here and there would be a block of irregular shape, but you could measure your trip in our town by blocks. For instance, I walked exactly twelve blocks to school. (One of the most annoying things I remember growing up was having to walk a block out of my way and then back to get to my friend's house because the street I walked on stopped and picked up again three blocks over. I would have cut through, but there was a stream that I would have had to wade through, and the banks were too steep to manage.) My block was the standard, with six houses on our side of the block and two houses and a church on the other. There was an alley cut down the center.
Now, putting on these skates is a story in itself. You can see from the picture that it wasn't like putting on a pair of shoes as it is today, though when we went to the roller rink we did wear boot skates similar to the ones today. No, attaching these skates sometimes took some skill, a learned skill that came from trial and error and repeated applications. First of all, you couldn't just wear any old shoe with them. The shoe you wore needed a sole with a definite ridge around the edge. Tennis shoes or sandals just didn't work. Usually we wore an oxford type shoe that was very sturdy. Stepping onto the skate, the first thing to do was to buckle the strap, making sure it was not too loose, not too tight. Then we adjusted the metal grips on each side of the toe of the shoe. Here's where my trusty skate key came in. One end of the skate key was placed on the metal rod that turned, causing the grips to open and close. Again, it was important that the grips were not too loose or not too tight. The grips wrapped around the sole of your shoe, hopefully securing the skate. You're ready. You think.
Sometimes the skate fell off as soon as you stood up, and you would have to start all over again. Sometimes the skate would wait until you got half-way down the block before it fell off. Then you would have to sit down and start all over again. Remember, there are two of these skates.
Some days the procedure went off without a hitch, and I would skate around and around and around my block. To this day, fifty-some years later, I can tell you where most of the holes in the cement sidewalks were. I can remember the sections of sidewalk that had shifted over time, and so were not level. These are very important things to remember because these places in the walk needed to be navigated with care. Forget one silver dollar sized hole and it could send you sprawling, hopefully in the grass, but more than likely on the cement. I'll just say that I suffered many, many skinned knees and elbows in my day.
The church was fairly new at the time, and, along with the parsonage, it took up half of the block. Therefore, the sidewalk along this area was newer and smoother and a real delight for skaters. It also was on a slight decline, so going down that sidewalk in front of the church was so much uninterrupted fun. There were no hazards to watch for, just smooth sailing. But, as soon as you passed the parsonage home was one of the worst places on the whole block. One side of the sidewalk jutted up about two inches, causing you to have to remember to step over as you passed. What a memory I have! I can see that sidewalk in my mind's eye still today.
Crossing the alley way was a bit tricky as well because the alley wasn't paved. It was covered with rocks, so navigating around them took some concentration. Then on I went. I could say that I was mindlessly traversing my way, but that wouldn't be correct. I was always alert to the happenings around me. I checked out every yard, looking for something new to catalogue in my brain. There were sometimes dogs to evade, (no leash law back then), there were cats on one corner of the block to watch out for, but mostly there were dreams to be dreamed. It is a bit mindless, I guess, but I could go there for hours on end and never be bored.
Many times my friend Mary Casey was with me. When you skate with a friend the pattern is different. Sometimes we raced. Sometimes we were single file, traveling again in our own worlds. Sometimes we would skate the opposite directions trying to meet at the same place on each go round, scoring ourselves for accuracy. As I look back I can see how limited we were with our roller skates, but at that age we had no cares, we had nowhere to go. We were so happy with the monotony of traveling around and around our few square feet of our world.
Before I forget, I must retreat to the treasured skate key. If I lost my skate key, which I did sometimes, I didn't skate. You have to have one to adjust the skates. Oh, pliers worked, but they were too big and too awkward, and besides, you had to borrow them from Daddy which wasn't always easy to do. So, my skate key hung on a cord that I hung around my neck so that it was always with me. My roller skates tended to fall off often, and many times on the opposite side of the block, and way too many times sending me to the ground. I didn't want to have to round up my skate key at a time like this. And there was a special drawer at home where I kept my skate key (if I remembered to put it away) so that I always knew where it was.
I know this story seems to be a very mundane tale, but I can assure you that in an old woman's memory these were some of the most wonderful days. I had a very good childhood. My memories of it are so delightful and happy. I had wonderful parents, though I didn't think so at the time. They were happy and good to me. I lived in a happy home. Each of my days when not in school were filled with simple moments of simple pleasures. And on my roller skates, I was pleasured for hours.
