Today was the UU 5th/6th grade roller skating party. I've had to miss the last few ones, because of other commitments, but today was free, free, free. So, vaguely remembering past parties, I changed out of my sweater so I wouldn't overheat. I put money and ID into a pocket so I didn't have to mess with a purse, and drove off to Mt. Scott Community Center.
I've been there for swimming and water aerobics, but I had no idea where the rink was. Turns out, you go around back through the parking lot on the east side of the building, down a switchback ramp, and under the basketball court. It's a small rink, with waist-high walls surrounding it, and an aisle surrounding the walls. There are openings at intervals in the walls, only two of which are in operation. Short, narrow benches are in the aisles on the east and south sides, bathrooms and a big room on the north side, and a small lobby area with an empty pop vending machine at the east door. The floor is a shiny blonde wood, like a basketball court. Being in the basement, there are support posts at intervals down one side of the rink: they are colored navy blue and padded all around. The kids swirl past them and swing on them and huddle around them. Sometimes Cathy has to break up some sort of hugger-muggery, but generally the vibe is good-spirited.
I start out in the big room. It has a large window looking out onto the rink. They've set a table under the window, and parents have loaded it with chips, cookies, candies, fruit snacks, and water. I drop off my chocolate-covered ginger and make a note: there are Girl Scout cookies! Thin Mints to be precise. I plan to reward myself with them if I can stay on my feet for a few rounds.
It takes forever to get the skates on. They are short beige boots, tight around the ankle, laced up the front, with orange wheels and the big orange toe stopper that I've never been able to use properly. I'm a skate-into-the-wall kind of stopper.
I remember when I was in 5th grade, we had regular skating parties at the Rainbow Roller Rink. Each grade school was assigned a specific night in the month, and grades 3-6 went. One year at least 3 classmates had birthday parties there. It was one of the main social events, growing up. The others were basketball games and movies. Of course, high school was a different thing: we had cruising, the IV (Italian Village Pizza), private parties, going to the mall. But in grade school, the Rainbow Roller Rink was it.
The Rainbow rink was at least 3 times the size of Mt. Scott rink. It was an entire building: the end at the front had benches and rest rooms and a long counter where you got your skates and concessions. The rink had outer and inner circles, with a hand rail along the outer wall. That wall could be opened up and propped up on poles on warm nights, and you'd look out onto the fields: the rink was located at the edge of town. The floor a dull scuffed oak, grey-beige in color.
The skates were white for the girls and black for the boys, and they laced up like Doc Marten boots, with hooks instead of eyes.
The music was two decades old. I remember swinging down the rink to the sound of Tommy Roe's "Dizzy." It was perfect skating music. I remember sitting out the couples moonlight skate, when the lights were turned low and the disco ball came into play. Then back out again for the girls-only skate. And off for the boys-only skate. And out in the center for the hokey pokey and limbo (I was eliminated almost instantly.) It was all choreographed, even to the owner, dressed all in black, skating around the rink with the kids to slow down the pace and keep an eye on us. I was always impressed with the people who could skate fast, low to the ground, swinging one leg over the other around the turns, and with the folks who could skate backward. I could get a little speed on, but nothing fancy.
I was an innocent. I enjoyed the skating, but I was outside the whole social scene. It was the grade-school kid's version of the high school dance. There were assignations and dates and breakups, but not for me. I knew that there were heart-burnings and private stories, and some of the older boys would go outside for clandestine activities. I watched it and overheard conversations in the rest room, and then went back out for more skating.
Today is different, of course. Part of it is the attendance: it's a 2-1 ratio of kids and adults. The boys seem younger than the girls, and the social stratifications seem non-existent. There are some tyros, hugging the wall or skating hand--in-hand with parents. Others go off in their usual groups, boys and girls in separate cliques, but friendly together. No one does anything fancy. I talk a bit, but I want to get out on the floor.
I don't remember how to skate. I am afraid of falling. (The kids are not: they fall with abandon.) I hold onto the round gray metal railing at the top of the wall, but it's too short to be a comfortable prop. I pull myself around the rink. My shins are burning, my feet ache, my little toe is rubbing against the boot. I don't remember this. I have to sit down, so I perch on the railing at the corner, back wheels propped on the baseboard. The burning subsides, and I lower myself back to the floor. The Beatles are playing, and eventually the muscle memory surfaces through the aches and I start swaying back and forth in time to the music. I'm skating!
An hour later, though, I'm done. I'm sweaty and stinky, we've done the hokey pokey, and it's time to leave. I take off the skates, and my feet take on that floating feeling I remember from 5th grade: once the heavy skates are off, your feet feel lighter than air. Then you go out into the frosty air, heavy coat over sweaty body, walking home under the winter stars, crunching through the snow.
Today it was pouring rain, but somehow it felt the same, minus the innocence. And the stamina.
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