a bit of fiction

One of my favorite places when I was a kid/teenager (sort of) was the local rink on Saturdays. We’ll sometimes.
I wasn’t that great a skater, but wasn’t the worst. I was never the last to be chosen, which is always like the worst fear huh? But it always seemed I was expected to be a lot better then I actually thought I was.
It was just between whoever showed up at the old outdoor neighborhood rink. A lot of the time though, better yet, it didn’t even involve the rink, it all took place on the snow and ice covered street. On our street, with every kid in the neighborhood that owned a hockey stick. What made that even cooler was the ages of those taking part would range from mid teens to almost teens. Sides were picked, were evened up, and the older kids would coach the younger kids. And this type of hockey was always more fun than the organized kind and way more fun than sitting around watching Saturday morning cartoons – you have to remember this would be the late 60s/early 70s so, um, a 3 channel universe, so it wasn’t like there was much else to do.
What was always amazing was how we could stretch those games to all day affairs. Parents bringing lunches, some heading home, others showing up to fill in the spots. No one sat on the benches, so it was never just 6 a side. Sometimes it was less, sometimes way more. And usually a sponge puck – I know now a lot of kids play street hockey with a ball, but I don’t remember that – but, sponge or not, when you caught one, or attempted to stop a sponge puck slap shot with your nose, well, it hurt, and yep there was usually a lot of blood. Which again, was always, way cool.
There was one game at the rink one Saturday morning that I will always remember. See, we almost always had the same crew of friends, but this one day a couple school friends showed up, that I didn’t even know could skate! Ted and Kelly had been my partners in crime pretty much ever since we hooked up in 7th grade, our first year of junior high. I don’t know if that meant doing things that we weren’t supposed to do, but it just meant a lot of weird fun. I seem to recall one day biking over to the local exhibition grounds, finding an old building/cabin, a rope, and a huge pile of autumn leaves. Thinking about it now it’s amazing how we didn’t kill ourselves, but what a blast.
Anyway, it’s funny how the memory works, it just seems bits and pieces edge their way through. I just have this image of the three of us skating down the ice. Ted on one side and Kelly on the other, the three of us just flying, end to end.
That image remains because of a really cool day, and every so often I wonder, ‘whatever happened to..?’ I guess it relates to something I picked up a while ago, a bit of reality that life is built upon nothing but misery and monotony peppered with moments of joy and happiness. Maybe that’s what memories are, a bit of warmth to help you push through a lifetime of whatever. Or maybe they’re a tease to make you believe, that, hey, life doesn’t only happen in the movies.