By P. Gail Harrod – Ottawa, Ont.
In the late 1940s in Regina, Sask., my parents tried to provide us with every experience they could. One winter day, dad brought home a pair of secondhand black leather skates. My sister and I were both excited and disappointed at the same time. What could two girls, 14 months apart in age, do with only one pair of boy’s skates? Share them, of course!
Even more remarkable, dad made our own backyard skating rink. He did this for several years. In our backyard on Winnipeg Street after the first few snowfalls, dad took an old landscape roller he owned and with it, he packed the snow as flat as possible the entire width and length of the backyard.
When he’d achieved near perfection, he watered the yard with a garden hose. He flooded the rink weekly. We all helped clear the rink of the all too frequent snowfalls. It was fun and good exercise.
My parents struck upon the idea of starting our home skating lessons with the help of an old kitchen chair. Wearing the skates, we’d push the chair around the ice. With a lot of practice we became better skaters.
She glided gracefully
Eventually, we got another pair of skates and soon after, my mother took up skating in the yard. In those days, housewives didn’t participant in sports. In fact, I think mom was a bit embarrassed. She only ever skated in the evenings after dark, with the benefit of the porch light.
She glided gracefully around the yard and seemed to love it. We were amazed and proud of her, but she couldn’t be convinced to skate during the day. There was something of a “what will the neighbors think?” attitude.
As we got older, my sister and I preferred to go to the closest public rink to socialize with friends. Our younger sister and brother were left to learn on the rink at home. I am thankful our parents used their time to give us the experience of our own rink and encouraged us to learn to skate.
