I am grateful to be typing this week’s column unhampered by broken bones or other injuries that might complicate movement or concentration.
Aside from the fact that I like not being hurt, I also like it that I don’t have to listen to any of those, surprised by my plan to ice skate, say to me, “I told you so.”
Nobody argued with the idea that an ice skating trip to the Jones Center for Families, located in Springdale, would be a very good way to spend part of a hot summer day with my grandsons Glendon, 10, and Dylan, 13. However, the reactions from some beforehand made me second-guess my plan to get out on the rink myself.
Now that all is said and done, and since we returned with, collectively, only a few minor bruises and one tiny cut, I am glad I didn’t listen to the naysayers. The trip turned out to be a good outing with my grandsons and also left me with the satisfaction of knowing - or at least believing - I am still only as old as I feel.
My grandsons are always fun to be with and the adventure started as soon as we headed out of Siloam Springs.
Dylan, the soon to be 14-year-old, pulled out a Led Zeppelin CD. With my nod - I figured it could be worse, right? - he slid itinto the CD player about the time we reached the traffic light at the highway 59 intersection. Soon we were rocking out to “Stairway to Heaven.” By the end of the CD, we had covered a good chunk of the road to Tontitown. Dylan played air guitar while I sang along with the lyrics and resisted the urge to sound like an old, out-of-touch grandma by mentioning the volume level. Instead I slipped my hand to the knob when Dylan was distracted and lowered the volume a bit at a time.
By the time we got into the Springdale traffic, Dylan had managed to accomplish the reverse action and had also messed with some other knobs on the dash to get the sound just right. At that point, I envisioned my Hyundai Santa Fe being the vehicle that vibrated with the bass beats as we sat at the traffic light.
The ice skating arena felt pleasantly cool after ourhot walk from the parking lot, and I was feeling good about being there.
After waiting our turn in line to pick up skates, I stepped up to the young man behind the counter and stated my shoe size. He obviously did not consider that I might be planning to skate myself since he reached for a pair of the blue, bladed boots and handed them directly to my youngest grandson without giving me another look. After straightening out our little miscommunication, the boys and I put on our skates and were soon ready to roll - oops, I mean “glide.”
My youngest daughter, Megan, met up with us at the arena, and exceptfor one unnecessary little remark, having her there was a big help. Since this was Glendon’s first time to skate, he needed a much steadier hand that I was able to provide, so it was great having his young, athletic Aunt Megan thereto assist. This also freed me up to concentrate harder on staying upright.
After hugging the wall for the first couple of laps, I started to venture out a little farther from the side, although I still felt about as graceful as a long-legged fawn trying to take its first steps.
Megan, who is in the process of completing training in the field of occupational therapy, apparently thought I was pushing the limits of my ability. My confidence was not helped any by her words of warning to me as I glided stiffly along.
“Be careful Mom,” she said. “I don’t want you to show up at HealthSouthwith a hip fracture.”
I must seem older to other people than I do to myself. Or, maybe, I just don’t like facing reality. In any case, if people would keep their thoughts on the matter to themselves, it surely would make it easier to live in sweet denial.
There are other things, however, I am more than willing to accept after all these years. One is that I still can’t decipher the meaning of Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” Even after listening to the song again on the drive home, the lyrics make no more sense to me now than they did when I was Dylan’s age. But, it is OK with me if some things never change.
“Oooooohh, and it makes me wonder….”
The Jones Center offers a host of recreational and other services - most at little or no charge. The center is open every day except Monday. For more information, call 756-8090 or visit www.thejonescenter .org.
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Annette Rowe is a freelance writer and a speechlanguage pathologist at Siloam Springs High School. She may be reached by email at awalkinthepark50 @ yahoo.com.
News, Pages 5 on 07/28/2010