It was Spring, 1962 . . . I found myself at the bottom of a neighborhood hill, laughing and giggling as I lay bunched up against a small row of bushes. I had just turned six and received a shiny new pair of sparkly-gold steel roller skates with bright red wheels for my birthday. I even had a skate key tied onto a shoestring to hang around my neck! I still have those skates, and I think they weigh as much as I did!
You see, moments earlier, I had been on the sidewalk at the top of that hill, flanked by my brother and sister (10 and 12 years my senior). They had been given the responsibility of teaching me to maneuver on my shiny new skates.
Now, kids today have all the “right equipment” . . . they have helmets, kneepads, and elbow pads. Back in the 1960’s, we had no such fluff. So, my sister, the practical one, had “belted” a pillow to my mid-section (for soft back-side landings), and tied rags around my knees and elbows — just in case. I couldn’t move, but I was ready to roll!
My relationship with my brother and sister was pretty much from a distance, as they were so much older than me. I knew my brother as the “teaser and tormentor,” and my sister was the “mini mother,” always looking out for me. With skates on my feet, I remember my brother wanting to just PUSH me down the fairly steep (to ME, anyway) sidewalk . . . just to see what would happen . . . and my sister holding me back from what she saw as certain death, doom, and destruction. |