When I was seven years old, my family went skating at a lake in Alberta and because I knew how to skate as I had been taking lessons since I was three years old, I was responsible for my father. You see in my family, there is the “Can skate” and the “Can stand up and move skater” and the “Fall down hard” skater. My father fell into the last category and it was my job to help keep him upright and mobile. This was not an easy task as my father was a tall man and, I being only seven years old was not particularly tall or patient. All I really wanted to do was skate really fast around that lake and show off my skills and instead I had to hold my father’s hand and convince him he could do it. So I put on my best face and waited for my dad to get his skates underneath his 5”12 stature and stand upright with balance. When that was achieved, I held out my hand and coaxed my father that yes he really could take a step and that I would help him. Well I must have been convincing because my father did try to take a step and another and another and that is when we all came to the realization that skating was not a sport he should ever do again. That realization came crashing down, On TOP OF ME as my father wobbled precariously and landed flat on top of me.
Since that day I knew what I wanted to do! I wanted to teach figure skating and help pass the love of gliding around on these thin pieces of metal.
I accomplished that goal and took pride in the fact that I was able to show adults and children the joy of skating. Of course, had it not been for my father, I may have taken up speed skating!