Messing Around

Do you ever have moments where there's a brief pause in your lesson? Maybe your coach is at the other end of the rink and wants you to skate down there to where he is,  or there's some devilish inspiration that overcomes you, and just for a few seconds you're off lesson: messing around.

Go ahead. Do something flashy.

This first happened to me on a public session where some music came  over the speakers and I put some moves on. I didn't think any of the skaters would appreciate an elderly woman doing some krumping, so I settled for some poppin' and lockin'. Dance Coach stared down at me and said in surprise, "You can dance."

You betcha. I can also do the Tango, Waltz, Mashed Potato, the Pony, the Swim, the Boogaloo, the Twist, and the Jitter-bug.

Just not in skates.

But now that the horror of the Dutch Waltz is behind me,  I've released my inner social dancer.

Occasionally.

And only when Dance Coach is in a good mood.

I'm not crazy.

Mostly,  I settle for letting my messing around be nothing more than an extravagant arm movement during a presentation glide. This makes Dance Coach squawk--What is that? Is not right! Is too showy! Did I tell you to do that!

Then last week we were in the box on Freestyle working on selecting music for my test session. Finally I selected the music for the Rhythm Blues that I liked.  Very bluesy. Dance Coach said, "Let's skate." and headed to the starting point of the dance. My problem was, out of habit I headed for the starting point of the Canasta Tango (which is at the blue line) and Dance Coach headed for the red line where the Blues start. This is one occasion where grabbing my hand would have come in useful, and he doesn't do it.

So I'm in the wrong spot just as the music starts. I look towards Dance Coach. I hear the music and I strike my Blues Pose.

This pose, plus 40 years, 50 pounds, and well, clothes

Then I put in a little shoulder action, with the traditional bluesy hip swivel and skated in a bluesy way, ending up in hold on the beat.

Dance Coach had no expression on his face. Then to my astonishment he said seriously, "That was actually pretty good."

Man, don't encourage me, or I'll be hamming it up during tests.

A bit of history at the rink

I was at the rink for afternoon public a while back, when I spotted a pair of wooden skate guards in the hands of a woman seated on the bottom row of the stands.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed, "Those are wood skate guards, where'd you get them?"

"They were my mother's; she gave them to my daughter."

The were made by the old Chicago firm of Nestor Johnson. A beautiful cream colored enamel over wood. They were so smooth they looked like plastic until you looked at a tiny spot on the end where the paint had chipped off. I've never seen any this good on ebay or any vintage site.

Then the daughter showed up in her grandmother's skates. They were just perfectly preserved. Five hooks, not four, and made from leather so soft you could have made gloves from them. They went up the girl's calf (she was my almost height). I looked at the blade and they weren't freestyle blades, or figures blades. So recreational in all probability. But those boots were definitely figures boot soft. All leather too, so from the days before plastic. (I rooted around online, and they may have been a version of Carol Heiss Recreational Skates--I found them with both 5 hooks and 6.)

Of course the mother and her daughter wanted to know if they were valuable. Certainly someone like me would like to have them, but I had to tell them there's not much market for used skating equipment.  She should treasure them for the memories of the grandmother who gave them to her.

I showed the girl how to tighten her laces and told the mother that if her daughter wanted to skate more she should get her new skates. Old leather can just give out if it's stressed, and new skates are designed differently.

"But," I told them, "If you show up at the rink with those blade guards, the old coaches will go just wild. Don't lose them. They're a piece of skating memoribilia."

(I'm kicking myself for not taking pictures. But I'm of the generation that doesn't think, "Oh, I have a phone I can take a picture.")

1928 (!) Nestor Johnson Speed Skate Ad

Silence of the Coach

 

There were long periods today when Dance Coach just stood there staring at my skating.  Silence absorbed him, descending around us like fog on a snowy day. 

That was really annoying. I missed the yapping.

He likes to have me start a lesson with fast crossovers around the circle. It's not a bad routine: speed, edges, posture, kneebend. The third time around the circle in silence I skidded to a stop, "What? What?" 

He pulled his lower lip and sighed. "Not bad." Then, "But, get your free leg higher, and hold the stroke longer."  A few crossovers later there was another sad sigh. "Not bad."

This is so typical of coaches. Silence is the sign I'm not  doing anything wrong--for my level.  I don't think it's a sign I'm doing everything right.  I'm just now getting the 'hold leg up higher' comment. Obviously that was always a problem, but I wasn't at the level where I could do it without falling forward on my face. Now I am. So, I'm getting 'tweaks', not 'remakes'.

We progress on to other elements in the Canasta Tango. No comments about 'hinching' (Dance Coach's made up word to cover 'hinging' and 'hunching'), no sharp cracks about "Control, control!", no throwing up of the hands in horror.

Then I caught a toepick and took a shaky stroke that had a lot of unrestrained wobble but I stayed upright. He was across the rink and swore in Russian. I whirled toward him, shaking my finger at him, "That better not be anything bad!"

For Dance Coach this is amusing. I must remind him of his grandmother telling him off back in Russia. He laughs, "Nothing bad, really."

I wish I could say the whole lesson was a burst of unrestrained joy at the improvement in my skating skills, but after minute 30 I hit the wall. I actually nearly took Dance Coach down while we were doing the two footed swivel step in hold from the  Cha-cha.  I started the wrong direction and my left blade hit his right one. Then there's the usual trouble with my left forward inside swingroll in hold. I can do a fast curve, or a tight curve. I can't do a  fast, tight curve. That thing scares me blind.

Relearned the Rhythm Blues, which I haven't done in a long time. The step behinds were as sweet as ever. The side pattern with the lilt and the hold is going to be my bugbear.

Then Dance Coach played music for me to select a song for the Canasta Tango. I listened to the second one. "That one, Hernando's Hideaway!"

Watch it all the way through. A great Broadway showtune.