My introduction to ice skating was mostly heading down a slippery slope!
Or perhaps more of a lumpy, bumpy ride. It was outdoors on a freezing night
on the magnificent Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C.
Frozen solid, it welcomed me to the cold winter of 1962, just after I arrived to
live in the Nation's Capital.
I bought a pair of ice skates attached to real white leather boots - something
I'd longed for since a child.
I'd longed for since a child.
One time on the pool was enough to make me understand why they built smooth
surfaced ice rinks, running Zamboni machines to keep them that way for
figure skaters, ice dancers and hockey players.
I gravitated to a rink, never becoming much of a skater myself. . . . . . but I still
love to watch others twirling on the ice.
How nice it would be to go ice skating with a smiling red cat!
One of many in the series of fantastic cat wall paintings along what has been
nicknamed, 'Cat Alley', a narrow brick-walled street taking one to the public
library in my husband Bob's home town of Manchester, New Hampshire.
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