Life on the Edge

Latitudes and Attitudes

2012-01-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

Many friends are already blowing in to San Jose for the 2012 US National Figure Skating Championships. I still have a few days to go before I arrive.

I was trying to think of an appropriate blog for this annual rite of passage. There is a lot that needs to get done, both at home and work, before we board the Big Bird to SJC. Once there, it won't be a marathon; we will be in full sprint mode. This is NOT a vacation by any stretch of the imagination, but there wasn't a place on my time card to mark "Five days off for insanity, after which I'll need a break."

This all leads me to my usual 3AM mental wake up call.

After spending the better portion of Friday night sending and receiving a flurry of emails, texts and messages on Twitter and Facebook regarding plans for San Jose, I tried to set my mind on cruise control and get some sleep. Early this morning, after dreaming about thunder storms and tornadoes carrying our house away, I woke up with a song stuck in my head. I don't know how it got there, but as I found myself randomly humming it over the course of today's pre-trip shopping frenzy, I realized why my subconscious had struck up the band. With apologies to my former Old Snowmass neighbor, here is a minor adjustment to his lyrics:

I took off for a weekend last month

Just to try and recall the whole year

All of the faces and all of the places

Wonderin where they all disappeared

I didn't ponder the question too long

I was hungry and went out for a bite

Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum

And we wound up drinkin all night

Its these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

With all of our running and all of our cunning

If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane

Reading departure signs in some big airport

Reminds me of the places Ive been

Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure

Makes me want to go back again

If it suddenly ended tomorrow

I could somehow adjust to the fall

Good times and riches and son of a bitches

Ive seen more than I can recall

With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

With all of my running and all of my cunning

If I couldn't laugh I just would go insane

If we couldn't laugh we just would go insane

If we weren't all crazy we would go insane

Some of My Best Friends Are…

2012-01-16T19:54:00.000-07:00

I was chatting via text and private message with some of my best friends. It’s time for the US Nationals and, for me, that’s a family reunion, of sorts.

Nerves are always at a peak a week before Nats. Every small issue occasionally seems overwhelming. Every communication (or lack thereof) from our skater seems to prompt a scenario worthy of a soap opera. Most of the time, it is just that. It seems like a never-ending drama occasionally interrupted by a real life commercial.

Thank goodness for friends.

As a skating parent, the most difficult lesson to learn is who you can trust. At the lower levels, rink talk usually turns into gossip. It seems as if you can’t trust anyone – including coaches - to keep things in confidence. There are no secrets, just conversations that get passed from person to person like a child’s game. You whisper in one ear and it is immediately passed to another ear, but with a different - and sometimes self-serving- interpretation. By the time you reach the “Big Leagues,” you’re not sure who you can trust. It seems much easier to just roll up in a ball like a hedgehog, or stick your head in the sand like an ostrich. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” becomes a mantra. It is a sad reality of our sport.

However, by the time you reach the championship level, all of a sudden that boat you’ve been in holds a lot more passengers. All of a sudden, you manage to find more life preservers; you find out that saving your friends can help you save yourself.

Here we are: A week before US Nationals begins and I know who my friends are. Yes, some are longtime friends; some are what we call “Frans,” (fans who have become good friends along the way). But some of my best friends are people who – like me – signed on for this E Ticket Ride. We are the survivors. Do we have all the answers? Certainly not. Do we have something intangible that binds us? Absolutely. No matter where we came from, how we started, and no matter how we will end our adventure, we share something very few have the privilege of experiencing. That makes us family.

So keep your friends close. Keep your skating friends closer. No one understands better what you’re going through than someone who has skated years in your boots.

(Dedicated to some of my best skating parent friends, and you know who you are! Thanks for being there. I’m stronger because of you.)

The Sky Is Falling…AND…The World is Flat

2012-01-04T19:35:00.000-07:00

Will Rogers proclaimed, “All I know is just what I read in the papers, and that's an alibi for my ignorance.” The same could be said for almost everything going on line these days as soothsayers are crawling out of the keyboards, crystal balls in hand, while the rest of us sit poised by our computers, iPads, Androids or Smart(?)Phones waiting for predictions that match our personal predilections as we careen headlong into the "juicy" part of the 2012 skating season.

Keeping that in mind, I am constantly amazed at what people are willing to believe. In this era of “instant communication,” almost anything – from the most mundane to the most insane- seems to trend in a media frenzy worthy of the parable on lemmings. We’re ALL lemmings this time of year; especially me. We’re following the sometimes self-proclaimed social media “leaders” who regale us daily with their reporting-cum-editorial quips and quotes. Many are legitimate, educated journalists; most (like yours truly) are sometimes humorous, mostly wildly opinionated but relatively predictable pundits of the pond. It’s the preamble to the US and Canadian Championships, as well as to Europeans and 4CC; it’s very much like predictions for the Golden Globes, Oscars, Tonys and Emmys all rolled into volumes of frozen verbiage that occasionally resemble a giant Slurpy.

With a very few, erudite exceptions, Skakespeare described it best in Macbeth:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Back to lemmings..

“You’ve probably heard the woeful tale of the tragic lemming, the small mouse-like rodents who, as the story goes, occasionally will spontaneously commit mass hara-kiri by doing a Greg Louganis off a cliff. This happy little parable is meant to illustrate how a lack of self-awareness and individuality can lead to a ‘follow-the-leader’ kind of mentality, even when that leader is taking his crew to a watery grave. Question authority, see the big picture, don’t just blindly follow, the story means to say. In short, don’t be a lemming.” (quoted from Mediaprose.com “The Lemmings Were Pushed.”)

Yeah, right. I’d like to say I resemble that cautionary remark. I don’t. I dare say - if you’re reading this - you don’t, either.

One Woman's Perspective on Facing a New Year

2011-12-27T19:31:00.003-07:00

I’ve never been much for making New Year’s resolutions. It always seemed to be doomed from the start. I would enter each January 1st full of anticipation and Advil, thinking there were so many things I could change/improve in a 12 month period. After all, “Superwomen” can change the world simply by making up their minds. That was 90% of the battle; the rest seemed like a piece of cape.

It is difficult to start each year feeling as if you are doomed to failure. That’s no way to live your life. If failure was the only option, there would never be success. An attitude adjustment seemed in order. Perhaps a new perspective was in order; a different way to view the universe. Instead of self-blame, now it was time for a realistic evaluation of what a true resolution means.

In the past 10 months, I have lost 40 pounds. This was not a New Year’s resolution; it was simply resolve. It became abundantly clear that if I continued down this path, it was not going to go well. Not an option when people in my family live into their 90’s and beyond. Not an option when I have two kids who are athletes. Not an option when I spent my earlier years as an athlete myself. Not an option when I have others who rely on me as much as I rely on them.

In the past 11 years, I have come realize that there is truly a difference between work and a job. If you love what you do, working at it is the reward.

In the past 23 years, I have come to realize that my family is the key to my success.

It took me 63 years, but I have come to realize that making New Year’s resolutions is not the point of making resolutions. It is about succeeding, not failing in what I set out to do.

I am successful. I am resolved. I am not restricted to a day, date or calendar to meet my goals. Bring on 2012, filled with prospects and promise. I promise whatever I make up my mind to do, I will do – as long as it makes sense. I will not put time constraints on myself – other than getting my taxes done and meeting my work deadlines. I am resolved to be the best ME I can be. That’s a resolution I’m pretty sure I can keep.

Happy New Year!

No Postage Required

2011-12-23T07:17:00.001-07:00

Life seems to have interrupted the holiday season this year. I didn’t get a single card in the mail, so I may be single-handedly responsible for the failure of the US Postal Service. For that, I apologize.

So, this is my holiday letter (of sorts) to all of you who have been so kind to follow my short stops, missives, missed steps and musings since 2009 – and even to those of you new to my life On The Edge of skating. I appreciate you all for being patient enough, and caring enough, to stick with me. I appreciate your checked boxes of “Funny,” “Cool” and “Interesting.” I truly appreciate your comments, even when they are less than kind, though fortunately those only come along once in a blue moon (whatever that means) and I always view my blog like a TV program: If you don’t like it, don’t follow it.

Most of all, I am very thankful there are so many skating fans out there. We need you in our sport. We’ve undergone a lot of changes since 2002. Some have been good; some have been arguably questionable. But the most important thing is you – the skaters, coaches, judges, parents and true skating fans. Without all of you, there would be no sport. And while we sometimes have a Love-Hate relationship with the ice, as well as with one another, we always come back to what drew us here in the first place: The pure art and sport of figure skating.

Happy Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa – or whatever you choose to celebrate. For me? I’ll celebrate another year on this roller coaster of being a skating parent, lover of words and occasional purveyor of humor. I’ll celebrate another year On The Edge, and hope you all continue to enjoy the journey with me. With or without you, I travel on, but the journey is more fun together.

Love to you all, Peace on Earth – and here’s to wishing for more great skating moments in 2012.

Congratulations to Michelle Kwan for her induction to the Hall of Fame!

One Moment Please..

2011-12-13T21:50:00.006-07:00

Last week, I was on Twitter quite a bit tracking the Grand Prix Final in Quebec City, Canada. I was going along quite nicely, thank you, chatting with people and expressing my relatively quirky point of view about what was going on in the world of skating. Somewhere along the line, someone I do not follow, but who apparently follows me, sent a Tweet to the effect, “Do you know how much time you’ve spent on Twitter today?’

Hmm..interesting question that is somewhat of a conundrum. You see, my job relies on social media. I spend a better portion of my day engaging with people via Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Flickr, and several more media outlets ending in the letter “r.” It is what I do for a living. It is what I enjoy. However, this person’s comment started me down another one of my “Squirrel” paths; it is one that I have been traveling for nearly a week now. It got me thinking about “time” and what that really means.

There are volumes of phrases, anecdote’s and quotes written about time:

Time flies when you’re having fun
As time goes by
Pressed for time
Perhaps, another time
Timing is everything
By this time tomorrow
A stitch in time saves nine. (I still don’t know what the heck that means…)
Greenwich mean time (Is time really THAT bad that it’s considered mean?)

Night time
Day time
Half-time
Time is money
Buy time
Waste time
Kill time
Spend time
Make time

Do time

Time out!

It seems time means a lot to us. But, in my opinion (and you certainly don’t have to agree with me), time simply “Is.” It is not something we can do anything to – or about. It exists in spite of us. Whether we watch it, or we simply clock its passing, time is not a noun on which we can truly overlay effective adverbs or adjectives. It exists no matter what we do.

I prefer to choose what I do carefully and with consideration. Far be it from me to associate unnecessary verbiage with something as important as time. After all, time knows no boundaries – particularly in social media.

So have a good time reading this while I continue to do what I love to do.

The Twelve Days of Skating ~ A Holiday Ode to the GPF

2011-12-06T18:57:00.001-07:00

(To the tune of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”)

On the first day of skating, this is what you’ll see

A judge scoring GOE

On the second day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the third day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Three triple jumps

Two –footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the fourth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the fifth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the sixth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the seventh day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the eighth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Eight sweepers sweeping

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the ninth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Nine teams a dancing

Eight sweepers sweeping

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the tenth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Ten “lords” a leaping

Nine teams a dancing

Eight sweepers sweeping

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the eleventh day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Eleven coaches stressing

Ten “lords” a leaping

Nine teams a dancing

Eight sweepers sweeping

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

On the twelfth day of skating, this is what you’ll see

Twelve bloggers blogging

Eleven coaches stressing

Ten “lords” a leaping

Nine teams a dancing

Eight sweepers sweeping

Seven scores a counting

Six fans a praying

FIVE OLY RINGS….

Four falling leafs

Three triple jumps

Two-footed spins

And a judge scoring GOE

(Happy Holidays to all my skater, coach, judge and fan friends!)

A Loss for Words..

2011-12-04T11:33:00.001-07:00

I’ve started two or three blogs over the past week, but I kept hitting a wall. I would get rolling on an idea and then find myself distracted by other projects. By the time I returned, my train of thought had already passed through the station and I was left on the literary platform, ticket in hand, with no place to go.

Such was the case again last night when I settled comfortably in front of the computer screen, staring at a blank piece of cyber paper, and trying to sort out what was going on in my head. After several hours, I downed the last of my glass of wine and headed to bed, once again verbally empty handed. I posted something to that effect on my personal Facebook page and was bolstered this morning by a writer friend who said much the same thing. No consolation for either of us, I’m sure, but at least we knew we had company.

When these things happen, I retreat to what makes me happy and that is looking at great singles skating. Though I love pairs and dance, my heart is drawn to the solo performances that transfix and transform. I fired up YouTube and started looking for my favorite competitive performances from the past: Janet Lynn, Peggy Fleming, Tenley Albright, Carol Heiss, Dorothy Hamill; Michelle Kwan. Paul Wylie, Scott Hamilton, Kurt Browning, Brian Boitano, Toller Cranston, Robin Cousins; yes, even the very troubled Christopher Bowman at his best; of course, John Curry. I looked at a few favorites from today’s skaters, too. For a time, I lost myself in the art and sport of figure skating.

During this period of mental escape and total transportation, I also discovered something important about myself. I realized I was seeking videos where the performances did not have commentary (my apologies to my commentator friends who may be reading this). I enjoyed the purity of the skating and the music. It seemed to be just the skaters and the ice. They were in their zone with no one else to distract them – not even the judges. No words exchanged, yet volumes spoken in a few fleeting and fascinating moments.

When I finished my cyber-voyeuristic journey, I found myself inspired. Great art and great sport motivated me. What I saw has been chronicled by others many times, but for me, it was almost beyond words..except for the 400 or so I’ve just shared with you.

Finger Tips (Part One)

2011-11-19T22:18:00.000-07:00

I need to make a point right from the start of this blog.

I feel better now.

What is this all about?

It's about fingertips.

I've been watching marathon Grand Prix skating over the past few weeks and I realized something about my viewing habits that would make me a horrible judge. While everyone chatters about transitions, edges, spins, etc., I find myself transfixed by fingertips. Like eyes, fingertips reflect the soul - particularly in a program. I can tell from the first few moments if a skater has a clue about what they are skating to, if they understand the music; if they've had any dance training at all.

I'm not talking about the lounge singer point and shake your booty thing. That's just sad. I'm talking about real choreography and feeling the music. To me, dance means extension - from your toes all the way through your fingertips. It becomes transcendent in skating when it seemlessly combines with jumps, spins and footwork to make you feel as if you can almost see the music, not just hear it. I don't like leaving a program "humming the costume," but my Thumper Theory mentality won't allow me to jump through the screen (with a +3 GOE), shake the skater, coach or choreographer and say, "What were you THINKING?!"

Certainly, I'm not talking about young skaters. They don't have the life experience yet to truly understand their music. They have their hands full just remembering their programs at all. I'm talking about elite skaters. These people have been on the world stage. For all the "miles" they've put on as competitors, I am simply amazed how many of them either choose, or let someone else choose, music that has nothing to do with their skating. Even if they don't have a note of music in their bodies, they should at least look like they do. That requires taking some form of dance, something I've been harping on for years. I'm not saying they have to be a Baryshnikov or a Curry; there just needs to be some relating to the skate, because when the oohs and aahs die down after the jumps and spins, what's left? The skater and the music - and hopefully something that elicits more than deafening silence from the crowd.

There have been some magic moments already this season from skaters who became their music, and even some flashes of real brilliance in programs that were less than perfect. These are the ones you hope to see again and again - getting better and better. These are the ones you hope will make you want to stand up and point at your TV or computer screen - or stand up in the arena - and cheer.

I hope you get the point. I hope we ALL do!

If I Could Turn Back Time..

2011-11-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

As I was resetting the clocks in my house this morning, I realized that this is truly the only time in your life that you can turn back time. My mind being what it is (as in constantly distracted by "shiny things"), I started thinking about what I would do differently if I could rewind.

If I could turn back time, would I change anything in my life - good or bad? Would I trade my experiences - good or bad - for different ones? Would I change my life at all?

"We are who we are" because in our life "It is what it is" (and other appropriate cliches - "Life is not a dress rehearsal," "You've but one life to live," "Never look back."). That makes the world of "What If" a dark one, and frankly not worth the energy pursuing. I'm convinced there is some cosmic Karma that brings us to any moment. The question is not what we did in the past, or how we'd change it - or what would happen if we actually could - but it's about what course we'll chart with the information we have. This is what will affect our future ... which then becomes our past...so we can look back...(okay, my brain hurts).

So, as I turned back my clocks to meet the convention of Standard Time, I realized there is no such thing as standard time. I didn't gain anything; I didn't lose anything. I didn't waste time, kill time, have downtime or find myself with time on my hands.

Bottom line: I wouldn't trade my time, my experience or my life with anyone else. Good, bad or whatever normal means to me, I'm fine with the here and now and excited to see what the next "Here and Now" will bring. I'm looking forward to it!

The "X" Factor

2011-11-01T07:15:00.000-06:00

Have you ever watched the X Games? My daughter competed in Winter X three times so I am not only familiar with it, I'm a huge fan.

I was trying to figure out what it is about this hybrid set of sports that fascinates me. Yes, the competition is beyond convention. Yes, the difficulty is beyond definition. But what impresses me the most is the camaraderie. Wow - compete and then cheer for your competitor? Compete and appreciate the talents of someone else? Sportsmanship? What a radical notion!

So, what is it about our sport that seemingly makes sportsmanship taboo? What is it that keeps most of our athletes from cheering and admiring the skills of their competitors while honing their own talents? I have to openly admit this is the part of skating I have no patience for and I absolutely abhor; it gives too many of our athletes a reputation for being divas.

Don't get me wrong. I am not saying that everyone has to like one another off the ice. What I am saying is that skills develop differently and talents are as diverse as the skating population. To admire is not to acquiesce. To look at a competitor and applaud his or her skills is not admitting weakness. To me, it is the ultimate display of being appreciative while also being self-assured. You feel good enough in your training and the level of your skills that you can allow yourself to acknowledge the skills of others. You see a gauntlet thrown, you admire it and then you pick it up and throw down your own. May the best man - or woman - win. When someone else wins, you don't condemn the judging, you congratulate the victor. Then you figure out how you can be that person next time around so they are congratulating you. It's a simple concept, really.

I'm very lucky to have a lot of young guy skater friends, which I guess comes as no great surprise. But in looking at why, I realize it's because they are people who I admire for being able to separate the yoke from the white by simply cracking the shell of competitive sports. They know the balance of enjoying two distinctly different elements of the whole. They appreciate the well-turned omelet more than the hastily scrambled egg because they understand the subtleties and balance it takes to create rather than just dish; they applaud all effort because they deeply understand the essence and the art of execution. They not only love the sport, they live it. And they love others who share their same passion, whether they compete against them or not.

Back to the X Games: Four athletes stand at the top of a half pipe awaiting their turn. They are inwardly focused. With eyes closed, they are visualizing their tricks over and over. They compete. They do their best. Some succeed; some fail; some get openly upset with themselves for not doing their best. But almost without exception, when their turn is done, they wait at the bottom of the hill, watching and cheering on their rivals. When it's over, there they are by the sidelines to offer high fives and hugs of congratulations or words of encouragement, no matter the outcome. They appreciate the difficulty of their disciplines. They observe and learn. When the scores are in, they congratulate one another and start working to hone their considerable talents so they can win next time. It's the culture of X. It's a recipe for success. It's what draws audiences, but more importantly it is what keeps them. These are not teams. X Games is a series of individuals drawn together because of their shared passion. This is what separates these athletes from the rest of us. This is why people will pay money to go see them, and why the divas of their sports don't survive.

In a world of mostly "Me's," there is much to be learned from X Games athletes. Are they all perfect? Of course not. But their culture is one of sportsmanship and support in disciplines - like half pipe, bumps and big air - that are also subjectively judged.

The X Factor is defined as the intangible that separates good from great. To me, it's not only skill, it's sportsmanship. Those are key ingredients in the recipe for success.

A Few Words about Champions of the Heart

2011-10-15T08:57:00.003-06:00

I have been fortunate in all my years of being around skating to meet and call friend some truly amazing people in our sport. Not only were they medalists, stepping atop the podium to the accolades of the crowd, they have continued to be true champions and leaders throughout their lives. They worked hard at what they learned; they worked hard for what they earned. No doubt, some had their bouts of hubris, but what they shared with all of us speaks volumes to what it means to have a champion's heart. These are some of the gentle ladies and the true gentle-men of skating. They have elevated spirits and enriched lives both on and off the ice. They are the reason young skaters dream.

My first true skating memory of a champion on ice was Peggy Fleming. I was still skating in earnest when I watched her glide her way to gold. At that point in my life, I didn't know her story. I didn't care. All I knew was that this graceful vision seemed to have a clearly beautiful soul. Humble - seemingly even shy - she was grace personified. She caught my imagination and secured my love of the sport, allowing me to truly appreciate the skating of other Greats over the years including Carol Heiss, Tenley Albright, Janet Lynn, Dorothy Hamill, Kristi Yamaguchi, and incomparable Michelle Kwan.

In those earlier days, I was mostly enamored with the women of the ice. But as I spent more time reading and watching films, I gained a great appreciation for the athleticism of Hayes Jenkins, David Jenkins and Dick Button. They introduced me to "the black boot" side of the sport. Later on, there was Charlie Tickner, Scott Hamilton, Robin Cousins, Brian Boitano, Paul Wylie and Kurt Browning. And even before that, there was my all-time favorite when I was growing up, the gentlest of gentlemen show skaters, "Mr. Debonair" Richard Dwyer. I would plead to go to ice shows when he was in my hometown. He defined class on ice.

But, I personally learned about the heart of a champion in 1980.

I wasn't the only one who cried when I watched my favorite pairs,Tai Babilonia and Randy Gardner, withdraw from the Olympics in Lake Placid after Randy's injury. I wasn't the only one who penned a heartfelt note of support. I also wasn't the only one who received a personal, handwritten reply on three sides of a thank you card some months later. Until I lost it in a fire, it was my most treasured possession and sat next to my autograph from a wonderfully gracious Gene Kelly, who punctuated his signature with a kiss on the cheek of a then star-struck nine year old girl. I couldn't help but think about how many notes Tai and Randy wrote over those months of his recovery, and how many people were as surprised as I to receive that precious envelope filled with gratitude and love.

The thing that continues to impress me about all these great people is how much they have given back to the sport for which they sacrificed so much when they competed. Their backgrounds and stories are different, but their hearts are all the same. They are not perfect, but they don't need to be. What they possess is something so much more than what we see on television or in magazines. They possess the gift of deep commitment and caring. In their own ways, each one has given back to skating more than the sport could have ever given to them.

Webster's dictionary has many definitions of hero, but the one that rings most true to me is, "One who shows great courage." A heroine is defined as "a woman admired and emulated for her achievements and qualities." These human beings, with all their human qualities and seemingly super-human skills, were recognized by their medals, but they did not allow themselves to be defined by them. Instead, they used their successes on the ice as a springboard to do good in other arenas. What they publicly shared with us through their personal triumphs,tragedies and lifetime accomplishments, has meant more than those fleeting moments on the podium. They made the sport richer, and many lives richer, for being the people they are.

So, this is my personal but very public note of thanks. May we all continue to learn from your caring, sacrifice, sharing and boundless love of life, as well as from the common bond that you all share. Thanks to those treasured frozen moments you brought to life with your hearts, and for all those things you've done with your lives since then. You were, are - and continue to be - my heroes and heroines.

Being a "Giving Tree"

2011-09-24T09:42:00.000-06:00

   When I was a young parent, reading Shel Silverstein's "Giving Tree" always made me cry. Now, it makes me mad. By way of explanation, here is a Wikiquote on the book's interpretation:
"Ever since the book was published, it has generated controversy and opposing opinions for its interpreted messages on whether the tree is selfless or merely self-sacrificing, and whether the boy is selfish or reasonable in his demands of the tree. The story clearly shows childhood as being a time of relative happiness in comparison to the sacrifice and responsibility of adulthood."

Yeah, right.

   I guess I've become a cynic in my later years because I've heard so many parents in so many rinks and at so many competitions saying to their skaters, "Look what I've given up for you. At least you can go out there and try." I just heard it again last week at a small non-qualifying competition while the not-even eight year old pre-juv skater sat sobbing in the stands after skating her heart out but falling three times in her program. It made me wonder how long she will stay in the sport, and what these words were doing to her self esteem. I suspect she'll quit. I hope she becomes a psychologist and not an ax murderer.
   So, for what it's worth here's my take on it: We all give things up for competitive skating. Some give up more than others; it comes with the territory. Parents who use the "Look what I've given up" line as a weapon need to step back and examine their behavior - and the reasons behind it. Most likely, they got their kid into the sport in the first place. If their personal dreams of a "Gilt Trip" have not met or exceeded expectations, quickly it turns into a guilt trip and a familiar skating cry of "Why me??!!"

Why you? Take a good, long look in the nearest mirror and ask that question. Who's reflection is looking back? Is it you or your skater festooned in medals standing atop an Olympic or World podium smiling and mouthing "Thanks Mom!"

I am not saying that parents are the only ones who are manipulative. Oh no! Take another sobbing young skater in the stands who will only be consoled by a new practice dress, sweater or warm ups. The "self-sacrificing" parent dutifully follows the skater to the vendor booths, credit card in hand, because buying something more will make it all better, and the next skate - in a new outfit - will be perfect.

So, how do you balance all this? I don't know. I wasn't successful all of the time and you won't be either. My point is to take a look at behavior; take a look at motive. It's tough to really step back and see the "why," but if every once in awhile you can, it will make this journey so much better for everyone. After all, when it's over you don't want to be stumped as to why it all happened in the first place.

Go Figure..

2011-09-11T22:59:00.001-06:00

Button up your overcoat,
When the wind is free,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
Eat an apple every day,
Get to bed by three,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!
Be careful crossing streets, ooh-ooh,
Cut out sweets, ooh-ooh,
Lay off meat, ooh-ooh,
You'll get a pain and ruin your tum-tum!
Wear your flannel underwear,
When you climb a tree,
Oh, take good care of yourself,
You belong to me!

Okay, some of you may remember this song from your childhood. Most of you won't, just like most skating parents (particularly Skating Moms) don't remember to take care themselves.

If you follow me on Twitter @PCFclub, you know I've been on Weight Watchers since April 8 of this year. Since then, I am proud to say I have lost 34 pounds. Did I gain it all at once? No. Did I realize what was happening to me? I'd like to say no, but I'd be lying.

So what happened?

While I wasn't looking, life happened. Work happened. Stress happened. Age happened. Too many excuses happened and 10 years happened, too. I can't blame skating; I blame myself. But this is a reminder to parents just starting out in this sport that it CAN happen to you.

It seems innocent enough. You go to the rink and you bring lunch for your skater, or you bring something from home. You're sitting watching. Your skater takes a bite or two. Your grandmother's voice rings inside your head:

You innocently munch on what's left. You go to competition. It's expensive. You take a "To Go" box from dinner but there isn't any place to store it. Midnight snack. You let your gym membership expire because you're too busy or it simply costs too much. You can't leave a session because you may miss a first completed Axel, loop, lutz or Salchow. You get a hot chocolate from the machine because it's cold in the rink, even if it's 80 degrees outside. You're bundled in warm clothes most of the time - sweaters, parkas; everything is loose-fitting. It is your security blanket; it is your cocoon. The problem is you don't emerge a butterfly; you emerge a butterball.

I can say this. I've been there. Next week, I celebrate my 63rd birthday. I'm old enough to know better. Unfortunately, I wasn't wise enough until recently.

For skating parents, particularly moms, weight gain is insidious. Sure, there are the moms who jog around the rink during practice while keeping a watchful eye on their prodigy. There are the moms who go to the gym with their skaters and act as coach and trainer rolled into one. There are the moms who run mile after mile every day in between sessions. Then there are the moms who fool themselves into thinking they are taking good care of their skater and their family while letting go of themselves. Yep, that was me.

It wasn't until I ballooned up to a size 14 and started having health problems that I took a good look in the mirror and said, "Get a grip! Do something NOW or you're not going to be able to take care of anyone." Yes, my epiphany was that sudden. Yes, it was that serious. It was an awakening that was 10 years in the making. Now, I stand back and wonder why it happened in the first place and what took me so long to realize that taking care of everyone else meant being "Self-less," not selfless. I lost myself. It's been 16 weeks to find me again. Not a long time on the calendar, but a lot lost along the way. At least it isn't gone for good.

For those of you reading this and saying, "I know better than that. My kid's an athlete. I know how to take care of myself," all I have to say is good luck with that. Some of you will succeed. Kudos to you. The reality is most of you won't. But from my side of the scale right now, I can tell you watch out.

While you're watching the health and welfare of your skater, watch what's happening to you. Be aware not only of eating disorders your kids may be faced with but the ones you are walking into yourself. It is a fine balance between what is healthy and what is obsessive. Keep yourself balanced so you can keep your skater balanced. Seek professional advice from a doctor for both of you. Don't let peer pressure affect your judgement. Don't let coach pressure affect your judgement. No one wins if you find your skater, or yourself, with eating disorders. No sport is worth a life. Truly. Not yours and certainly not your skater's.

So, what about now? I'm at the weight I was when we moved here for skating and I am proud of that. I walk 10,000 steps a day measured by my ever-present pedometer. I've spent a fortune in Sketcher Shape Ups and in clothes that actually now fit the "New" me. I've shed the parkas, big sweaters and scarves that hid my weight gains. Belts have become my new obsession. I feel better than I did at 50 and I'm enjoying every minute of it. My regret: There were no blogs 10 years ago to prepare me for the pitfalls. I hope there are a few of you out there listening and taking heed in this cautionary tale. Do as I say; don't do as I did. Do as I do now and you will be a LOT happier. I feel as if I lost 10 years of me along the way to where we are today. I can't get that back. I can only be happy I figured it out before it was too late.

Parent-Coach Relationships Part 4: R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

2011-08-30T18:38:00.001-06:00

I know my other three blogs may have seemed a bit harsh but they were meant to make a point. Over your time in skating, you will have to deal with numerous personalities, numerous decisions, numerous highs and lows. You will lose perspective more than once. You will lose patience more than a thousand times. However, the one thing you must never forget is R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

Skating is a difficult sport through all stages. Coaches - even young ones - have usually been around a long time as competitors themselves. They have gone through the system; now, they are learning new skills. Along with that, they are learning how to deal with students - and how to deal with you. Teach your skater to say thank you after every lesson. Remind yourself to do the same. Saying "Thank you" goes a long way to opening the doors of communication between you and your coach, no matter what the level.

Respect your skater. Listen to what he or she has to say about what's happening on and off the ice. Remember some of the most important information comes "out of the mouths of babes." Listening will be your best way to determine if there is truly a problem, if a change needs to be made or if what is being experienced is just growing pains.

Most of all, respect your own position as the one who pays the bills. Do not be a Bully Boss. Do not think that you know more than the coach because you probably don't, unless you are a coach or judge yourself. But do not be bullied, either. Coaches are professionals. That is why you pay them. That does not give them the right to disrespect you, to talk down to you, ignore or patronize you as the parent. Know when your greatest asset, your child, needs something else or, in a worst-case scenario, is truly at physical or mental risk. Know that, at times, it is best to part company for the sake of everyone involved. Know, too, that walking away is not always the answer. Sometimes it leaves more questions.

You won't always make the right decisions. Just like the fact that there is no One-Size-Fits-All coach, there is no Easy Button and no book of instructions to help you maneuver the pitfalls. There are resources. USFS has a parents' committee. PSA (Professional Skaters Association of which all coaches must be members) has a coach committee. They both can offer invaluable resources and information to assist you. They both have sources for grievance if something is truly, seriously wrong. Be a smart consumer. Be a good employer. Most of all, be a great parent because when skating is finished, there is nothing like having your child respect you and say thanks for providing the support and opportunity to live out some or all of their dreams on ice.

Parent-Coach Relationships Part 3: In This Corner..

2011-08-29T06:20:00.000-06:00

It doesn't have to be this way, you know. It doesn't have to be YOU vs. COACH. When you're feeling cornered or angry, then it's a good time to take the full 10-count and step away from the ice for awhile so you can really listen to your skater. What you hear - and what you don't - will speak volumes about what's happening on the ice, in a lesson and in the rink. I'm not talking about grilling your child when he or she walks in the door. This isn't about how many falls, how many times a program was played or even how many times the rink boards were singlehandedly held in place by your skater leaning on them. This is about being open to listening, observing and being aware of changes in behavior patterns. If you notice your skater is jumping on a scale every time a meal is finished; if you notice a lot of time alone when your child is usually gregarious; if something just doesn't "feel right," then it's time to talk. It may be school. It may be rink bullies. It may be numerous other reasons that certainly need attention and discussion.

However, if you honestly think there is a problem with the coach then set up a meeting with him or her to talk about what's going on. If your skater wants to, or is old enough to participate, invite them to be part of the process. If not, don't force a meeting that may make matters worse. Remember who is the adult; remember who is the employer. Go into a meeting as a business person, not as someone on a witch hunt. Your child is your lifelong investment. In order to mature, the right decisions need to be made calmly and rationally - and the most difficult part of all - with a minimum of emotion.

Easier said than done. But when all is said and done, there should only be one corner everyone is standing in and that's the one that supports your skater's dreams and goals.

(Next Up: R.E.S.P.E.C.T.)

Parent-Coach Relationships Part 2: Checks and Balances

2011-08-28T08:41:00.000-06:00

In The Beginning it is a lot of fun, isn't it? Basic Skills competitions. Small club events. Everyone supporting one another. The club stays and eats in groups. Everyone cheers for the club skaters. It is the Golden Age of skating and, yes, it holds the promise on which dreams are made. And it rides gallantly on the shoulders of young coaches who are enthusiastic, fun and energetic. It is the start of a dream come true.

But now there are the expenses. Private lessons. Club fees. Coaching fees. Competition entry fees. Music. Costumes. Choreography. Travel, hotel, meals and practice ice. Starbucks. The bills mount. The results are sporadic. There are mercurial highs and lows that seem like the Black Hole. With each success - but more with each "failure" - you strive to find an answer.
You have probably changed coaches once, maybe twice, at this point. You've sat on the freezing cold bleachers for hours on end dissectting every nuance of the sport. You've become an expert. Maybe you've even considered becoming a coach yourself - or a judge. Yes, that's the ticket! You know so much more than any of them by now. You know the difference between a Lutz and a flip, a Salchow and a loop. You even know who Salchow is because you Googled the name. You know your skater is raising/dipping a shoulder and just straightening it out will make that single into the first ratified quad at the juvenile level. Never mind that it isn't allowed. Everyone will be in awe. You could save a lot of money by taking this all on yourself. Yes, that's the ticket. Take it all on yourself. No more paying for "unnecessary" coaching. After all, this is your kid. Who know your kid better than you?
Scary, isn't it..
The reality is that you've lost sight of reality. It is not uncommon, especially early on in the sport. You are looking at all those checks you've been writing, and you are looking at the bank balance each month. The outgo is more than the income. Spouses are starting to grumble that there isn't a vacation that doesn't involve an ice rink. You are assessing the return on investment and in your mind it is not adding up, but you are not about to quit. You've come too far at this point - even if you're only at pre preliminary. You've made the commitment. You are going to succeed. Damn the judges and coaches; full speed ahead. Your dream is waiting...
Of course, there is something standing between you and your dream of success: The interest and dedication of your skater.
Details..

(Next Up: "In This Corner..")

Parent-Coach Relationships Part 1: In the Beginning..

2011-08-27T10:21:00.000-06:00

I have to start by saying not every coach is "one size fits all" for every skater. It is a rare situation when one coach can do it all over the lifetime of a skater's career. As a matter of fact, I can only think of a few.
That being said, as a parent you can expect to deal with a number of coaching styles and personalities through the years; the question is how do you know who will be the best fit? The answer is you don't. The other answer is do your homework.
Initially, choosing a coach is like pushing the Easy Button. Your child starts in Learn to Skate. The "coach" (who is most likely an apprentice or a competitive skater trying to help pay bills) is enthusiastic, upbeat and is telling you how much progress is being made, and how much more would be made with "a few private lessons." Your personalities click . Your kid is happy. Visions of Olympics dance in your head. This is going to be a lifelong relationship that will take all of you to the top of the podium. Also, it's not costing you a lot at this point. You're paying for group lessons. You're coming to the rink a few times a week. You have rental skates and sweat pants, or a little ballerina skirt and sweater, for your child. How bad can this be? Life's good.
You agree to a private lesson a week. Progress is made.
Your child does a Basic Skills competition. You frame a ribbon or first medal.
More lessons. More competitions. Now you're traveling to other cities. You're spending time daily in the rink watching. It all seems so simple. Your young coach is telling you what wonderful progress your skater is making.

But now you are looking at the other kids. Little Sally is always winning. John is already working on axel and he started at the same time as your skater. What's going on here? You have a talk with the coach. Shouldn't your skater be doing these things? Are more lessons necessary? You are sitting in session after session analyzing every move, every spin, every fall. You're spending money and not seeing a return on your investment. You are doubting your coach's ability to take your child all the way to the top. Maybe it's time to have "The Talk."
Maybe it is. Just make sure it's for the right reasons. Young people all develop differently. The skills and techniques they need seem simple on the surface, but like any foundation, if it is not level; if it isn't complete, over time it will not support the framework of this competitive house you envision. There is a reason it is called Basic Skills.
But for the sake of argument (and a shorter blog), let's say your skater has truly outgrown the coach. A great coach will be proactive and tell you it is time to move on. We were fortunate enough to have several coaches who did that over the years. We owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude for knowing their limitations and recognizing our skater's potential. That is truly the exception and not the rule. Instead, you find yourself at a crossroads and you know you need to make a change. It isn't easy. It must be done. Do it with kindness and respect, even if the situation warrants something different in your opinion. The skating world is small and that young coach may end up a club president, director of skating or a skating official in the future. Try not to burn bridges.
Now you find yourself looking for the next person who can do it all for your skater. What do you do? Where do you go? How do you know? I hate to tell you this but you don't.
Now that Easy Button security is gone. Your role has changed from bright-eyed parent to one of employer. That's what you are. You pay the bills. Time to start interviewing. After all, your next coach has to meet your expectations. Those are some pretty big shoes to fill. Make sure those expectations are realistic.

(Next up: Checks and Balances)

HEAD FOR THE HILLS!

2011-07-23T23:39:00.004-06:00

I've been entirely too serious of late, so here is a lighthearted take on a serious subject: skating music.

Yes, I know I've talked about this before, but it's a sore subject with me, so I'm going to (down)beat the topic into the ice again. This time, however, my rant is about production quality, not about overused music.

As a former competition announcer and skating music DJ of sorts, I am amazed, astounded and often-times deafened by bad edits, scratchy tracks, over modulated recordings and selections that make NO musical sense whatsoever. Who thought this was okay? Let me regale you with a few true, though slightly embellished, examples:

A skater turns in a CD that says "PLAY LOUD!" all over it. Really? How about recording it properly? I've had music that was cranked ALL THE WAY UP and was still inaudible. Even if you bought hearing aids for everyone in the building, Beltone wouldn't save that program.

Next, a skater turns in a CD that says "PLAY LOUD" all over it. Dutifully, I crank it up and it blows out every speaker in the arena, sends dogs into uncontrolled howling, clears the bleachers and sets off emergency alarms summoning a barrage of police, ambulances and fire trucks.

A skater turns in a CD that looks like it was drop-kicked in the parking lot, backed over by a forklift, used as a Frisbee and then as a mirror to check makeup before competition. I wipe it off, put it in the machine and lo-and-behold I get the sound of fingernails on a blackboard before it decides it doesn't want to play! Tears from the skater; words from the coach that cannot be repeated here. Of course it is my fault because, "It played PERFECTLY in OUR rink yesterday!"

A skater turns in a perfectly good CD. That's a step in the right direction. The opening pose is stuck. The music begins. Heads turn in breathless anticipation. The sound system is suddenly taken over by aliens and out comes Hip Hop Polka that jump cuts into Rachmaninoff and scratch spins into some Michael Jackson that was thrown in at the end because it didn't meet the minimum time requirement. And it doesn't matter because the skater is doing Swan Lake choreography - the part where the swan dies. (You're praying for the next CD to be a well recorded version of "Pirates of the Caribbean," "Les Mis," or "Zorro" so you can break out your Kazoo and join in.)

Am I exaggerating? You be the judge. No, seriously - you be the judge who sits in a cold rink as a volunteer for hours and days on end listening (or trying to listen) to poorly edited, badly recorded and mixed CD's that are trying to pass for music while a skater on the ice is doing his or her level best to compete and interpret to scratches, skips and the worst thing of all for a new competitor - the sound of silence when the music fails and they are left with only the scraping of their blades. It is heart wrenching and it is totally unnecessary. Music is an integral part of skating. It is as important as boots, blades, costumes and the fortune that has been paid in coaching and competition fees. It is the foundation on which our sport is built. If it doesn't work; if it doesn't sound right and if you don't have clean, good and protected backup CDs in the hands of your coach for the time that things do go wrong (and, believe me, they will!), there is no one to blame but yourself, and no one who is more hurt than your skater.

Better just head for the hills. At least they have a 50/50 chance of being alive with the sound of (well recorded) music.

Encouraging the Heart

2011-07-11T19:45:00.001-06:00

Sometimes, caring is quiet. It doesn't shout; it just moves along embracing causes and gathering support as it goes. It is born from great love - and many times from great loss - but in the end, the strength of its will, the size and depth of its commitment, can change the course of so many lives.

So it is with a good friend of mine.

The first time I remember meeting Nicholas (Nick) LaRoche was at a competition in Pennsylvania. He was probably 11 or 12 at the time. Over the years, I watched Nick become a wonderfully talented skater. I saw him win the National Junior Men's title in 2002. I saw his last skate - his short program at the 2009 U.S. National Championships. He never skated the long. I cried.

Nick and his sister Tricia's story is well chronicled so I will not retell it here. What I will say is that they chose to come out the far side of great personal tragedy to do great good. If people are meant to have a purpose in life, this is theirs.

If you haven't heard of the US Athletic Foundation, it wouldn't surprise me at all. As I said before, sometimes caring is quiet. But what these two extraordinary people have chosen to do with their commitment and their lives has affected many others who have worked hard to succeed but who have also found the wall of training and competing expenses nearly insurmountable. For the past few years, quietly and without great fanfare, this extraordinary brother and sister team has reached out to help. They have made a difference, not to bolster their personal egos but to be a supporting wrung on a ladder to success for athletes in need.

Several months ago, again quietly and without great fanfare, Nick and Tricia started approaching some of Nick's skater friends to assist them in raising money for their Foundation supporting athletes in all sports. Phone calls, emails, Facebook requests all garnered response for what is being billed as "An Evening on Ice." A simple name to remember, but a show with a purpose and one that will be hard to forget. Nick's friends, some of whom have received support from the US Athletic Foundation, began coming on board. World medalists, Olympic team members, International champions, US National Champions, Grand Prix Champions. By the time the list was complete, it was clear that this was anything but a Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney "Let's do a show" show. This was an outpouring of love and a show of support for two remarkable people whose only purpose is to make a difference.

Sometimes caring is quiet. But sometimes it needs a clarion voice. That's why I'm writing this blog. I want you to know about Nick and Tricia. I want you to know about their Foundation and about this remarkable show with extraordinary talent. If you are in or around the Burbank area, do yourself a favor: Buy a ticket (or two, three or more) to "An Evening on Ice" at the Pickwick Ice Center August 12, at 7:30PM. Be embraced by the positive power of love and support, and the dream of two people who want nothing more than to help other athletes succeed by giving them what they need most - a helping hand.

Click to view video on YouTube

Poetic Justice

2011-06-29T07:16:00.003-06:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.....

(Why this poem by Robert Frost? If you are a skater or a skating parent; if you are an artist, dancer, writer - or anyone who is "different" - the answer is obvious. At some point, we have all met our personal "fork in the road," and we took a deep breath and made a decision to chart our own course without the assistance of Mapquest or Google Earth, many times counting on a whim or a feeling without much solid information or advice. We looked as far as we could one way, and then the other, but we chose to venture forth, even if our destination was not clearly in sight. We took a "leap of faith" knowing that our course would be analyzed, criticized and categorized by those who are comfortable in safe places. But we saw something different. We stepped into the unknown hoping that, even if the destination was not what we anticipated, we would make the best of our situation, be comfortable with our journey and ultimately make it "home," so in years to come...)
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

What's Important in Life

2011-06-21T18:46:00.003-06:00

This is just a short stop with a huge message. Be so very grateful for what you have, no matter what you have.

I am honored to be working with the family from Extreme Makeover Home Edition right now. It has made me stop and think about life and how things change so quickly. As the parent of two athletes, I can't imagine what Dawn and Steve Keefer are going through. But I can tell you that Mom and Dad, the brothers, and particularly Brian, are an inspiration.

As you head into this season; as you get frustrated with your skaters,remember what is really important in life. It's not the competitions; it's not the medals; it's not the immediate gratifications. It is all about family. It is all about caring. I have never met a a group of people so dedicated to a cause, or as completely positive in attitude, as the Keefers. Look at their story.Watch the season premiere of EMHE in September. Then tell me who is disabled - Brian or all of us who put our focus on superficial things instead of what really matters - family.

Excess Baggage

2011-06-12T21:43:00.002-06:00

While some of us are doing limbo on line waiting for the international assignments to be posted so we can plan our lives in 2012 accordingly, many of you are already headlong into the season.

I've been talking with a number of friends who are frantically making plane and hotel reservations, filling out competition forms, calculating budgets and searching the web for the nearest Starbucks. It is summer competition time. The popcorn in that bag you call your brain is about to explode. Just pray that, salted and buttered, it will sustain you through the "Dog Days."

I actually do remember (some) of those days fondly. Racing off Hither Tither and Yon was routine. Let me see...

Vail, Denver, Colorado Springs (pre move), Ft. Collins; TX, NJ, NV, PA, CA, WA and WXYZ.
Bags that logged enough miles for an upgrade to first class, and in those days were the only things that didn't have an additional cost attached.
Printing comp forms ("You're entered in THAT many events? Really?)
Filing, faxing and mailing on (or rarely) before deadline (dinosaur days).
Making "dubs" of cassettes pre CD ("What's the name of your music?").
Coach flights.
Coach fights.
Sagging, schlepping, dragging, dropping.
Practice ice? Check. And more checks for just about everything else imaginable.
Frozen bleachers. Frozen butts.

Hot times in ice houses literally coast to coast. Ah, the good old days of non-qual competitions. How I miss them.

The strange thing is I actually do miss them. In a twisted and slightly demented way, I miss the long hours, cold seats, hot soup, hot chocolate, stale bagels and the somewhat organized chaos of hundreds of little skaters, parents, officials and coaches crammed into rink lobbies. I pine for the lost bags left in hotel rooms, misplaced costumes, chewed up practice gloves and t-shirts that clearly stated the "Mood Du Jour." I miss the cheers and tears of the "Good Old Days" because now all we are doing is waiting to exhale as we poise ourselves, once again, on the precipice of a new season and await our marching orders.

When our fate has been decided, we will pack our bags and start the journey all over again, but without almost all of the above-listed bullet points.

Age does have its privileges, but the beat goes on.

Listen Up..A Word of Thanks to The Skating Blogosphere

2011-05-26T07:39:00.001-06:00

This is the toughest part of the year. At the elite level of skating, there isn't a lot of real news. Vacation is over and it's time to get back to work. Time for new programs, time to start working on honing skills in jumps, spins and footwork. Time for new boots and blades to get fitted and comfortable on the ice.

It also seems to be time for speculation, information, and to a degree, disinformation. The prognosticators and pundits are there - just under the surface - eyes glued to computers, looking to seize any shred of communication, be it post or tweet, so they can run with it .

I don't find that to be a negative, by the way. It shows a love of the sport and keeps interest high. After all, we'll be half way to Sochi this season.

So, thanks to all who care about skating and share their feelings through blogs, tweets and posts. We may not always agree with you, but we applaud your passion and your loyalty to the sport! We can't wait to read what you have to say - once there is actually something to talk about.

Special Delivery..

2011-05-18T21:51:00.003-06:00

I don't know about you, but I think it's time to start talking about how to..

I continue to be astounded at the lack of musical acumen and choreographic creativity there is in our world of skating. I understand that the little ones need to use music they know, thusly lots and lots (and lots...) of Disney is "de riguer." Okay, I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.

But when skaters at the national and international levels continue to use pieces to DEATH, what's the point? Is anyone really going to do "Bolero" better than T&D? I don't even want to listen to "Les Miz" anymore. Actually, I can't listen to it now without thinking of way-too-many skates that should have died on the battle line. "Gypsy" for elementary school skaters? Has anyone seen the show? Let's scuttle "Pirates of the Caribbean" since no one (in my humble opinion) can match Braden Overett's 2007 self-choreographed and award-winning program. And run a sabre through the heart of Zorro! Nessun Dorma, again? Really? And can we put Tango de Roxanne out of its misery, please? More consumption than La Traviata and there is only so much we can swallow.

I suppose most coaches, skaters, parents and choreographers cling to the thought that just maybe they will create the definitive masterpiece - the one that will be remembered above all others. Emulated but never duplicated.

Or just maybe it is an easy way out.

While some decry the new system, saying that it doesn't allow for creativity, to an extent I disagree. The system can open the door to innovation if - and only if - one is brave and innovative enough to risk crossing the threshold. Look at some of the best programs of 2011. Look at the ones that took your breath away, not just for the flashy footwork or the endless string of triples and quads, but because a choreographer and a skater took a risk. They pushed the envelope.

I know. You are thinking, "Well, it's easy for you to say. Look at your skater."

Okay, that's fair. But think back on the others who dug deep and produced magic. Here is a short list of some of my standout favorites this season (and there are more):

Shawn Sawyer
Alissa Czisny
Adam Rippon
Daisuke Takahashi
Takahiko Kazuka
Alena Leonova
Just about all of the top ice dancers

(wish I could say the same for pairs, though there was some outstanding skating!)

These skaters not only addressed the envelope, they included a love letter inside. They took the system, added exciting music choices and worked it. Sometimes, the programs were technically flawed, but they almost always had their elements of magic. Were there exciting programs to over-used music? Absolutely. No one can argue that Patrick's Canadian Nationals will go down in history as highlights. But they are the exceptions. Two true gems in a mire of musical mediocrity.

So, what's my point? It is simply this:

Listen to music - all kinds of music.

Watch dance - all kinds and styles of dance.

Take a risk.

Be the letter carrier that truly says,"Neither snow nor rain nor heat (nor ICE) nor gloom of night stays me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds (around the arena)."

In other words - Deliver.

Please deliver. Fans will gladly pay the freight if you push the envelope.

Some Thoughts on Being a Skating Mom This Mothers Day

2011-05-07T08:25:00.003-06:00

Mothers Day is upon us. Actually, for those of us fortunate to be mothers, every day is mother's day; we just don't receive hazard pay or bonuses the other 364 days of the year.

And for those of us who are - or have been - skating moms, here are a couple of thoughts on what our children should be celebrating tomorrow as they (hopefully) make a passing nod of recognition to us while running out the door:

Over our skating lifetimes as moms we will have lifted, toted, carried and hauled more than 2,000 pounds of bags, skates, costumes, suitcases.
We will have walked more than 200+ miles around the rink and another 100+ miles through airports
If our skater continues to senior or elite levels, we will have sat on metal bleachers freezing our backsides off nearly 1/3 of our lives
We will have consumed enough Starbucks to support an entire village in some coffee growing nation
We will have purchased and used enough hairspray and styling gel on our skaters (yes, this applies to the boys, too) to supply nearly every salon in the country.
We will have purchased enough plane tickets and booked enough hotel rooms to receive our ASTA certifications (that's American Society of Travel Agents for those of you not in the travel or hotel business)
We will have kissed away enough tears from defeats to flood a lake
We will have rejoiced enough times to rival the Royal Wedding

We will have been:

Doctor
Nurse
Psychologist
Business manager
Friend (most of the time)
Adversary (too many times)
Administrator, Advisor and Accountant

We will have "coached" too many times when we shouldn't.
But we are cheerleaders for life.

So, as you patiently wait to hear "Happy Mothers Day" from your kids, smile a little inside. That's the gift you give yourself every time you look into your child's eyes while that little voice inside your head says, "What the HECK was I thinking when you got involved in this sport??"

Honestly, you know the answer.

The World Is Coming To an End - Period.

2011-04-25T22:31:00.000-06:00

The end of the skating season finally commenced today with preliminary rounds at Worlds. Hooray.

Personally, I'm truly happy that our friends get a chance to skate. I'm happy that Russia stepped up to make it happen. I'm happy that the Japanese Team will honor their country and do their part to help begin the process of emotionally rebuilding. Everyone needs heroes.

But most of all, I am ecstatic that a period is about to be placed at the end of this oh-so-long, clause and conjunction-ridden sentence that began in the fall of 2010.

Everyone is tired. Bloggers' paragraphs end in trailing participles. Interviews are taken from sound bites fraught with incomplete phrases. The last chapter should have been written nearly 8 weeks ago; instead, an epilogue of less than epic proportions is being tacked on to a cataclysmic novel that no one could have scripted, or even believed, back in October 2010.

Would I feel differently were our circumstances different? Of course. But no matter how I feel, it doesn't change the reality.

So, let's cheer on all the skaters competing in Moscow. Lets hope they skate their best performances of the season so we can close the books on Volume I of "Sochi: 2014" and move on to the outline of Volume II. Here's to the promise that comes with an exciting new prologue - and here's to hoping for a better scripted, and much more satisfying, denouement.

Paying It Forward

2011-04-10T15:04:00.001-06:00

"The world can seem like an unfriendly, threatening place, yet we all want safety, health, and happiness for ourselves and our loved ones. How can one ordinary person -- you or me -- make a positive difference in this world? One way is the practice 'paying it forward.' While the steps might be simple, the outcome could change the world."

Just when I start wondering if people care about what's happening outside of their own day-to-day lives, I am surprised. Such was the case this past week when some people I didn't really know stepped up and showed their support for things that meant a lot to them. In their own way, they took a small step to make a difference and in doing so they made a giant leap to change lives.
   The first event took place quickly. Senior competitor Sean Rabbitt was so moved by the events on 3/11 in Japan that he organized and pulled off a fantastic Tsunami Relief fundraising skating event in Ontario, California called "Skaters Care." With the help of his family and the support of the Glacier Falls FSC, American Airlines, the Citizens Bank Arena, Holiday Inn and a group of skating friends, Sean pulled together a great show with top skaters. No advertising other than social media (Twitter and Facebook). Nothing but an overwhelming desire to DO something. This red-headed, freckle-faced young man who speaks Japanese brought in some impressive "firepower" on the ice. Approximately 1,000 people, who were dwarfed in the very large arena that will house Skate America this season, were treated to a wonderful show choreographed by Karen Kwan Oppegard. There was a synchro team; there were Olympic and world champion speed skaters; there were competitive skaters of all levels who put their hearts into the cause. It was impressive. So far, "Skaters Care" has raised more than $15,000 and money is still coming in. Donations will go through AA's American Giving non-profit and be given the the Red Cross.
Next was Figure Skating in Harlem's "Skating with the Stars" benefit in New York City. Started by former competitive skater Sharon Cohen, the program has impacted hundreds of inner city girls ages 6-18, providing them with vital educational and skating opportunities that build self-worth and promote physical well being and academic achievement.
"Proud Nation" is a skating show in Hartford, Connecticut of almost epic visual proportions. The brainchild of Olympic ice dancers Melissa Gregory and Denis Petukhov through their "Olympic Fever on Ice" program, the show raises money to support academics and athletics for kids who need help. Incorporating Cirque du Soleil, Moscow Circus and live music, the show stretches the limits of imagination and shows what is possible when creativity meets education.
Finally, there was a show in West Orange, New Jersey this week. "One Step Closer" was promoted by another skater, Tim David. In its second season, this event brought together some great competitors, all to benefit the AIDS Resource Foundation for Children. Again driven by social media and some advertising, this program featured competitive skaters of all levels, along with performers and Olympic guest skaters, all in support of a very important cause.
   So, as I said: Just when I start wondering if people care about what's happening outside of their own day-to-day lives, I am surprised - and thrilled that within our skating community there are athletes who are truly "paying it forward" by donating their time and talents, not because it brings them into the celebrity spotlight but because they found a cause that touched them. They owned it and decided they could make a difference.
   It's amazing how so much love and so much ice can melt the heart.

Life in 140 Characters

2011-03-26T22:24:00.002-06:00

I'm not sure how I feel about Twitter. I was a reluctant participant. I am over media'd as it is. I also know that keeping a PR person to 140 characters is nearly impossible, especially an "Old School" one who has spent a lifetime paring down two page releases into one page by playing with font size and margins. This number - this 140 -loomed large. The thought of it was akin to cramming a size 12 into a size 2. I just knew it wasn't a good fit, and it certainly held the potential of looking downright ugly.

Over the past few weeks, however, tweets have been a crucial part of my life. I've checked in with friends across the globe, followed Breaking News, CNN, ASHAI (Ashai Japan Watch) Shimbun and BBC. And in the midst of this I've kept up with my not-so-little corner of the skating world. I've had my life on RSS feed and my fingers on my iPhone keypad. It has been enlightening, frightening and altogether too sedentary. It has been a life of communication in 140 characters with tinyURL links to a larger world. In many ways, it has been the 2011 version of the Simon and Garfunkel song "Sounds of Silence."

So, here is my 140-character resolution:
i need 2 get a life & stop spending a lifetime on meaningless tweets. I need 2 stop living with #hashmarks and @ signs. I need communication

We'll see how long that lasts. Probably about 140 seconds.

But if the phone rings and my number pops up on the screen, would you be so kind as to answer? I'm craving the sound of a human voice, and a conversation with just one character on the other end of the line.

Thank you for your understanding.

A (Not So) Short Stop: What I've Learned This Week

2011-03-18T21:44:00.004-06:00

It is one week since Nature unleashed her awesome power across Japan proving that she can, indeed, be a "Mother." It is one week since I realized how insignificant we are in the universe, but how important we are to those we love and to those we barely know but have grown to love.

So this is a Short Stop in a long week, and here's what I've learned:
* I've leaned that Nature may be powerful, but nothing is stronger than the human spirit.
* I've learned that being helpless is different than being hopeless. Helpless can be temporary once you find direction.
* I've learned that there are no strangers if you open your eyes and your heart.
* I've learned that taking action is the only thing to do. Doing nothing is unacceptable.
* I've learned that Google Translator is my best friend, as long as I do a reverse translation to make sure what I said is (somewhat) correct. Communication is everything.
* I've learned how important my social networks are, but how much more important the people who are on the other end of my networks are to me.
* I've learned that my solitary significance seems small in the face of what has happened, but the small steps I've taken are part of a larger footprint of caring.
* I've learned that life is fragile; people are like match sticks. All I can do is try to help create light while not getting burned out myself.

Finally, I've learned that hope is a four-letter word that cannot be stricken from any language. We must use it freely and with abandon as we also freely use another four-letter word: HELP.

I guess I've known these things all along. What I've learned this week is how knowledge is truly power when it is put into action. Be smart. Act now. Help when and where you can and with whatever resources you have available, even if it is simply to reach out and let people know you care.

http://www.globalgiving.org/

What's Important in This World

2011-03-13T10:14:00.004-06:00

The events of the past few days have had me seriously thinking about what in life is important.

I am a very "wired" person for someone of my age. I check my email before I am even fully awake in the morning. On Friday, I did what I normally do. What met me in my inbox was way beyond comprehension. The email was from a great friend and now member of our family. The headline of her email jolted me. "HUGE QUAKE!" I quickly grabbed my reading glasses:

"Just to let you know that I’m all right, although I’ve been walking through one gazillion books and video tapes scattered over the floors at my place. It was the biggest earthquake in the country’s history and the eastern-northern half of the archipelago is totally paralyzed with all the railroads, highways and airports closed…Scary. :(((("

I went to the computer, checked breaking news, read about the horror of the quake and the tsunami. I looked in disbelief at the images. I immediately opened Facebook and Twitter looking for posts from everyone. The young woman who heads our skater's fan club had already posted on her personal page that she and her family were okay but they had no power or water. She was messaging from her phone. I heard from our photographer friend in Tokyo; our cartoonist friend, and finally from a friend/fan who lives on one of the northern islands. I went to the fan page, opened Google Translator, and asked fans to let us know if they were okay. Responses started coming in almost immediately. I went to my Twitter and also asked to hear from people. I had to take some posts in Japanese and paste them into Google Translate to understand the responses, and to follow what was being said as these friends whom I had never met dealt with their fears and the terror that was gripping their lives. I found BBC live TV coverage on line and began watching as images of a city my husband and my son had visited in 2007 for NHK was being decimated by the awesome power of nature. For all intents and purposes, Sendai was gone. The devastation we were witnessing half way around the world left us feeling totally helpless in the face of Nature's power.

This weekend of horror and frustration, and incredible sadness, has put some things into perspective. We can't prevent or truly prepare for the powers that boil under the surface of the earth. All we can do is care for the people who are suffering. What's important in this life right now is not a skating competition; it is the race to survive. What's important is how we can help, even half a world away. Many organizations are stepping up assistance to Japan. Here are some ways you can get involved and help people:

• Convoy of Hope's Disaster Response team is in contact with partners in Japan and identifying areas in the greatest need of assistance. You can donate online at convoyofhope.org or text TSUNAMI to 50555 to donate $10 toward the relief efforts.

• AmeriCares is asking for donations so they can provide medicine and medical supplies to victims of the disaster.

• Global Giving has set up a relief fund where you can make a donation, which will be distributed to relief and emergency services in the affected region.

• Direct Relief International is reaching out to medical teams and emergency responders to offer assistance.

• Save the Children is mobilizing a response to the disaster in Japan with a focus on helping the youngest victims.

• International Medical Corps is sending medical supplies and relief teams to Japan. Help by donating $10 by texting MED to 80888.

• Make a $10 donation to the American Red Cross by text messaging REDCROSS to 90999 or visit redcross.org to donate online.

The one thing we cannot afford to do is nothing. Give what you can. Stay informed. Ultimately, Nature is in control. All we can do is control our caring and how we react to what has happened. If you can't afford to give, at least give of yourself by volunteering. That's all that is really important.

Living Social

2011-03-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

I have two biological children. I have a stepson and a daughter-in-law; I have a granddaughter. I have nearly countless cousins, nieces and nephews by marriage - and former marriages. As an only child of an only child of an only child on my mother's side, by nearly any one's count this is a lot of kids.

Sure, I've always loved children; I was even brave enough in my young adulthood to teach 7th and 8th grade (and there is a window seat in Heaven for all Middle School teachers. I reserved mine a long, long time ago). What I didn't anticipate was how many children I would end up "adopting" over my years as a skating mom.

For those of you just starting on this frozen journey, let me share my words of wisdom: Embrace your skater's friends, and (most) of their competitors because what happens as years go by is these "children" become as much yours as they are their parents. The biggest difference is you get the benefits and you don't pay the bills - unless you count shared hotel rooms, chauffeuring and paying for more than occasional meals at competitions. You get to watch these kids grow up; you share in their victories and the agonies of their defeats. You get to give hugs and kisses, peanut butter sandwiches, fruit juice,ice packs, bandages, water and Kleenex. Occasionally, you have to give them the kick in the butt that their moms can't because, after all, they don't listen to their real moms; for some reason they listen to you. You get to acquire a collection lost socks, gloves, music, skates and rolling bags. Most of all, over the years you stay in this sport, you collect memories and acquire more family.

As I was looking at my relatively-small-by-comparison-to-my-kids Facebook Friends list, I realized how many of those little thumbnail snapshots belong to skaters whom I've known since they were seven or eight years old. I have friends who are coaches and judges; several of them I've known since they were skaters, too. We have either kept in touch over the years by catching up at various competitions, or we have recently reconnected through the power of this sometimes frustrating but incredibly encompassing social network. But no matter how we find ourselves connected these days, our network began long before Facebook. It started face to face in an ice rink. Those shared experiences over the years have made us a fraternity of family that is somewhat difficult to define, but for most of us is easy to understand.

Today, I received four text messages on my phone while I was at work. Two were from my biological children; two were from my adopted skating family. All four were unsolicited and random but filled with love; all four were more appreciated than they could ever know.

So, why am I telling you all this? First of all, it's my blog. But more importantly, it's because no matter what we think we've put into this sport of skating, if we open ourselves to the "who" and not the "what" of it, ultimately we get back so much more than we give. I wouldn't trade that for anything.

A Half Glaced Season..

2011-02-25T19:00:00.000-07:00

It is nearly the end of February. It has been a year and a week since Vancouver. It has been five months since the start of what one could classify as an "interesting" skating season.

This year, we've attended fewer competitions and shows. We have watched on YouTube. We have stalked user groups and Facebook pages to find the best, free web connections so we could wake at the "B" Crack of Dawn in order to catch live broadcasts of overseas events.

We did attend the US National Championships in Greensboro, North Carolina. Great rink. Wonderful people. Terrific barbecue.

Now, we find ourselves with two months left and with the uncomfortable uncertainty we've experienced before when our skater has been "on the bubble." He has to continue to train. We have to continue to wait. We know there is one more trip that will most likely happen. It wasn't the trip we hoped for, but it's a trip nonetheless.

So, let's lift a Glace to 2011. The season is almost over. Soon, we can all regroup and take a deep breath as we escape from this year's expectations and look forward to 2012 with fresh ice. After all, 2011 is just about on the rocks.

The moral of this story: No use crying over spilt milk.

And for those of you who think I can't spell (which only happens on Facebook before 6AM when I have no business being near a keyboard, let alone an on line dictionary), "Glace" in French means "Ice."

Straight from the Heart on Valentines..

2011-02-12T11:50:00.004-07:00

I've always loved skating. I started skating about the time I started walking. No, I never competed. I took tons of lessons over the years, though. I did figures and actually loved them. I was a rink guard in high school, helped teach Basic Skills and participated in shows at my old hometown club. Mostly, I just loved to skate.

However, loving to skate and truly understanding the depth and commitment of that love are two different things.

During the National Championships in Greensboro, we were fortunate to attend a Hall of Fame reunion of family members from the 1961 U.S. Team that perished in a plane crash on February 15 while on their way to the World Championships in Prague. Many had not met before. Many had not spoken about their solitary yet shared experience since the day that changed skating's landscape, and forever changed their lives. Now, in an overflowing room of officials, friends and fans, these families accepted special recognitions and publicly faced a lifetime of private emotions.

It was not a simple task to move about the room that night. There were friends to greet, so many things to talk about, so many of my own emotions to control just minutes before the start of the Championship Men's short program. But listening to the words of the presenters; listening to the simple but heartfelt speeches of the family members who accepted the lovely silver commemorative bowls, I was struck by one overwhelming emotion: Love. Everyone in that room was there because of it. Love of friends; love of family; love of a sport that brought them together not just to remember tragedy, but to celebrate personal and public triumph. It was deeply moving and soul satisfying. It reminded me why I love this sport, and why I will continue to love it long after our skater completes his competitive career and moves on to make his own hopefully indelible tracings in years to come.

In this series of endless Kodak moments, nothing was more impactful than watching the face of a lovely older lady while she talked in animated fashion to Peggy Fleming Jenkins during the Hall of Fame event. This beautiful woman was the sister of one of the Team USA members on that fateful 1961 flight. She wore a button with her brother's picture, his smile frozen in time from 50 years ago. There was so much joy in her voice as she thumbed the pages of a scrapbook she had brought to the event. While it broke my heart that his life, and the lives of all those who were on the plane February 15, 1961, were never fulfilled, I was overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure it obviously gave her to share her memories with someone who knew, and who understood.

As I circulated around the room listening to the conversations - seeing the smiles and hearing the laughter as remembrances were recounted and people reconnected - I came to realize that I was witnessing the heart and soul of skating. It's not just the spins and spirals, the scores, the competitions, the components, the travel or travails of our day-to-day in this sport. When all is said and done, it's this deep, abiding love that makes skating great. It is our history. It is our legacy. It is what everyone at every level of involvement should understand, and no one should ever forget.

Read more in Phil Hersh's great column in the Chicago Tribune
Read John Henderson's touching article in the Denver Post

Sticks and Stones

2011-02-06T12:33:00.001-07:00

It's a funny thing about sticks and stones. We learn from a very young age, "Sticks and Stones can break my bones, but words can never harm me. "
Really.
If that children's rhyme is true, then why do people feel they can fling words around and that it would make any difference at all? Maybe it's because we've given them the voice to do so. We've abdicated our own considerable power by allowing some self-appointed pundits of prose to define us.

So, this short blog is about taking back power. It is about understanding that sticks and stones, when used constructively, can build the foundation of an enduring home where everyone is welcome, supported, loved and appreciated for who they are and the skills they have. It is about creating a fortress of friendships. It is about believing that only you can truly define who you are. The rest only matters if you allow it to do so. As Shakespeare's Macbeth said:

All our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

And if you need someone to fix that window in your glass house, just give me a call. Oh, and you don't have to worry; I've got your number.

Obla Di - Obla Da..

2011-02-05T13:06:00.003-07:00

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da Life goes on, bra La la how the life goes on Ob-la-di, ob-la-da Life goes on, bra La la how the life goes on

I had an epiphany of sorts this morning: I have only been to one competition this year. That is very odd. I've been to four or five shows, but only one actual competition. What a change.

Years ago, I used to go to lots of competitions. My "normal" could be up to eight or nine within a 12 month period. Most were in our home state, but they still required a weekend stay in a hotel or at an understanding friend's home.

As time passed, competitions went out of state and so did I. There were still the tried-and-true local events, but now we were booking flights, fighting airports, renting cars, trying to negotiate maps (pre-GPS), locating the nearest Starbucks, finding the closest mall, looking for the best hotel rates and still spending most of our time in rinks - though in those days we did more sightseeing. We regularly did a pilgrimage to Texas, California, Pennsylvania and Illinois. Qualifying competitions took us all the way from North Dakota to Georgia, Oregon, Washington and Alabama. The stays went from three nights to seven or more.

When the competitions went international, the trips became virtually non-existent. Denmark was the last one for all of us as a family. My husband went to Japan and to Italy (we all know what happened to him there, but if not read my blog "Strangers in the Night"). Thanks to some wonderful people, our skater included, I was able to visit Seoul two times. But those were for shows; not for competition.

Today, when international competition is on and our skater is involved, I find myself as I am now - sitting in my bathrobe in front of a computer screen, cup of coffee in hand, trying to stay awake. Taipei watch out! I have an alarm clock and I KNOW how to use it!

No matter how much things stay the same, they change..

And if you want some fun take Ob-la-di-bla-da

Instructions on Using Your PC

2011-02-02T07:38:00.003-07:00

Or How to Stay PC When You Want to Mac Something

I have never owned a Mac. From the time I learned how to work a computer, I have always been PC. Occasionally, I think it would be fun to be free, to try new things, to explore a brave new world of communication.

Perhaps someday.

Right now, I still have a lot to learn about my PC. Occasionally, I think I can just step outside its boundaries; "color outside the lines." Apparently, being PC doesn't allow for that kind of creative freedom. No matter how much I may dream of it, I think it will be awhile before that can happen. No matter how much I may want to be Mac, there is still a lot to learn about being PC.

Since I returned home, I've been looking for my PC instruction book. If you happen to find it, will you scan the page on how to turn it on? Thank you.

On The Road to Greensboro: The Old Grey "Mere"

2011-01-24T22:38:00.002-07:00

I am starting to pack for Greensboro. I leave in two days. I have also been working hard to make some changes, many of which have gone mostly unnoticed.

I have fought to lose some weight - eight pounds in the past month, which is not a lot considering what I have to lose, but it is a start.
I started back at the gym and I have been watching what I eat before I put it in my mouth.

I have been undergoing a series of facials to make me look more like Julia Roberts and less like Julia Child. The jury is out on the success of that. At least I don't look like a SharPae (not that I ever did, but it makes for a great visual).
I cut my hair short.
I have (some) new clothes, though I really, really hate to shop (truly!).
Not by choice, I have new glasses since my old ones were put to rest on the tennis court last summer by a stray smash that flew from my daughter's racquet into my face, giving me one of - yes - TWO black eyes I've had in the past six months.

I have been "in training," as it were. Under the old system, it would be a 6.0 for presentation and somewhat less for technical. The point is, I've tried.

So, tonight on Facebook I posted that I am getting a mini trampoline as a gift I chose for spending the last 10+ years working in communications for a place I really love. I said that I wasn't sure if I could jump on the trampoline while typing on the computer, doing Facebook and being on Twitter. I chose that over a number of potential gifts because I am trying to make an effort to move in the right direction at my age.

Somewhere my comment was lost in translation because it was met with, "Ummmmm why did you get something that will go completely unused? The wine and spa would have at least gotten their moneys worth :P"

I love the support. It is what I live for. Thank you.

Defining Simple VS. Easy

2011-01-21T07:16:00.000-07:00

If you have followed me for awhile, you know that I don't rant (much). I try to use humor to thinly disguise my likes and very definite dislikes.

As the green flag drops and Nationals comes speeding around the first chicane on the racetrack of competition in Greensboro, I am amazed at how many people simply don't understand the physical and emotional complexities of this sport. I still wonder at all those who look at figure skating and say, "That's not a sport. It's simple. My two year old can do that. It's just glitter and sequins." Nothing fries my Tootsie Roll faster than hearing those words. There. I said it.

From the time a skater first decides to take those tentative glides, the word "simple" simply doesn't exist. Every new skill has to be mastered. Every part of physical, emotional and creative education is challenged. Simple becomes brushing your teeth; tying your shoe. "Simple" is a word in a Nursery rhyme. Skating is difficult.

Now, "Easy" is another concept altogether.

It takes years of difficult "simple" to produce the illusion of "easy." It takes training, conditioning; sometimes it takes injury and recovery. It takes athletic skill and a great understanding of the art and sport of skating to turn simple into easy.

As we head into Greensboro, please think about all those skaters who have worked so hard to simply succeed at their level of this sport. Each one who qualified through Regionals and Sectionals -each one skating to represent their club, their state or who have represented our country on the international stage - made it there not by simply deciding to skate, but by making a commitment to turn their dreams to reality.

It's that simple. It is anything but easy.

Applaud them all - friends and competitors alike. And while you watch each one strive to be the best they can be, before you criticise ask yourself, "Could I do that?" The simple answer is probably no.

Enjoy Nationals, everyone. Cheer for your favorites, but appreciate all the athletes for what they have gone through just to get there. Be quick to praise and slow to condemn. And if you can do it better, go for it. Sochi awaits.

Here We Go Again: My Top Ten for Greensboro

2011-01-18T19:00:00.003-07:00

I am sure that Greensboro is a lovely city. I will probably see about as much of it as I have seen of any city we've been to only once for Nationals. It is our reality. We rarely get to spend much time exploring because, after all, we are there to watch skating. However, I will get to know the following:

Where the closest Starbucks is to the rink
Whether or not I can bring our mascot Bobby into the arena or if I need to smuggle him in for the umpteenth time since, obviously, a hand puppet is a dangerous weapon and needs to be banned from the building
The location of the Riedell booth so I have a point of reference for meeting people and so I can visit with my friend Dan R who has taken such good care of us for years and years in this crazy sport
The location of all the restrooms in the immediate proximity of where I am sitting
The location of all the restrooms in the immediate proximity of where my friends are sitting
The location of the closest place to get usually over-priced food and a drink (of any variety from $3.00 bottled water to soft drinks on up TO something a bit more "adult" in nature)
The shortest route between our hotel and the host hotel where we can get our credentials and catch the shuttle to the arena so we don't have to pay a ton for parking our rental car
The shortest route away from my skater when he doesn't want to be seen with us
The shortest route to the ice to throw something since pigs may fly but they don't do well when I am the wind beneath their wings
The best and quietest place to hide when I need just a brief moment to myself (NOTE: that usually goes along with the location of the restrooms)

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I am sure Greensboro is a lovely city and they will roll out the Red Carpet for all our skaters. But my most sincere hope is that, like my absolute favorite skating city of Spokane, they host a major event again so we might actually be able to see it.

Short Stop on the Road To Greensboro: Time Has Come Today.

2011-01-12T07:22:00.003-07:00

I survived the 60s. I still love the music.

I woke up this morning thinking about the fact that we leave for the U.S. National Championships in 13 days and the only thing that started going through my head was the Chamber Brothers song "Time Has Come Today."

What is it about our life experiences that they seem to live in snippets of music lyrics? There are days when a song will get stuck in my head and I can't get rid of it. Someone told me to get it to stop you need to sing the lyrics to "America" from Westside Story. I tried that. Those lyrics then got stuck in what's left of my brain and a mental video of the dance number was on constant replay.

Shakespeare said, "If music be the food of love, play on." Given how many tunes are iPlaying through my gray matter these days, I must be particularly in love with stress eating.

Time Flies When...

2011-01-01T08:59:00.000-07:00

None of us will be around to see this one again. It is 1/1/11. The next time that date is penned will be 100 years from now. I don't know why I find that both exhilarating and sobering all at the same time. For me, this first day, this 1/1/11, is a realization that 2010 went by in the blink of an eye. In skating terms, 2010 was four revolutions in just under a second: Grand Prix, Nationals, Olympics, Worlds. They were so anticipated, so stressful, so joyful and sad. They were life-changing. They are gone.

I actually went back and read some of my blogs from 2009 and 2010 last night before drifting off to sleep sometime after realizing that Kathy Griffin and Anderson Cooper are the oddest couple on TV, though they make for great New Year's Eve entertainment whether you've been imbibing or are stone cold sober...or somewhere in between. Perusing my hyperbole, I found myself asking the question, "Whose life is this?" Certainly, I recognized some of what I wrote, like the blogs on scary skating parents, schlepping, sequins and sitting in the stands. After all, those things have made up a large part of my life, nearly a third of it, to be exact.

But it was rereading the blogs from Nationals and the ones from Vancouver that made me realize how surreal 2010 really was. I am actually struggling to find words to explain how that feels. I suppose the best description would be like living in a time warp. Knowing what I know now, I'd love to go back and experience it again while holding the advantage of hindsight. That doesn't mean that I would necessarily do anything differently; it just means that I would recognize the Black Hole before gleefully tripping over the edge.

Now it is 1/1/11. It is literally the dawn of a new day and the beginning of another year of sitting in the stands.
Sochi? Who knows.
What I do know is this: The only thing that is real is now. We can't live in the past; the future is not ours to predict. All we can do is grab our E ticket once again and go along for the ride.

If "Time Flies When You're Having Fun," then I guess I'm having a blast!

Happy New Year, my friends!

Short Stop - The Best Present of All

2010-12-22T23:00:00.001-07:00

It was something I wasn't expecting, though I'm not really sure why. There I was, sitting in my living room eating takeout Chinese and sharing casual conversation with my wonderful husband and two skaters. As we talked, time compressed. The conversation was between friends and family; it was like no time had passed. But a short lifetime had passed. I looked into the faces of these two people who are now adults. They shared stories and memories. We said a lot of, "Do you remember?"

As we stored the leftovers, I stopped to think about what makes this sport - and most sports - so very special. This is a fraternity of friends who have grown up as companions and competitors. They are a special family of brothers and sisters who spent their formative years learning about themselves and the world through competitive sport. Now, they have grown up and gone on. But when they congregate, when they gather from all points of the globe to share their life experiences, they are still family. Some are still skating, either competitively or in shows. Some are coaching; some have exchanged their blades for business degrees; a surprising number are in med school. Yet, when they find one another, whether it is for an hour or a day, they move easily back into the comfort of the home they all shared for so long; the comfort of shared experiences and lasting friendships.

Skating is about discipline. It teaches so much more than jumps and spins. It teaches about coping with the twists and turns of life, too. Skating teaches an understanding and acceptance of who you are, and who your friends are. Ultimately, skating is not exclusive; it is inclusive. If you are a new parent in the sport, please remember this. In the heat and passion of competition, know that the here-and-now is just that. What truly matters is what is ahead,as well as what has gone before. Those are the six walls of a perfect box that encompass the best present of all in this sport: Lasting friendships. That is a gift that is truly priceless.

A Holiday Love Letter

2010-12-13T21:56:00.002-07:00

It is that time of year when I've been trying to decide what to give friends and family for the holidays when - well - there isn't much monetarily but a wealth emotionally. This year, I decided that the best gift to everyone is to express myself to all of you in the form of a letter:

Dear (fill in the blank with your name here):
   I'm not going to lie; this has been a challenging time. It started a year ago last August and it's been nothing but a roller coaster ever since. We've had our ups and downs, but you've always been there for me. You've laughed with me and also shed a few tears. You've been my friend, my companion, my confidant. For that I am truly grateful.
Understanding that love means many things, writing this letter is both easy and extremely difficult. On the surface, I can be glib, funny (at times), sarcastic (most of the time) and serious - at least on occasion. Through it all, you've accepted me as I am. You've allowed me to vent, to cheer, to run the range of emotions that all embody this rather old but complex body and mind. You've let me share my times with you without too much judgment on your part. You've responded privately, and sometimes publicly, to what I've said. You've taken me into your confidence and trusted me to make what are hopefully educated and rational statements about life based on my experiences.
   Mostly, you have not judged me too harshly. I appreciate that. After all, I am no different than you, other than the fact that I may be farther down the path that you are now traveling. Like you, I am learning. That is what life - and love - is all about. "It is the journey, not the destination" that brings us together. We all know the final destination. That is the same for us all. It is the adventure, and how we choose to experience it, that is everything. It is our passion, our love, that moves us forward.
   So, thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for allowing me to be me. Thank you for listening, offering advice, asking questions; laughing, crying, occasionally snickering, but most of all for being my support system. I am nothing without you.
   May the holidays and the new year bring you nothing but joy - the same kind of joy you have brought me.
   I truly do love you all. Happy Holidays!

Ti's The Season..

2010-12-03T15:52:00.001-07:00

I was opening my mail today and marveling 1) at all the trees someone killed and the money they wasted sending me junk mail I neither want nor requested (and, yes, I am on the "no junk mail" list, for whatever good that does), and 2) wondering who buys the junk they put in the junk mail catalogs.

I was also puzzled by the number of incoming bills for December. They always loom larger than normal when so many other things are demanding my monetary attention - like presents, for instance.

I know I'm not alone in this wistful feeling of wanting to make my family Christmas tree look lively and not listless. After all, Ti's the season to be jingly in the pockets, right?

Yes, now comes the bubble bursting.

The longer you are in this sport, the more expensive it becomes. Even when your skater reaches a level of making prize money or doing shows, what it took to get him or her to that point is probably still tied up in two or three mortgages and years of high interest credit card bills. Of course, it didn't help that the economy tanked, too, leaving many two-family incomes with one - or none. The "Salad Days" of seemingly hundreds of gifts under the tree are gone.

So, I would like to make a "Modest Proposal" for some handmade gifts this holiday season:

Take all those old competition tee and sweatshirts out of the drawer. Cut them into squares and make a memory quilt.
Old, recycled costumes (after they've been cleaned) can make great pillow covers and lampshades.
Spray paint old Bunga Pads and put sequins on them to hang from the tree.
Make Origami birds and boxes out of old hotel bills from competition trips
Decoupage glass ornaments with copies of old podium photos and then add the competition and the year in gold foil sticky letters (if you can remember when and where it was)
Take old skating blades. Weld the heel plates to a circular pipe. Get a small, fake tree at the craft store and stick it in the base. Hang skating memorabilia from the tree and use old skate laces like garlanding (you can spray paint the laces gold or a color for a more festive look - add more sequins from old costumes, too!) You can even hang all those past non-qualifying medals from the tree as ornaments.

Finally, here's my favorite

Cut a rectangle of wood and bevel it lengthwise so it will hold a blade. Spray paint an old pair of boots with metalic gold or silver paint. Put a cheap plastic vase inside the boot. Fill the boot with holiday flowers or decorations and use it as a centerpiece on the table.

Holidays don't have to be expensive for us skating parents. We just have to be willing to be creative, take a little time and be good stewards of the environment by "repurposing" all those things we spent so much money on.

Unlike Jonathan Swift's Modest Proposal, however, I would hope that we are not all so impoverished that we would resort to his solution.

Now you must excuse me. Supper's ready..

Short Stop: What's Your Point..

2010-11-26T14:21:00.002-07:00

Tenths of points.

The one thing the IJS system does is take everything to the closest possible percentage, which can be both reassuring and nerve wracking at the same time. Whether you are relying on those 10ths to make it from Regionals to Sectionals and to Nationals, or whether those tiny increments mean a potential tie breaking score and a place in either the Grand Prix Finals or Worlds, the point-something-or-another can loom large. That decimal point can look like the black hole.

However, we have to put this in perspective right now. We have temporarily put down the calculators and let the pundits pontificate on the points. It's pointless for us to predict. Right now, it is the journey of discovery that's exciting. Decimal points are at the discretion of those who live in the Land of Point. After all, we cannot control the "whether."

In Harry Nilsson's 1971 classic animated film, the Rock Man says to Oblio, "You don't have to have a point to have a point."
My point exactly.

On The Day Before We Get The Bird..a Note of Thanks

2010-11-24T07:54:00.004-07:00

This will probably not be your traditional "I am so thankful for.." missive. Over the past year since I began this diary of a mad skating mother, I have been pretty clear, and on-goingly (if there is such a word) thankful for so many things in my life. If you have followed me down this path of self discovery, you know how important my family is to me. They know how important they are to me. One day of thanks is not enough to express it.

However, there have been so many things I've discovered to be thankful for in the time since I began sharing my life with you, I felt they should be acknowledged. Here are just a few.
I am oh-so grateful for:

Puppets
Lemonade
Clip Art and Google
I'm grateful for:
World Clocks
Map quest
Ice Net and You Tube

I'm grateful for:
New friends
New "Frans"
And all the experiences they have brought me that now enrich my life.

I'm grateful for:

iPhones
Apps
Facebook and Twitter
Google Translator
And anything that allows me to stay connected to all parts of my personal world.

I'm grateful for:

Coaches and mentors too numerous to name but all of whom were responsible for bringing me to you so I can share these adventures, and misadventures of a life frozen in time.

I'm grateful for:

Choreographers - not just the ones who create masterpieces on and off the ice, but the ones who have taught us how to carefully dance - and occasionally tiptoe - our way through each phase, each act. Occasionally, we miss a step, but oh what we have learned from those mistakes.

I am grateful for:

Pig hats
Pig pins
Almost anything porcine because it is a reminder of where we started, what has been accomplished and how much more there is to do.

But most of all I am truly grateful for all of you who have chosen to come along on this ride with me, to share your thoughts and lives through on and off line communications. I can't believe how many new friends I have brought into this Crazy Quilt of experiences I continue to build while living Life on the Edge. You've stuck with me, and I thank you for that.

So, on this day before our US holiday ritual of offering up a bird to the gods as thanks for the things we should be grateful for every second we breathe, I need to share two last and extremely important thanks with you: Thank you to the late, great Erma Bombeck, and to Duct Tape. Without them, I don't think I would have survived.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

WONDERFUL GUEST BLOG: Molly Sanders Clauss and "Annie"

2010-11-10T07:31:00.001-07:00

If you are new to my blog, you don't know about Bobby, Buffalo and Making Lemonade. Here are the links to the two original stories that have now created a legacy of learning and international understanding, while having a lot of fun along the way. Enjoy!

A Recipe for Making Lemonade

From Buffalo, with Love

“The world is smaller through children’s eyes.”

Most people our age would argue that statement. When we were children, the world looked immense. Our dad was the tallest person on earth. The sink was only accessible for tooth brushing if we stood on tiptoe on the well-worn wooden stool bearing our name. And, learning to cook meant pushing the kitchen chair over to the counter, so we could watch the vanilla being added to the aromatic butter cream frosting in the KitchenAid.
But for the children in my kindergarten classroom, the world is a tiny place, and the other side of our planet is only a puppet away.

   Last February, my school children at the Elmwood Franklin School, in Buffalo, NY, made lifelong friendships with two puppets, named Bobby and Annie. Bobby belonged to Allison Scott, mother of U.S. men’s champion and US Olympic team member, Jeremy Abbott. Bobby, (via Allison’s enthusiastic emailed letters and photos,) was our eyes and ears in Vancouver. The children learned much more about Vancouver and the competition than they would have ever absorbed by reading a book about it or watching the events on television. They got first-hand insight into the passion, the excitement, the “lemonade,” and the lessons inherent to competition.
   As a result of our friendship with Bobby and Allison, we were gifted a red-headed moppet by the Folkmanis Puppet Company. We named her Annie. Annie is Bobby’s sister, and she was also meant to travel the world, to teach us about far-away places, and to be an ambassador for cultural understanding.

   We styled her hair with ribbons in the colors of the Olympic flag, and sent her off on a friendship-making mission to Prague, in the Czech Republic, where the brother of one of our kindergarten children lived. We waited for weeks, and then months, to hear if she arrived safely in Prague, but that day never arrived. The children were devastated, and as their teacher, I blamed myself for not ponying up the big money to send her FedEx instead of through the regular postal mail. I was sure she was sitting in her damp box in the well of some oily ship, and would never to be found. The school year ended with a huge question mark: Where was Annie?
Imagine my delight, when I found her battered and crushed box in the mailroom at my school during the summer! I think I cheered out loud when I discovered that she had mysteriously found her way back to Buffalo; 4 months older, but intact!

   Annie was back on my shelf, but she could not fulfill her purpose from there. I was more determined than ever to create a situation where Annie could perform her missionary work.
   The rest of the summer was spent looking for a classroom overseas to connect with. I’ve never been conservative in my teaching. “Go Big or Go Home” is my motto for projects and teaching ambition. So when I was searching for a classroom that we could collaborate with this year, my first thoughts were of China.
   What small child hasn’t tried to dig to China? Isn’t it halfway around the world from us? Sending Annie to China would be a great way to learn about a country and a culture that had always fascinated me. Do I speak Chinese? No…. Did I know anyone currently in China? No! But I didn’t let those issues get in my way. I began my search through the many teacher websites that are designed to connect classrooms via the Internet. However, it quickly became clear to me that 90% of the teachers searching for connections were USA teachers. I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that way.
    I changed my strategy. I searched for a school as though I was a parent moving my family to China. I read and researched, and finally found a delightful situation. The Hong Kong Ling Liang Church School is located in Causeway Bay in Hong Kong. The teachers speak English and Cantonese, and the principal of the school was intrigued with my ideas. She put me in touch with the classroom teachers in one of their kindergarten rooms, and we both agreed immediately on the limitless positive possibilities of the collaboration.
   Our first communication was a video conference between the children! Because of the 12-hour time difference between our locations, my school children came to school on a Thursday night at 7:30pm, in their pajamas! The children in Hong Kong were just arriving at school, at 7:30am, the next morning. It was a magical experience. With their teachers as translators, the children asked questions of each other, as only children can. “Do you like pizza?” “How do you get to school?” “What sports do you play?” Everyone giggled and laughed. We sang our school songs to each other, and we were sad to have to say goodbye at the end.

   The next week, the children prepared Annie for her trip to Hong Kong. We took photos with her, kissed her goodbye, and again, crossed our collective fingers, as the box was taped shut and she left our school in the arms of the postman.

However, Annie was born to be an ambassador, and this time, she arrived in Hong Kong safe and well.

Annie is a born teacher, breaking the language barriers between the children, and uniting us in the way that only childlike imagination can. She travels home with the Ling Liang children, and the children document the experience through photographs. So far, Annie has gone to the harbor at Causeway Bay, she rode on a 100-year old tram, and she has dined on dim sum. She marched in a Chinese Halloween parade, she watched cartoons on Chinese television, and she went to a Chair Race and a Chinese Bazaar. The children in my class are fascinated with these photographs. What makes them so intriguing? Our friend Annie is in every one!

Next up: a pen pal project between the children! Also, Ling Liang is sending us stuffed animal teddy bears that we can take on adventures and photograph places for them! Our school children are excited to show the children in Hong Kong what our area of the country is like.
So, China may be on the other side of the world, and most of us will never get there to visit. But if you ask my kindergarteners what the region is like, they can tell you! Because we have our very own red-headed ambassador to show us around!

Hong Kong is only a puppet away!

When The Going Gets Tough..

2010-11-07T13:07:00.003-07:00

If you are of a "certain age," you may remember Josephine the Plumber. I'm kind of like that - always have been. While I certainly know that I am not in control, I have always been a fixer, of sorts. I am not talking about the DIY type of fixer, but I've been the one in the family who has tried to make things right. At times, possessing that trait was - and is - a good thing; other times it most definitely is not. Sometimes, it is better to leave well enough alone and let others figure it out for themselves, no matter how much I want to reach into my bag and throw a wrench at the problem.

For the past month, I have been fighting my urge to "fix" something that is not mine to repair. There are many experts working on this situation, but as most fixers do, I have wanted to be involved. After all, I've been Josephine for 20 years. I have the tools, right?

That made me think about my daughter. She is a remarkable person. She is the Macgyver of the family.She can fix a car, build furniture, repair plumbing; she can do it all. While I may be the fixer of many things personal or emotional within our family, my daughter is the more pragmatic fixer of things physical. It seems that some of her practicality has rubbed off on her brother, as I noticed when watching an interview he did on TV this weekend while doing a show. The video cut from his talking to skating in rehearsal. There, in full sight, was the problem staring me in the face. There, in full sight, was the practical temporary fix that my daughter would have taken had the situation presented itself. As a matter of fact, it made me remember several times in her ski racing career when she did exactly the same thing.

There is a saying that I hadn't thought of in a long time: When the going gets tough, the tough get Duct Tape. Apparently, Macgyver has nothing on my family. Josephine could have learned a lesson or two. I know I did.

Post Script: Problem solved. I'll send my bill tomorrow :)

Controlling the Whether..

2010-10-28T07:46:00.000-06:00

If you are involved in skating, it's "that time" again. Sectionals are coming; Grand Prix is underway. Nationals are right around the corner. If you are a skater or the parent of a skater whose season is in hiatus because qualifying competition was not in the cards, or because you now find yourself making lemonade after not meeting a goal, you may be assessing whether or not you even want to continue. Either way, the landscape this time of year is usually a bit unclear.

To help break through the fog, it is necessary to realize there are some "whethers" you can control and some you cannot. You can control whether you choose to continue skating; you can control whether or not you make changes to your programs, costumes, choreography, coaches, clubs, training facilities. At certain levels, you can control whether or not you will compete only locally and regionally or take on the expenses of traveling (something that, at the higher levels, is not a "whether" but a "when"). You do have some say, though as you move on in the sport, controlling this "whether" becomes more and more challenging.

However, there is "whether" you can always control, if you pay attention to it. Whether you are beginning to map your course in this sport, or whether you are a long-time veteran, you can control your perspective on the experience. How you view the day-to-day affects whether or not you'll handle the sport in the long term. The same way a skater must hone skills and master them to the best of his or her abilities, parents must master patience and support while honing their skills of observation and communication. You need to know whether there are signs of trouble - changes in behavior, eating, socialization. You must watch and listen. You need to ask questions but not interrogate, either your skater or the coach. If there is a problem, you must know whether or not you can rein in your emotions enough for effective dialogue or whether you need outside help. Be sure you know which way the wind is blowing before you start storming around. And, ultimately, you must know whether this is something your

skater really wants to do or whether you are living out your own dreams. For some, that's the toughest one to navigate.

As you move forward; as you map out your plans for the rest of 2010 and beyond, think about the "whether." Be supportive. Observe. Find the calm. Avoid the unnecessary storm, knowing along the way that sometimes you must face it head on in order to survive. Chart your path carefully but be assured in the fact that you are not the first to navigate these frozen waters. And be prepared for the changes that come each day, each competition, each season - whether you are ready or not.

Musings - "Old School" Part II: The Ladies..

2010-10-25T11:27:00.000-06:00

I just realized that I never posted my "Old School" favorites from the ladies. After I re-posted the link to the men's videos, several people gently pointed that out to me. Mia Culpa. So, I'll start at the beginning with some of my personal favorite ladies' competition videos. I have others - including show programs - I will share at another time.

It is difficult to find competition video of Sonja Henie; only a few pieces are available on YouTube. Most of what I found was Sonja the movie star, not little Sonja who changed the world by jumping "like a man," shortening her skirts and making her skates white instead of black. Here is a vintage 15 second piece of Sonja Henie that defined future generations. Certainly, there are other videos, but this one hits home for me.
Moving ahead more than a few years, my next choice would have to be (Dr.) Tenley Albright. I was so honored to finally meet her in person at the 2010 U.S. Nationals. She is as beautiful, as graceful - and gracious - as anyone could imagine. This video is from the 1953 U.S. National Championships. The audio is not good. Fortunately, the skating is wonderful.

Another person that I so admire and am honored to call a friend is Carol Heiss (Jenkins). Like Tenley, Carol is a classic beauty in every sense of the word. Here is her gold medal performance from the 1960 Olympics. This is the first time I remember watching figure skating. I fell in love with it then. Nothing has changed, except a lot of years and now a totally different perspective on the sport as a skating parent.

Several years ago, our skater had the extreme honor of traveling to Virginia to work with Janet Lynn. After failing his first figures test six (yes, SIX) times, he said that if they had kept figures as part of the competition he would have quit skating a long time ago. It took a lot of competitions, and working with many wonderful choreographers and coaches, for him to understand what an important role edges play in skating technique. While not known for her school figures as a competitor, Janet Lynn has become one of the greatest proponents of understanding how edges and figures translate to freeskating. Here is my all-time favorite Janet Lynn performance.

Dorothy Hamill's 1976 Olympic Long Program (not a great quality video but again the skating transcends the medium). Unfortunately, my favorite performance of Dorothy's was never captured on film or tape; it is forever etched in my mind. Dorothy came to our club to do a show back in the early 1990s. We were still in the old rink then, one that had been originally an outdoor facility that was enclosed in the 1970s. "Cold" does not adequately describe that rink. It was the morning of the first performance and there were only a few of us present; the facility that had been opened early to allow Dorothy to practice. The lights were not on. The only light came from the small windows that ran the length of the ice on both sides. It was one of those rare mountain mornings when the condensation in the rink caused mist to rise from the surface. I had a press person with me who was waiting to interview Dorothy after she warmed up. She stepped onto the ice as someone from her skating troupe put on "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. There, in the early morning light and mist, Dorothy improvised to the music. I was in awe.

For this time around, I have saved two of my absolute favorites for last. The first one is iconic; the second is just inspirational.

Peggy Fleming's Olympic skate was a special moment in sport. After the tragic loss of the U.S. Team in the 1961 plane crash, Peggy and many others were thrust into the forefront of the sport. There was a tremendous amount of pressure to try and rebuild. Peggy would become the standard bearer. Many show, and many commentating years later, Peggy is still one of most recognized and revered ladies of skating.

My final one for now needs no introduction other than to say two words: Michelle Kwan. I will let Dick Button say the rest.

Musings - A Work in Progress

2010-10-24T18:10:00.000-06:00

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens. [Ecclesiastes 3:1]”

I was walking by the lake that is the centerpiece of where I work. On the south end that borders the golf course, there was a local artist with an easel, canvas, oils and all the paraphernalia that goes along with being, well, an artist. His attention moved with laser speed between his subject - golden trees and sun drenched buildings reflected in the still waters of a beautiful fall day - and the palate of primary colors he was diligently mixing to form new hues to eloquently match the vision he had in his mind's eye.

I approached him from behind, watched for four or five minutes and then said that I thought his painting was wonderful.

"It's a work in progress," he replied. "I'm never satisfied with what I do, but I love to do it."

There is much to be said for that.

Short Stop: Counting Down

2010-10-22T15:43:00.000-06:00

Okay, I lied. Don't hate me.

Back some time ago, I said that after having been to the top of the mountain, this season was going to be all about fun. I did say that - somewhere and to someone.

Now, here we are just hours away from the short program at NHK and my stomach is turning. Matter of fact, I'd get high GOEs if they could measure the twizzles in my intestines right now.

So, here I am again. It's not like Olympic year, but it is another year of watching, waiting, yelling at the computer screen and being, well, a mom. It's what I do.

Musing About Life On My Edge

2010-10-12T21:59:00.000-06:00

I have been way too serious in my last few blogs, mostly in response to private messages and emails I have been receiving. I appreciate the questions and am always happy to share my views, as long as everyone understands they are only that. Now, it is time to have fun - at my expense. After all, this is my blog and it is all about me (sort of).

I started skating at a very young age. I actually don't clearly remember when my mother strapped double runners on my feet and my father insisted I wear a hat since I was relatively hair challenged as a young child. I do know that it was outside on a frozen pond near our vacation home in Westport, Connecticut. My first clear recollections of skating actually start about the age of four when both my parents were working at NBC in New York. In those days, Howdy Doody was my babysitter (if you're too young to know who that is, Google it!) and my outdoor recreation was learning to skate at Rockefeller Plaza. I skated a lot back then, mostly to keep me from running a muck in 30 Rock. I was all decked out in a hat (with decidedly more hair at that point) and a Chesterfield coat with matching leggings. I had rental skates and a nice man who dragged me around in circles while I watched the people dining behind the large windows overlooking the rink. I loved that time when everyone was watching me and I thought I was just the best little skater out there. Children do have fertile imaginations; I was no exception.

I continued skating when my mom remarried and we moved to Chicago. There were parties at a very fancy and exclusive Near North club where curling was the top winter sport. There was outdoor skating at Armory Park near Lake Michigan where the city froze the equivalent of three football fields, surrounded them with warming huts that looked like ice fishing cabins and then pumped absolutely dreadful organ music through equally dreadful and inadequate speakers. Once a week, there was this kid named Richie skating with all of us. He was always accompanied by big men with no necks. It wasn't until years later that I figured out who that was.

I took figures and freeskate lessons at the venerable old Rainbo Arena, which is long gone though the famous skate shop namesake remains. In high school, I was a skating guard - complete with uniform jacket - at Marina City's tiny but out-of-the-wind Rockefeller Plaza wannabe rink. I took my passion for the ice to college in Denver, but eventually skiing won out as my sport of choice.

After moving to the mountains and becoming a mom - then a skate mom - I served time as club president, a Christmas elf, a Victorian ice dancer, a tree, a Boogie Woogie Bugle Girl, an ice monitor, basic skills assistant, bronze level ice dancer and one of those people who took stitches in my chin from catching a toe pick, much to the amusement of some of the older kids.

When we moved to Colorado Springs, my skating days were pretty much behind me. While it was acceptable to skate with our club in the mountains, to do so at a training facility - even on public session - was more than embarrassing. Occasionally, I would seek refuge back on the frozen ponds of the mountain resorts, alone in my love of skating and far away from the prying eyes of other parents and the critical, wagging tongues of higher level skaters and coaches.

Then came Spokane 2007.

The first time we went, I walked by the wonderful outdoor ice rink and longed to don boots and blades. I love outdoor skating more than anything and this was the perfect venue. I never got around to skating that year; I always regretted it because I didn't think we'd ever be back in that wonderful city.

Then came Spokane 2010.

Of course I was excited. It was Olympic year. Everything our skater had worked for was on the line. I was so excited to go. I was so excited to skate. I called some friends and off we went. Our skater's coach from Aspen, his sister and friends from across the country. It was a wonderful few hours of fun and anonymity. Like Spokane, it was perfect. It was my moment...for a moment...and that was enough.

Fast forward about 10 months.

For years, the place where I work was considered the home of figure skating. While the arena was torn down in 1994 and replaced with a new training facility about three miles away, my dream was to some day skate there. Last week, I finally got my wish - sort of. A coach whose famous last name is synonymous with a legacy of ice shows, organized some young skaters to perform for a convention group. No, he didn't get tank ice; he didn't actually get ice. What was installed was synthetic sheets of something that looked like packing material. I was intrigued. In the middle of our convention facility, laid out like Leggos, was a faux rink. Measuring 30' x 40' , this surface appeared to be something appropriate for Ken and Barbie. I watched several young athletes work their way around the rectangle, making it look so easy. Double Axel, camel spin, pairs lifts, Ina Bauer, catch-foot spin. I was in awe.

After everyone left, except for two colleagues who I trusted not to laugh, I sat in my business clothes, laced up my skates and ventured forth to the "Great Unknown." It was my turn to say I had skated at this iconic facility whose glory days of ice were long gone. This was my moment to relive those days in New York, Chicago, Denver and in the mountains. I was on home turf and I was ready.

Not exactly...

If you are of a certain age, you remember a movie called The Graduate, starring Dustin Hoffman, where his character receives advice from a family friend, Mr. McGuire: "There's a great future in plastics. Think about it. Will you think about it?"

I thought about it. Enough said.

As The Season Begins - The Tortoise and the Hare

2010-10-10T15:06:00.013-06:00

I have said this before to my young skater friends and their parents, but with regional qualifying competitions well under way, I feel it bears repeating: Success in competitive skating is not a sprint, it is a marathon.

When you're just out of the starting blocks and headed for your first 100 meters, it seems like fun - and it is. There's a competition here; another one there. You get a program - or two, or three. You get a costume or two. You get a DVD (it used to be VHS copies of which we have three large boxes in the garage waiting to be transferred) and you come home with a hundred or so stuffed animals. Local events are usually within driving distance. It's a weekend jaunt; a fun and exciting getaway.

But as you head into the second 100 meters, the drives get longer; the stays get longer. The expenses grow and the events become spread out over the course of the year. Suddenly, you're racing through the season. There is no summer, fall, winter, spring; there is Summer Skate, Fall Classic, Winter Invitational and Spring Fling, or any manner of names for these events that allow skaters to test their mettle for medals - though the focus really should be about growing in the sport, not just about gaining hardware for the mantelpiece.

In the third 100 meters, you are breathing hard. Your heart is pounding. No matter what the level of competition, every mile is either increasingly euphoric or painstakingly excruciating. Like the rabbit in the race, you rush from one rink to another, one competition to the next - and in some cases from one coach to another -in search of maintaining an elusive state of elation. You run on high energy, high caffeine and even higher amounts of dwindling cash. Like an extreme athlete, you become an "adrenaline junkie" looking for your next competition fix.

The difference is you're the support, not the participant. It's easy to lose sight of that. Did I? Of course. Does that make it okay? No.

Life has a way of teaching you things if you choose to observe, listen and learn. We found out firsthand that over-training and over-use leads to injury. We learned that it was important to listen to doctors, physical therapists, athletic trainers and sports psychologists, and it was important for coaches to listen to these experts, too. We observed overzealous and tyrannical behavior on the ice and in the stands. Along with that came the comings and goings of many extremely promising and talented young skaters who grew up and out of the sport for a variety of reasons, not the least which was burnout.

As we look to the last meters of our skater's personal 24K in this sport (though his competitive finish line is still not in sight), we've learned that for athletes and their support crews, marathons require patience, planning and intestinal fortitude. You cannot sprint a marathon and expect to survive. Like the tortoise, taking a slow, steady, well-trained and carefully calculated course can keep you in the race.

So, as you head into whatever mile of this race you find yourself on, remember to breathe, step back and make a plan that takes into account your skater's ability, desire, physical aptitude and his or her long-range goals. It's a team effort, and if you keep that in mind at all times everyone will probably reach a satisfactory and healthy finish somewhere down the line. However, If you only look at short-term gain without a realistic, flexible long-term plan, I can promise one thing - you and your skater will most likely be Hare Today and Gone Tomorrow.

Musing: In The Company of Strangers

2010-10-03T17:06:00.002-06:00

I started this blog as a diary (of sorts) and now - thanks to some very generous parents, coaches and other bloggers - I have a modest following. My blog has landed me an advisory position on a wonderful site run by *IceMom; I have fans of our skater who have now become close personal friends; I regularly communicate with people around the world. It is good company and I am so grateful to be a contributor, voice of reason (most of the time), ally of this incredibly difficult sport and cheerleader for its participants.

As I have transitioned into this new role of Elder Spokesperson, I do see a trend emerging. I call it the, "I don't know who to ask, so I'll ask you," communication. Like the old letters that were annonomously written to Dear Abby or Ann Landers, these voices want - no, need - to be heard. Many of them are voices of skaters; some are parents and even coaches. They don't know where to turn; they don't feel they have a support system. They are looking for direction, advice and solace in the company of strangers.

That's what we are, after all. Strangers.

This begs a question: If we are getting queried on topics ranging from equipment to sports psychology - and literally everything in between; if the preferred form of communication for these anonymous voices is the blog, Facebook or Twitter, then where are the committees within our organizations who can really assist? If they're out there, most people's GPS can't even track them down because of all the twists, turns and roadblocks on their websites. Some information is buried so deeply you can't find names, emails and phone numbers.

This leads me back to a time that we all thought, or at least hoped, was long gone.

Back in the "Dark Ages," if you had issues, you registered your questions and complaints to the people from your club who attended Governing Council and hoped they brought you back some answers. If you had coaching questions, you didn't know if you could go to PSA for answers or not; you probably didn't know what PSA was. Most likely your "twitter" and "chat" happened one-on-one with like-minded parents at the rink. If there were more serious problems, you probably didn't know (or were too intimidated to ask) if you could lodge complaints or ask questions directly to USFS. That's why you had a club president; he or she was the "chosen one." It was the sole responsibility of the president to enter the gates of the Emerald City and seek an appointment with Oz. You were merely a Munchkin.

But now we are in the Communication Age. So, where are the resources? Many would argue that they are out there, and they are - IF you do a lot of homework. I think the frustration of not having information in one place is partly why there has been a dramatic rise in blogs by parents and coaches. People can now openly voice their questions, opinions and concerns and there is an audience eager to listen and engage in conversation. Accessibility has created a new community, one that is taking matters into its own hands. These strangers, literally from around the world, have come together to try and create what has been lacking for so long.

Of course, with this new creation there is a great responsibility to try and get it right - something that is difficult in a world of communication quicksand. But if we can help make a difference; if we can answer a question, offer opinion and some modicum of expertise, solve a problem or at least give direction, then we are on the right track.This comes with a very big caveat: You must do your own homework. We are all looking for a quick fix, but sometimes it is not "One Size Fits All." Be a smart consumer of information. Look for trusted sources. We hope we can assist, but remember - on the web, in chat rooms, on blogs, Twitter and Facebook, we are all in the company of strangers; some are stranger than others. Be careful out there.

You Are Not In Control - A Few Choice Words of Wisdom for Young and Old

2010-09-27T19:34:00.000-06:00

When one talks about control, there are some interesting lessons to be learned that are more than ones dealing with skating. Holding a TV remote does not mean you control the channels; being the captain does not mean you control the ship; holding the purse strings does not guarantee success; communicating with people does not mean they will listen or understand. All you can do is your best and all you can hope for is an outcome over which - again - you have no control.

I say this because we are all vying for a spot in the same life raft. For skaters, coaches and parents, this is the time of year that we like to believe we have magical, mystical powers that can affect outcome. Parents believe they can cajole, communicate, confront or contest in order to control. Coaches take the same course of action believing that one more word, one more gesture, one more pat on the back or stern admonition will make a difference. And skaters believe that one more last-minute session, one more jump, spin, twizzle or turn will suddenly catapult them into fame, stardom and success at the upcoming competitions.

Guess what..

I don't mean to sound - well - mean, but the reality is we have very little control, particularly on outcome. We can create as many scenarios, write as many mental "scripts" as we want, but the truth of the matter is that we can only rely on all the steps that have taken us to this point to guide us to the outcome. The only thing in control is the mind. When it comes to skating, it controls everything. Truly.

Take a look at our history. When we are young, comprehension and visual mimicking or patterning is what helps us learn. We repeat sounds, steps and sequences until we learn to speak and walk. We grow into our skills at different levels and at different points of development. We are individuals; we are unique.

As we grow older, something in the collective psyche of society says that we must learn the same way, in the same way and in the same time frame. Apply that theory to skating, and you get the picture. Little Alice can do a flip at age 5; little Alex can do an axel at age 7. Coaches and parents see this and start wondering, "What's wrong with my child? I don't see a flip. I don't see an axel. I've put all this time and money into this sport and there's nothing. Who's at fault? Maybe if I push my skater harder; maybe if I nag my coach more, we'll get results. After all, I am in control. I'm calling the shots."

Wow. How wrong can one be?

I am still learning about not having control. I am listening to it in my own household as we try to fix a computer with an unknown virus that has shut down our lives as we know it. I am learning that when family members make up their minds not to do something, that is their attempt at control. Being stubborn is apparently a genetic trait. I can get mad, I can use humor, I can use sarcasm - all to no avail. I have no control. Neither do you.

So, as you head into the 2011 season, break out your lucky charms and your teddy bears. Cross your fingers, tie your right shoe first. Do whatever makes you feel like you have the power to create change. What you should not do under any circumstance is think that you know more than the mind of the person you are trying to affect. Live in your fantasy world if you choose, but do not spill your expectations all over everyone else. Be a cheerleader? Absolutely. Be a tyrant? Absolutely not. Either way, what will be will be. So, better to cheer than to chide. Better to experience than to expect. You are not in control of anyone but yourself. But your behavior can change the confluence. It will not, however, affect the final destination.

Expense VS. Cost - What Every Parent Should Know (Or At Least Understand)

2010-09-23T21:20:00.005-06:00

This is the first year we have not applied for support from US Figure Skating's Memorial Fund. It is another rite of passage, I suppose. Frankly, I don't know what we would have done without it. We also relied on some other sources of funding that now may be going "the way of the Dodo" with the new tax laws. However, this is not a political statement; I don't discuss politics - except as it pertains to skating. This is about the realities of the expense in this sport, and the cost that comes along with it.

If you are not a skating parent but a casual spectator, or a "True Fan," you may not realize what a skater's expenses are as they attempt to attain their dreams. Let's put this into an annual perspective*:

Basic Skills: 210 cups of Starbucks - grande
Pre: 632 cups of Starbucks - grande
Juv and Intermediate (at the JNs level) - 2,520 cups of Starbucks - grande
Novice (at the Nationals level) - 4,211 cups of Starbucks - grande
Junior (at the Nationals and JGP levels) - 8,421 cups of Starbucks - grande
Elite (at the Nationals, GP, Worlds levels) - 16,632 cups of Starbucks - vente

* Prices may vary by location; subject to availability but very close accurate.

Yes, this is an unreasonably expensive( and highly caffeinated) sport. Financially, it is second only to equestrian, but then I can't imagine putting something with four legs into costumes and skates, housing, feeding, and flying from one place to another. Actually, on second thought, I can: It's called pairs and dance.

I am making light of a very serious subject. The expense of skating at the higher levels sometimes isn't worth the cost. Like so many other sports - skating being just one - these can be numerous:

Family arguments about scheduling
Family arguments about finances
Loss of personal time
Loss of perspective about what is really important in life
Loss of communication
Loss of marriages
Moving
Remortgaging
Refinancing
Reality

* Costs may vary by family; subject to dynamics and income, but very close accurate.

Over the years, I have seen both sides - the expense and the cost. I only ask, as you move through your years and tears in skating, that you try to keep things in perspective. It is difficult to be realistic when your Basic Skills skater wins his or her first ribbon or medal. It is even more difficult to not keep count of the subsequent medals and awards as they move up through the non-qualifying ranks. It is difficult not to buy a practice dress that costs a month's mortgage; to purchase a competition costume that doesn't have more stones than one sees on the crown jewels. It is even more difficult to look at the reality and ask yourself, "Can I afford it?"

I have to tell you, most of the time the answer is yes. If your skater loves the sport, you find a way. Sometimes the payoff is like grasping the brass ring; sometimes the payoff is a child that has grown to understand what discipline and hard work means. Sometimes, the payoff isn't worth the effort you've put into wanting your skater to succeed.

The difference is in answering one simple question:"Who's dream is this?"

The news reported today that the cost of coffee is going up. Like everything else, that's no surprise. The next question has to be, do you continue to buy grande, switch to regular or give it up all together? It's the price you have to pay.

Musing: Sitting on the Sidelines

2010-09-20T21:59:00.001-06:00

The skating season is underway and I feel somewhat disenfranchised. No, I am disenfranchised.

Twenty one years ago, it was all so easy. Get up at 4:30am; make school lunch; make breakfast. Wake our skater up (that was when he actually GOT up at 4:30am) and into skating clothes with school clothes tucked away in a backpack. Head for the car and the 16 mile drive to the rink for patch (aka: figures) at 6am, followed by skating lessons. Off to school; off to work; off to school; off to the rink for more skating on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. The other days it was a number of things, including gymnastics or skiing. Back home to dinner and off to bed. The routine was down pat with a few monkey wrenches thrown in, like illnesses and competitions - which, on occasion, were one in the same.

The years continued longer than patch did. More time in the rink and more time on the road traveling to competitions. More time talking to parents in the stands, planning club shows and fundraisers, struggling to keep things from imploding both on and off the ice with skaters, parents, coaches, board members and rink operators. Mostly, more time on the road and in the stands.

Then came the move, the new job, the new club, the new arena; new coaches, parents and new competitions and, yes, more time on the road - and in the air. There were the literal and figurative "ups and downs" that come with moving up the competitive skating levels. There was ice dance and pairs, both relatively short-lived for varying reasons. There were injuries and indigestion and more Starbucks than anyone should legally consume. Life was a frozen cocoon of routine comfort. It wasn't always what I wanted to do, but it was what I knew.

Then came another move and life started to change. After 19 years of knowing the routine, suddenly there were no stands, there were fewer (but much more stressful) competitions. There weren't parents, coaches, board members on a daily basis. Life on the road consisted of 1.2 miles each way to work and back, with side trips to the store and other immediate and definitely non skating-related concerns. Suddenly, I was living life in a parallel universe where the only ice was in my drinks and my car wasn't on auto pilot to the arena parking lot.

Now, the 2011 season has begun and I am not in the arena. I am not even sure if I am sitting on the sidelines. I watch the posts on Ice Network with results from the first Junior Grand Prix events and I realize I hardly recognize any of the names. Non qualifying competitions that I used to attend like some attend Sunday services are happening in my town and I don't even know about them until some of my skater friends post results on Twitter or on their Facebook pages.

Regionals and Sectionals will soon be upon us. We will not be there.We will not be sitting in the stands, talking to parents, visiting with judge and coach friends and taking Pepcid after too much coffee, too much fast food and way too much stress. We reserve those days to Nationals now, and the 3 am "BCOD" days of watching Grand Prix competitions on our computer as we sit in our pajamas, still with Pepcid, Starbucks and stress. These are very solitary times in our skating world.

Sitting on the sidelines of skating was simple at first. Now, it has become more difficult as I realize how much I miss those days - the good, the bad and the decidedly ugly. It is like anything in life that has actually defined your life for so many years.

If you are a young skating parent, I have said this before but I feel it bears repeating: While you are still in the rink, still talking to parents in the stands and coaches in the lobby,and still getting up early in the morning and coming home late; if you are still on the road or in the air, or even up in the air about whether you want to be on this ride, step back and take it in. Like a baby grows up too quickly, this time passes into past before you know it. Carpe Diem. Head into the season with eyes and arms open. Enjoy! We'll be there, somewhere, cheering.

A Personal Note on Passages

2010-09-11T08:19:00.001-06:00

I have to admit it has been a struggle to put things into perspective these past weeks. So much change has been going on; personally most of it great and exciting - sometimes confusing - but an adventure nonetheless.

It certainly has been heightened with the addition of our first granddaughter. Sophie Alexandra joined this slightly off-center family at her decidedly own schedule, keeping us all up and glued to our cell phones and text messages for nearly 2 days and nights as she looked around, gathered up her things and then decided to make her grand entrance into our world on September 8. Tired and excited mom, exhausted dad and sleep deprived grandparents, aunts, uncles and great grandparents all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Sophie had arrived.
Our Eagle had Landed.

Like so many others in this extended family tribe, Sophie will be a force to be reckoned with and she is already making that clearly known. How special it will be to witness the scripting of the prologue and then watch as she outlines her own chapters: First in spittle, then pablum and mashed peas; followed by a rainbow of crayon colors, finger paints and pastels. Of course, those of us who know better, if not best, realize this part will move all-too quickly, so we will savor every moment while we can.

Welcome Sophie Alexandra. I, for one, cannot wait to chronicle your adventures as I take on my new role. The only favor I would ask is that you explore your own world in your own way. Just let us be there to guide you, but mostly let us come along for the ride. It is your turn for exploration. And when you find your path, I can guarantee your grandfather will be there yelling "Go Alexandra!!"
With Love and Excitement for all the Possibilities Ahead,

Memey

Half a World Away - Back to Reality.

2010-08-27T23:30:00.004-06:00

Before I return to my Seoul adventures that are taking longer in the retelling than the trip itself, I need to share some quick impressions of my yesterday.

Our skater came home, albeit for only a short night and a day, before heading to the Olympic Training Center for what is called Champs Camp. I am not going to belabor the emotions surrounding seeing the bedroom door closed for the first time since last Christmas, getting some shared time in the car to talk like we used to do years ago during our Aspen to Colorado Springs commutes and having the joy of hearing sarcastic comments as comebacks to my questions. Let's just say that it became a Polaroid portfolio of the past 21 years, snapped in seconds but mirroring time in shades of gray. However, when our skater decided that he would do a session at his old training facility instead of going to the city arena, what returned in Technicolor were the memories of years in the rink.

I've talked before about how surprisingly easy it was to transition from being a working rink mom to focusing on having a life outside of the bleachers. Since our skater's move, I have barely set foot in the building that was part of our lives for more than 10 years. While I have kept up with friends and chatted with other skaters via Facebook and email, I have not found my car mysteriously driving itself down the once well-worn path to the rink parking lot. Yesterday, I was faced with a bad case of "Deja Vu All Over Again" as I pulled up to the entrance, popped the trunk to release the skating bag and then pulled into an all-to-familiar space, facing the car forward for a quick escape. We were back in the building.

If you have ever wondered what it is like to have your life flash before your eyes, for me this was it. I was not chomping at the bit to walk into the lobby. I was looking for some affirmation, or any familiar face that did not belong to a coach or another skating parent. I had become very comfortable with my role of working professional non-skating parent. This experience was taking me back in time, and to a mental "script" that had a denouement more than a year ago. In other words, I was over it. The only driving force making my feet move in that direction was seeing my skater on the ice. Like a photograph, I was a frozen moment.

After the first few, very awkward minutes at the registration desk where parents, coaches and skaters stared like I was some sort of specter - the ghost of skating past - I walked through the doors of the Olympic training rink to be greeted by some not-so-old but very wonderful friends. There were hugs all around from higher level skaters whom I had not seen in a long time. There were some hugs from coaches and friendly words from a few parents. Looking around, things had changed. First, our skater's Nationals banner from 2009 was finally hanging from the ceiling. Next, the photo artwork that graced the wall above the skate shop was gone. The wall on the north end of the rink was an "interesting" and somewhat distracting shade of green. But the bleachers were still there; they were still cold. The session was still over crowded and the tension was still the same. I felt at home, but it was a home I knew I didn't live in any more. I was glad for that.

Now, I will refer you to a previous blog called The Things I Miss Most.

Sitting by myself watching only my skater, I realized I truly do miss the process more than the product. I love watching the development of a program. I did see some nerves at taking familiar ice in an unfamiliar situation, but it all melted away as my skater's friends - including some of his competitors - came over to say hi, shake his hand and make nice comments.

Once everything reached a level of comfort, work was done. It was exciting. It was the part of Deja Vu that reminded me why, after all these years, we look back at the snapshots. Pasted together, they create a panorama that few can really comprehend, and even fewer can claim. Like great art, it was there to be appreciated at every level. I didn't need to understand it; I only needed to experience it. I had returned. Now, it was time to move on.

Allison Wonderland: Namdaemun Market

2010-08-21T10:51:00.005-06:00

I spend my working life being involved, so when I can escape, my great joy is being a travel voyeur. I absolutely love people-watching. I am fascinated with everyday scenes on the streets, in the markets, in restaurants - anywhere there is something I don't see, do or hear every day. Maybe that is why returning to South Korea was so appealing to me.

Seoul and the surrounding areas are a sensory feast. And no place on earth is more so than at Namdaemun Market. This outdoor area encompasses approximately 18 city blocks and literally miles of back streets and alleyways. Every corner you turn is a wonder that cries out to be explored. The colors are vivid; the aromas distinct. There is enough steaming and squirming street food to keep Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern busy for an entire season. Like string cheese, there was string fish that was absolutely wonderful. I even saw children eating chopped Fish on a Stick. Miso, vegetables, noodles and - yes - more types of Kimchi than I thought was possible, including chocolate covered! Wow. There were beautiful woven baskets, embroidered mats; clothing - so much clothing; hats, fans, shoes, knickknacks and more "whatchamacallits" than I have ever seen. If I had been given an extra six days, a lot more won, and about two more suitcases (which I could have purchased at the market, by the way), I would have been able to take care of all holiday, anniversary and birthday presents for the next 10 years.

But to me, even more interesting than the products were the vendors and the shoppers. Sure, we have flea markets and farmers' markets; we have mall warriors who relentlessly shop for deals. What we don't have is the massively organized chaos of this place. People cooking, people haggling over prices; people fingering fabrics and trying on clothes. Small children pulling mothers from one visual sensation to another. Motorcyclists wending their way down the mostly pedestrian walkways at breakneck speeds delivering everything from riders to radios and TVs. Oblivious shoppers whose sixth sense seem to keep them from getting run over. Everywhere you turn there is another human interest story playing out in short stories and snapshots of time and trade.

Namdaemun is first-rate "eye candy." It speaks to my soul and sensitivities like no other place I have ever been. I want - no, I need - to return, explore and experience more; preferably not in the oppressive heat and humidity of a South Korean mid-summer, but at a time where I can get lost in the sights and sensations for hours on end.

Part Four - Deja Vu All Over Again

2010-08-11T22:16:00.003-06:00

Gyeongbok Palace April 2009

I have an unabashed love for Seoul. But like most places I have only visited once, it begged the question: "Do I love the place, or just the memory?"
That was what I was wondering as I fiddled to get my seat in the upright and locked position for landing at Incheon airport. I looked out the window at the landscape below and it was deja vu all over again. This time, however, the landscape looked green and lush - a far cry from the early April chill that accompanied the air on my first trip in 2009. I wondered if my memory was going to be better than the reality.

Incheon is an enormous airport, but the customs lines moved with precision and speed. Six international flights had all landed within minutes of one another, yet I found myself stamped, inspected and with luggage in hand in less than 20 minutes; impressive by anyone's travel standards.
As I headed through the electric doors to the main terminal, I knew I was being met by the organizers. However, to my great surprise, the first two faces I saw in the sea of humanity waiting at the greeting area were those of my friends Seung-ah and "MJ." At that very moment, all the concerns I had about my return literally dissolved in a flurry of hugs, smiles, gifts and greetings in English and Korean. I was back. The "girls" were here; life was good.
After some confusion because of time, language and trying to catch up on 18 months in 18 minutes, I was whisked from the air conditioned comfort of Incheon out the doors to the sauna of a Seoul summer. I wanted to spend more time with my friends, but culture and convention did not allow them to ride with me in the sedan from the airport to the hotel. We stood around curbside talking for a few minutes. The next thing I saw was a van pulling up behind me. Immediately following the van, I saw my son for the first time since Canada. I have to admit it was more than a bit surreal. Here we were, months later, strangers in a strange but strangely familiar land, trying to greet one another but painfully aware that this was a public moment, not a private one. He and I exchanged pleasantries and a somewhat awkward hugging moment. He talked to our friends and accepted welcome gifts then he hopped into his van and was off. I hastily made plans to meet on Friday with Seung-ah, hugged both ladies and then was escorted into my sedan for a very singular 30 minute ride to the hotel.

Since there was no conversation between my driver and me on the way to the Mayfield Hotel Resort because of the language barrier, I had time to survey the landscape. Again, I marveled at how green everything was. I marveled at how familiar everything was. I tried to figure out why this distinctly different, hot and historic land felt so comfortable. Was it that parts of the landscape reminded me of Southern California where I spent my summers, or was there something else - like a past life? It was a question I pondered the entire week of my trip and one I am not sure I will ever answer. All I knew at this point was the fact that I was back in Seoul. That made me smile, and smiles are the same in any language.