John Carlson: No Skating Around The Issue
By John Carlson— Every year about this time, winter’s last gasps remind me how happy I am to be too old to ice skate. As kids, my sister Patty and I skated a lot. Home being right off Lake Erie in northern Ohio, where winters were invariably a pain in the tush, our city operated two municipal ice-skating rinks. These were fine facilities, with buildings for skaters to warm themselves in, hot chocolate on tap, and Zamboni ice machines to keep the surfaces smooth as glass. The idea, I think, was to divert us from the pristine ponds and rivers…
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