Art and Hockey

Caution, the word snow is mentioned in this blog

It is June 11th and the topic of conversation has quickly steered away from art and all our attention has been dominated by hockey game angst and the good and the bad outcomes of the Vancouver Canucks battle for the Stanley Cup.

I am not an avid hockey fan but I grew up in Calgary, Alberta where hockey and winter activities were a big part of our lives. I remember how much my Dad loved to watch the NHL games every Saturday night and my three brothers all enjoyed playing hockey at the community rink.
Our family home was in the S.W. and in the heart of the Shaganappi neighbourhood. I loved all our neighbours and my friends and everything about our close knit community. The Shaganappi Community Center offered year round activities for kids and adults. We were so close to everything and if you ran everywhere, like most kids did, our home was only 10 seconds from my elementary school, 14 seconds from the playground and 60 seconds from the toboggan hills, skating rink and community center.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF ICE AND HOCKEY
My childhood recollections of winter often featured a typical sunny day and the freshly fallen snow. In this particular ice skating recollection, I see myself as a toddler holding my Mom's hand and moving my feet back and forth on the ice and going absolutely nowhere. I also imagined Mom hoping I would release her grasp and do a few laps around the rink but even at that young age I knew my limitations, because strapped securely to my winter boots were those funny double bladed bob skates and elegant moves on bob skates were unlikely for any novice skater.

By the age of 5, I was given a pair of real skates. Once steady and staying mostly upright, these scruffy old leather CCM skates were great for speeding around the rink. My brother Ronnie eventually showed me how to hold a hockey stick and shoot a puck at the net. It was great fun and I was slowly getting the hang of it. Then one day I took notice that my skates were brown and all my friends skates were white. Finally, after much hinting and possibly complaining, I received a fabulous birthday gift...a pair of gleaming white figure skates. I loved my girlie skates and immediately took to the ice but there was something different about the picks on my figure skates that made it difficult for me to properly use a hockey stick and move the puck around the ice and as you guessed the game of hockey was not for me.

As the new owner of these fancy pick skates, I had numerous visions of a much older me leading the glittering lineup of the Ice Capades or dazzling spectators and judges during the world skating competitions like Barbara Ann Scott had done years before. Mom saw this new interest of mine and signed me up for Saturday figure skating lessons at the community center. I was so eager and again envisioned myself flying through the air with my imaginary partner in an skin tight sequined costume. The lessons 1,2, and 3 were fun and I practiced all my moves evenings and weekends at the rink. Even though the weather got nastier and nastier and the ice got bumpier and lumpier, I eventually managed a pretty good spiral and figure eight without tripping on my picks and doing a face plant.

THE REWORKING OF A DREAM 

Every girl's dream of becoming a figure skating megastar generally plays out beautifully if she happens to be scheduled for lessons and coaching in the indoor skating arena or having the advantage of her mom and dad's annual membership at The Winter or  The Glencoe Club.

By lesson 4, I was miserable and lesson 5 dragged on in the bitter cold and my romantic notion of figure skating was shattered into a million frozen pieces and skinny little me, in my figure skating tights and skimpy skirt had one of those AH HA moments. As I did my last figure eight, I looked over the boards to see the well padded junior hockey team hopefuls, sweating away, huffing and puffing as they skated back and forth during their vigorous workout and it then it dawned on me - as young person, my destiny was not to spend my life on the ice and suffer through the frozen toes and fingers, the blinding blizzards, the endless perfection of ice dancing and constant costume fittings. My new dream was to get my Mom to enroll me in a less stressful indoor activity that perhaps I was more suited to like....
art courses at the Y.





Detail of  The Neighbourhood Skating Party
Acrylic Painting and Giclee print by Barbara Weaver-Bosson