On this day I took my beloved and my little one to the place that held my fondest childhood memories — my old rollerskating rink.  The highlight of my week as a kid was being dropped off on Saturday afternoons while I blissfully skated to disco under the twinkling lights of a giant spinning mirror ball.  I remember not having money to play Pac-Man but I didn’t care; I just loved to skate.  Each week my daddy gave me one quarter and I used it to buy a Dr. Pepper with crushed ice.  When I got thirsty enough I would come racing in backward toward the railing, only using my toe stops at the very last second.  I was so cool.  My childhood was financially difficult and I worried for my folks a lot, but my father always found a way to provide for me to go and skate my troubles away.  For those few hours I had the best clothes (no one knew my Ralph Lauren polo shirts came from the thrift shop) and I had my Jordache jeans along with the very best skates, which my parents sacrificed tremendously in order for me to have.  Back in 1980 I believe they were over $200!  It was a really big deal and I always knew it.  I competed and won in contests much like one sees in the Winter Olympics ice dance today.  Sadly, rollerskating was never made an Olympic sport despite the many local, regional, and national titles for which skaters trained and earned.  I skated solo, with a partner, and even did the tedious figure eights just like they still do in ice skating.  At a very tender age I was hired to teach grown-ups to skate.  I think I was around ten.  I was really proud as it was my first job besides babysitting.  But mostly, every Saturday from two to five p.m. I reigned over that rink which was my escape from the world.  The famous retired American figure skater Dorothy Hamill is quoted as having said, “I’m really very glad that I had skating to be my love and my escape.  I think that it always gave me something that made me feel good, and it was music, and it was peaceful, and not a lot of the other stresses of life.”  I felt the exact same way.  No one was there to make fun of the car we drove, or to judge that we lived in an apartment; they just knew I was the reigning queen of the rink.  On the final skate people would often clear the floor to watch my partner and I do “the Glide.”  As a teenager I slowly tapered off but I never lost my love of rollerskating.  Years ago I can remember going with my then future husband on a date and being impressed that he didn’t skate dorky.  We went to a rink that was closer to where I lived.  The last time I went rollerskating was there with my husband and we took our little one who was about three.  Heartbreakingly, that rink closed shortly afterwards and this was our first time returning to the glossy boards.  Now our girl is about to turn seven and I thought it would be cool to throw her a seventies rollerskating party.  This brings us back to my beloved childhood roller rink.  I was thrilled to note the giant oh-so-’70’s carpeted “toad stools” remained where one can lace up their skates.  But time had taken her toll and faded the glory of my youth.  I had not brought my husband here before and I wanted to introduce my little one to my childhood refuge as well.  I wanted her to experience the heady freedom of gliding along to great songs in a darkened rink, aided only by the twirling sparkles of a huge disco ball and colored lights pulsing in time to the music.  Gazing up, I realized the great glitter ball was frozen, and the colored streamers that used to billow from the ceiling aided by strong air-conditioning were no longer there.  A visit to the once sacrosanct DJ booth revealed the state-of-the-art 1970’s soundboard had caught fire and burned up some time ago.  No matter, I was back and now I had my precious family with me.  I skated backwards as I taught our little girl to skate forwards.  She was so impressed and I found myself feeling cool again despite the fact that currently I have no prayer (or desire) of fitting into any type of tight jeans ever again.  To be continued …