I am back, a day later than I promised.

During the season, Mom & Dad frequently had occasion to shop without our help and advice (we could never imagine why) and before they were old enough to date, that put Michelle and Maurine in command.  They were pretty reasonable baby-sitters, and I have always admired their  techniques.  It was on one of these evenings that Maurine, with able assistance from Michelle, taught Dave and I not only how to belch on demand, but how to do it in complete sentences (Jeff was still an innocent baby at the time). It is probably a good thing, but I sometimes regret that I have lost that ability.

They would tell us of their legendary instructors and wonderful exploits at the ancient Lincoln Junior High School (by the time we youngers came of age, a new junior high had been built on our side of town, so the stories would remain stories. Maurine would also regale us with various Christmas tunes using her folded hands for an adjustable whistle.  While I did not acquire that skill at the time, it provided me the inspiration that led me to become a pretty good hand whistler, my debut occurring inadvertently in the middle of my 8th grade science class...another story for another time.

Ice skating in those times meant a trip to the Provo Boat Harbor, a small man-made pond which opened onto Utah Lake and, during warmer seasons provided a place for the various floating craft that populated the lake a place to launch.  During most winters it froze over so firmly that a jeep with a blade could be driven out on it to scrape of the snow and provide a suitable skating surface (early version of a Zamboni, I guess:-).

My Dad was an accomplished figure-skater, and passed his skills on to Michelle and Maurine, both of whom could skate backward with ease.  The boys in the family apparently did not pick up that gene, and could only skate forward...but we did have such great times.  The skating was free, and there were always a few fires on the shore to warm us up and to provide the evocative scent of wood smoke to our outings.  We would often return home to hot cocoa or deep bowls of Mom's home-made chili.

To be continued...