Ice skating

Family History Writing Challenge - Day 21

** NOTE: The italicized font is creative non-fiction. Based upon the stories of my mother and uncle it is my creative writing of their memories. **

“Come on and hear, come on and hear Alexander’s Ragtime Band…” the lilting tones of Alexander’s Ragtime Band flowed on the winter wind as two skaters glided on the ice. “Come on and hear, come on and hear it’s the best band in the land…” Skeet, skeet, skeet, Mason’s skates quietly joined in rhythm to the song. Skating with her neighbor, a young man, 6 years her senior, Mason enjoyed his singing; he was a very good skater. A small frozen pond had formed in the field in front of her house, where Mason, her little brother and the neighbor children would gather. Although bitterly cold, the evening skating party was warm with friendship. Overhead the “northern lights” flamed in the sky, brilliant greens and pinks blazing against the black velvet sky; the most beautiful ever seen.

Despite the fact that Mason moved two years later, she never forgot the times she ice skated with him.  Once while vacationing in Lubec at the same he was home visiting his family, they briefly caught up. That was the last time they had spoken and seen each other, for now what must be over 75 years. Mason lost track of her childhood friend, but she never forgot and longed to find out what had ever happened to him.

“I can’t believe he spent time with a little kid; I was 12 and friends with his sisters; we all went to school together.” Mom heaved a sigh of resignation “I doubt he’d remember me, we were so young.” Having made contact with the niece of her neighbor (the daughter of one of his sisters) through social media, another one of mom’s childhood friends took on flesh in my mind. “I doubt he’ll remember me” she reiterated, but after a short period of time the following note was received via instant messenger: “…I’m thrilled to hear from you! You’re looking great!  I have fond memories of our icescapes. I also remember you being home to Lubec one summer when I was painting my grandmother’s house. You stopped by with your family & we had a brief chat. Take care.”   “Oh my, he does remember me!” Through the marvels of technology, pictures and addresses were exchanged. The lost art of letter writing sent by “snail mail” ensued for a brief period of time. Her question had been answered, her childhood skating companion found.