My family owes a lot to ice skating. In fact, my first date with my wife of 25 years was at a festival of lights that featured outdoor skating. I still remember how we both pretended we were not good skaters so we could cling tighter to each other. I grew up in New York's Niagara Falls area right next to the Canadian border, so ice skating has always been a part of my life. When I was a child, one of my best friend's fathers created that magical oasis that cold-weather kids crave: a backyard ice rink. Looking back, the rink was quite small, but in my memories it had NHL proportions complete … [Read more...]
The Window of Childhood Doesn’t Need Cleaning
My oldest son turns 15 this week, which has plenty of implications regarding his teen spirit, but also on my run as a father. I turned 47 a couple of months ago, which, if you carry the one, means I have been a dad for nearly a third of my life. It’s a funny thing, having built my writing career waxing melancholy on the always-closing, finger-smudged window of childhood, and the tenderness thereof, to now engage in conversations with a son nearly as tall as me, and a voice just as deep. His little brother isn’t far behind him. I admit that, in terms of monitoring milestones — the last … [Read more...]