One winter, back in the mid 50's, one of the parents in the neighborhood made a fine rink for us kids. We played hockey till our parents came and dragged us home. There were kids of all ages every night on that rink, but us younger, and smaller kids, had a big advantage over the bigger ones; there was a clothes line right through the middle of the rink, about 5 feet above the ice. Many a tall, lanky skater brought up with that clothes line under his chin; everybody knew it was there, but with the puck on your stick, it was everything be damned, and off to the races.

We never had skates that fit, but we were fine when our feet went numb from the cold. Mother would have a pan of water for our feet when we got in. The howls of pain could be heard all over as the feeling returned.

That is our kulture.

Last edited by dennis1945; 02/22/10 11:54 PM.