Dear Readers, around 1897, Mark Twain wrote, “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” I mention his quotation because it’s been a while since I’ve blogged. But I have experienced some rough times last year, and now it seems that 2021 has started on that same treacherous 2020 road. I hope there is a fork in the road, and that choosing the correct one will lead to better times. Those folks who follow me already know that I am taking care of my sister, and that I suffer from a wicked illness, fibromyalgia, so I won’t discuss it. Please don’t misunderstand me. In spite of the horrible pain, I’m happy to be alive! I also don’t want to bore you to death with my 24/7 ailments. Instead, I’ll tell you why I chose to write about a pair of old roller skates.

When I was a child, probably 12 years old, Dad bought a pair of well-used roller skates, similar to the ones depicted in the picture. I’m assuming he got them at an auction; he always got us second hand items because he couldn’t afford to buy us new ones. Well, my siblings didn’t try the roller skates. The straps were broken. But I used some rope I found in our home and managed to tie the skates to my ill-clad feet. Our front porch had wooden railings that I could cling to, so the porch became my trying out ground. Every day, wearing the skates, I clung to the wooden railings, and for a few minutes I rolled back and forth on the left side of the porch where a bench sat.

One day, I got brave enough to tackle the sidewalk. There was nothing to cling to, so I lost my balance and landed in my mother’s flower bed. That was definitely not a good place to fall. I squashed mom’s favorite plants and scraped my knees, legs, and elbows. Luckily, I didn’t break break any bones, only my ego. I did my best to fix mom’s plants, but still got a mild reprimand. When I recovered from the scratches and soreness garnered from the unexpected landing in Mom’s garden, I shifted my skating routine to the driveway. But I wasn’t skating. I was walking with skates. (Yes. You may laugh.) It took me a while to learn how to skate on the rough surfaces of the driveway and the sidewalk. I say, ‘a while’ because it took some time for Mom’s plants to recover. Yes! The plants survived. I earned Mom’s forgiveness, and I learned how to skate on rough terrain with an old pair of dilapidated skates. Yay!

So, why did I write about a pair of old roller skates? The skates remind of ‘the good old times’, those days when family and friends enjoyed each other’s company, even though, we lived in an impoverished neighborhood. I miss the ‘good old days’, especially now because I’m losing the last of my siblings to alzheimer’s.