Winter meant hockey while growing up

Maybe it's because there has been mega coverage of high school hockey in the state and region the past weeks . . . along with the fact that I do watch what and where the UND Fighting Hawks are as their season comes to a close.

And, just maybe all that brought back a lot of memories for me as a kid. The sport of hockey was not organized in the winter sandlot days at our large pond close to where I grew up.

And back then, we played a lot of hockey in the winter months as ice skating and snow shoveling kept us kids busy on the home turf.

I'm saying it was in the early 1950s when my buds, Glenn and Dave Solberg and others, and I were introduced to the sport; mainly due to the older guys in our city who attended UND. They watched the Sioux and brought the sport back to our hometown.

And, did they ever bring it home to us kids!

If you remember, I mentioned in this column a few times that our skating rink was located just a half-block north of my home. Looking out the front room window, I could see the many, many kids who took advantage of the city-maintained rink which stretched out to a half-block in size. It was big, and I watched as I practiced my piano lessons and did my Sunday School homework.

Oh, yes, we did have to shovel it off, too, as the city tractor always left a thin coat of snow on the ice, not good for playing ice games or hockey!

So, the big boys brought hockey to us little guys, then we went down to the local Gambles Hardware store where they sold hockey sticks. I'm guessing I bought my own stick from the money I saved from delivering newspapers, the Minneapolis Star and Minneapolis Tribune, the Sunday edition. Another story!

With sticks in hand, us young guys would practice moving the puck up and down the ice after school and at night, as it was a well-lit rink with lights on until 10 p.m. A fine, small cook car was transformed into a warming house where the jolly old Eddie Witt kept the warming fires going. Lignite coal was the fuel, stacked neatly in the west end of the building.

So us "little guys" practiced with stick and pucks awaiting the weekends when the college guys would come home. They worked with us and we got better as time went on.

For myself, I had skated for many years and considered myself a good skater. I could handle a stick and puck pretty well. Backwards or forwards, I could move on the ice with a stick. But the older guys thought we were too small to play with them up and down the hockey area which was marked off from the other area reserved for open skating.

So, while we couldn't get into the action on the ice, they utilized us as goaltenders. (As if that was a safe place to be, especially with no masks or padding!) The older guys fired pucks at us strong and hard, but kept them at a low level from the waist on down.

And, that was the cause for concern.

Many times I went home with blood-soaked long johns and jeans, the result of pucks hitting me in the legs. But it didn't matter to me, I was playing hockey with the big boys.

Mom would many times patch up the cuts in my legs, only to be ready for the next time on the ice. I only wonder, now, how we ever stayed away from a stick or puck in the face!

But it was Dad who found out about my minor injuries and as a tough, old German, he would tell of his days skating and cuts and bruises he had taken while skating on frozen rivers in Germany as a kid. And then he had an idea.

Dad went downstairs and brought up a pair of leather leggings that fit my legs from the knee on down. He used to wear them in his blacksmith shop to keep his pant legs from catching on fire while working on the forges and welding and cutting.

We strapped them on. They fit well and I placed them over my long johns and under my jeans. I took many hits in later action, but never another cut to worry about. Finally, I had some padding!

The older guys from UND build regulation-size goals, painted boundary lines on the ice, and the area provided an outlet for many years of fun on the local pond.

But then, our rink was not just for hockey. We had other games we played on the ice which also included the many girls who spent time there, too. I could list names, but they are too many to mention. But Betty Larson, Sharon Engbrecht, Janice Miller, Sandy Kro, Jordis Kro, and Connie Solberg were a few who were always there.

And while the rink offered us plenty of fun in the winter time, there were also times when some of us kids found an alternate pond for skating. It was the James River, six miles north of city. Talk about a spacious rink!

The river was dammed up, huge in size and offered us the challenge of skating west almost to Manfred. Being careful for open water, we all made it through without an accident.

A few daytime outings at the river, but we skated most of the time at night . . . under the moonlight.

Ice skating just doesn't get much better than that.

An older photo I came across here in the office was published last week. It was a picture of the roller skaters and their show at Rainbow Gardens.

I placed that photo in the mid to late 1950s, about the time when roller skating was just beginning in the area and several area roller rinks were open to the public.

I remember rinks here, Bowdon, Cathay, New Rockford, Bremen, Heimdal and Fessenden during those years. Most of the places I myself frequented to enjoy roller skating, too.

At Fessenden, and at other venues, the Roths, Ellen and Walter, were in charge and taught many, many young kids to skate. During the skating season, we skated at the Festival Hall in Fessenden where Ellen took time to tutor me in the finer steps of roller/dancing. Light on her feet, Ellen (bless her soul) brought plenty of enjoyment for me in the second style of skating, that of wheels.

With my ice skates put away, I did attempt once more later in life to try roller skates. That was in 1977 when a group of us "older" people rented the Armory for a skating night.

And, yes, the wheels still worked out but balance was off a bit.

The floor was damn hard!