Skating for the Lord (by Mrs. G.)
Mrs. G 
Blessed Sacrament, Memphis, Tennessee
Mrs. G's Catholic grade school was sometimes as confining as the securely fastened top button of the regulation white, peter pan collared shirt which took shelter beneath her below-the-knee plaid jumper. Non-standard issue cable knit navy blue socks? No! Non-standard issue metallic barrettes? No! Non-standard issue unadorned girl lips? No! Parents and priests guzzling Johnny Walker at the school's annual Las Vegas Night? Hell yes!
Mrs. G. loved her little school of 80 kids, but weekdays were ruled by God, Father Stritch and Sister Ada Marie.
But Friday nights? Friday nights during seventh and eighth grade, Mrs. G. and her fellow classmate and Sister in Christ, Connie, unlaced their black and white saddle oxfords and worshipped at the wooden altar of Skateland.
As holy a roller rink as Memphis had to offer, Skateland was a sanctuary of free wheeling fun. Satan didn't rule the joint, but, Reader, he was in the house.
First stop: the girl's bathroom. Mrs. G. and Connie would fluff up their flat, angel winged hair with a wide handled comb, hitch up their painter pants and shellac their lips with a contraband Kissing Slick. Mascara and eye-shadow were surely tempting, but all traces of floozitude had to be erased before they climbed back into one of their mother's eyesight cars. A spritz or six six six of Heaven Scent and they were ready to roll.
And that's what they did. From seven to ten (with a quick breather for a frozen mini pizza and a cherry Icee), they rolled.
Much like today, Mrs. G. lacked moves. Connie could skate backwards and had the courage to glide to the center with all the polyester panted hotdoggers who owned their skates. Connie cut a decent figure eight. Mrs. G. just rolled straight ahead, round and round, mesmerized by the silver spangled disco ball and silently praying for a Journey song.
She never stopped believin'.
A hymn of sorts.
Skateland offered two Catholic girls a safe and sound liberation. There was little risk besides the occasional "cool" dad trolling for jailbait. Friday nights were as predictable as Sunday Mass. Skateland similarly sealed the sound and smell of adolescence. Along side incense and organ music abide stale indoor/outdoor carpet and rubber on wood. It was innocent sin on open terrain.
Five minutes to ten, Mrs. G. and Connie's first stop would be their last. They headed back into the girl's bathroom to deflate their hair and unslick their lips.
And just like that, it was ten o'clock and Connie's mother was outside waiting in the Cutlas.
Catholic school and Catholicism were good to Mrs. G. and Connie. They've discussed it. Their memories are wholesome and good.
But Skateland had some serious moments.
Mrs. G. has rarely felt so close to God as when she was whorling around the rink, bangs flapping in the sweaty wind, to the soul whomping chant of We are the Champions.
It was Free Will and Free Skate.
Reader Comments (20)
Oh, Mrs. G., how you take me back. Painter's pants, wide handled combs, Kissing Slicks. All you're missing is a little spritz of Love's Baby Soft. Thanks for the ride in the time machine.
My moment with God at the skating rink was with Ballroom Blitz! One time I TRIED to shoot the duck...and nearly had my arm broken. After that, I stuck with circling the rink. Was there a sadder moment in my life when the boy I so desperately loved couldn't even STAND on roller skates, let alone hold my hand and make me look tres cool to the Couples Skate song? I don't think so.
Oh wow, I lived at the skating rink during the 70' while in jr high and high school...Thank you for the memories...we wore ditto's pants, Charlie perfume, and way too much Bonnie Bell lip smacker...
Gotta love Norman Greenbaum Spirit in the sky!
Oh, how I used to pray at the skating rink...."please, oh, please, let someone ask me to couple-skate."
I live in East Memphis not far from where Skateland used to be. Unfortunately, it got a little crispy a couple of years ago and they chose not to rebuild. MAJOR bummer.
P.S. I think the skate sign is still there, though...
Mrs. G. was cooler than me; I only went to the roller rink under duress... er, um... someone's party. And then I did my best to stop clinging to the wall by the end of the 2 or 3 hour torture session.
so. very. awesome.
I think that God was pleased with your holy rolling!
Oh, my Dear!!!
What a wonderful memory---my Aunt and Uncle lived just off Mendenhall, and they'd take my three girl cousins and me to Skateland on Summer almost every visit. Then Cousin Barb got her driver's license, and we went by ourselves. Freedom and sin.
I, too, glided mostly around and around, with the wistful fancy of a skate-renter---it was as sharp a segregation as the Star-Belly Sneeches, and just as powerful. Those city girls in their white highs, with the pompoms dancing on the front and the LIGHTS on some of them---I swear, every time I see a little one stomping down the street, Reeboks flashing, I can hear the strains of "Summer Place" and "Whole Lotta Shakin".
My cousins owned theirs, and had to teach me the protocols---TRIOS on the flashing sign sent the three of them out like baby Rockettes, arms crossed, and fancy fan-kicks attracting cute boys from all over. PROMENADE had every one of them arm-in-arm with one of the above swains. (I confess a few skates-with-a-stranger myself---the scent of Canoe and those wiry arm muscles and hand-grips and pumping thighs taking us flying around the floor---oh, my---I think I need to go get my lacy fan).
ALL SKATE on the flashing sign meant I could join the fray alone---all the wallflowers poured onto the floor, and it was Hell-for-Leather as we joined that orchestra of surging bodies and skimming feet, like a carousel marathon of ecstatic runners.
I just loved this piece---all your naughty preparations and hasty, modest repair of your innocent look before the pumpkin arrived. OH, I could hit the floor RIGHT NOW.
I'm delighted to see that your Skateland survived---last time I was there, ours had been made into a Gattas, Nothing they could sell could ever top that feeling of flying along with the flock, hearing the surf of the wheels and the boom of the speakers, young again at last.
Our roller rink was (and still is) called Skateland, too - but it had a fancy-schmancy blue fiberglass floor.
I loved the Shoot the Duck competition - I was really, really good and very often won a wooden nickel, which was good for a treat (my fave was a frozen malt) from the snack bar.
I was a fan of the lip gloss that came in the glass tube with a roller ball applicator. I can feel that stickiness on my lips to this very day!
The first roller rink in our small town was in a tent at the city park. On cold days, they would fire up one of those heaters-on-wheels to try and warm the drafty old place. It put out the most gosh awful smell imagineable, and was probably giving off all kinds of toxic fumes! All of the young girls would peek out the holes in the tent admiring the older bad boys sitting on their cars outside smoking cigs. After a few years, we got a new skating rink in real live building, but it was never the same as the old tent.
Mostly what I remember about the skating rink are the mean girls. You know the ones... they'd zero in on the love of your life (who was oblivious to you) and torture you all Saturday afternoon while they couple-skated with him over & over.
Did I mention... I had to bring my little brother along? sheesh..
My parents NEVER allowed me to go to the skating rink. They were convinced that hoodlums and lowlifes spent their weekends there, and that kids left unattended would always find mischeif. Turns out, "bad" girls went there to get hickies and heaven only knows what else every Friday night. So, years later, my husband and I get the crazy idea to go skating at a new rink in our town. The fathers of all the little girls looked at him like he was some kind of freak and we haven't gone back. Oh, and I have ZERO skating skills whatsoever. This is what happens when you grow up on a gravel road and your parents are crazy...
Oh, for the days when lip gloss was exciting! We felt so naughty putting it on....
I have never been to a roller rink. Which is strange because every Friday night of my senior year my mother thought I was at the all-night skate at our Skateland.
@Violet--that was my lip gloss, too. Was it Bonne Belle?
Heaven Scent!
I was a skate owner, but mine had My Little Ponies emblazoned on the side. Kind of messes with your street cred.
Ha! I still have a small bottle of Heaven Scent that is about 20 years old. Still wear it on occasion for old time's sake.
I've recently started skating again. I highly recommend it!
Mrs. G!! I feel so close to you, knowing you were a roller skating girl. I went as many Friday and Saturday nights from 4th-6th grade as I could (and if they ended in a slumber party, the night was just magical).
I wasn't escaping parochial school but it was my first time being anywhere without chaperones. We'd pay a little extra for the cool "speed skates" (low-top, black with white stripes - like the kids on the skate team wore when they competed). We drank suicides, natch. And if there wasn't a cute boy to couple-skate with, we skated with each other, because we were BFF!
During "sock-hop" we'd take off our skates and dance in the middle of the rink, while others skated around us. We'd stretch and practice contortionism in order to win the limbo contest, request our favorite songs from the DJ ("Push It" by Salt N Pepa was huge) and at 10pm, if you paid an extra dollar, you could get a skate with "2nd" stamped on your hand, and stay for "2nd session" - until MIDNIGHT!!! The coolest kids, of course, stayed for 2nd session. I was able to do this a few times after begging my parents.
My dad tells a great story of the time we went to a church-sponsored skate party. I was very young at the time so he lifted me up to the raised DJ booth so I could request a song. I asked for "Like a Virgin" and the DJ said no - he apologized and said he'd likely get fired if he played that song right then.
Ahh, skating. It was the best ever. Ever!!
Jeff and Ronie..the two guys that Colleen and I met on our rollerskating escapades.....both guys with perfectly blonde feathered hair and really tight jeans. Oh I wished my hair was as perfect as Jeff's was. Great memories!! Thanks Violet for bringing back the memory of the lip gloss with the roller ball applicator..I too can remember the stickiness, the taste and the shine...oh the shine!!
What a lot of memories. I, too, lived and breathed skating. Our rink was called Stardust.
I remember the thrill of finally getting my own skates for Christmas: white with blue wheels! I swear I nearly knocked myself out carrying them (slung over the shoulder) on the bus and down to the rink every week.
I remember A LOT of lip gloss, in soda flavors. And yes, the roller-ball applicators that would get gummed up with whatever else was in your pocket at the time. Usually Kleenex lint.
tamand mentioned the "mean girls". No kidding! How the heck did they manage to get asked to skate in EVERY couples skate, while we were all crying in the bathroom over whatever it was that we cried about back then? Oh, to have those problems again...