When I arrived at the Arctic Circle for my lesson on Thursday afternoon, Gina and her boyfriend greeted me at the door as they posted banners and painted the front window in preparation for the rink’s Grand Opening Ice Show. Although the place opened the previous January, Pete obviously preferred to stage this event during the fall when people’s thoughts turn toward Thanksgiving and the Holiday season, often including ice skating in their cool weather festivities.

“Hi, Kate,” Janelle offered from behind the rental counter. She sat on a barstool with a pile of fabric in her lap working with needle and thread.

“You make your own costumes?” I asked studying the materials.

“Well, kind of.” Janelle shook out the fabric and held it up for my evaluation. “I buy ready-made leotards, sew the crotch closed and decorate them. I’m adding a skirt to this one.” She spread the black cotton bodysuit on the counter with a few pieces of fuchsia chiffon she had cut into petal shapes. Janelle demonstrated how the petals would form a skirt based on the one that she had already affixed to the waistline. She did not bother to hem the chiffon, a sheer fabric that tends to unravel. Loose threads already dangled from the petals. Intended for stage, the costume would only be viewed from a distance; therefore, finishing was not as critical as for street clothes that would be worn in close proximity to other people. However, those filaments could easily free themselves from the chiffon skirt during a spin, drop to the ice and create a serious blade hazard. Rather than imposing my knowledge of clothing construction on Janelle, I said the skating dress would be lovely when complete. It probably would look attractive under bright lights as Janelle landed an impressive axel or double jump.

I looked forward to the show because I had seen so little of Janelle’s skating. Janelle did not have to demonstrate her more advanced skills during my beginner lessons. However, she occasionally took to the ice during a crowded Saturday session, often after Pete’s urging. He thought a pretty figure skater showing off the sport’s beauty for a crowd of stiffs could generate additional business, because every observer represented a potential student for the rink’s beginner class or private lessons. Gina and Janelle alternated this responsibility. Wearing jeans and a sweater, Janelle’s long strawberry blonde ponytail formed a streamer behind her as she cleared a path through the throng of recreational skaters. Children moved away from the center as she approached preparing to showcase a dazzling skill. With no warm-up other than a few strokes around the rink, Janelle lifted into a glorious flying camel. Her legs stretched high and straight, parallel to the ice below. She landed in a back camel of fantastic speed and perfect position. To conclude the demonstration, she pivoted out of the camel into a backspin, first with the free leg held straight for a few anticipatory revolutions before pulling into a fast backward scratch spin. The little children who formed a ring several members deep around the former competitor cheered and applauded. Even the Lawrence adults clapped politely, having never seen actual figure skating in person before.

Completely transfixed by my instructor’s skill, I stood motionless on the ice. If I ever learned anything as difficult and impressive as a flying camel, I would do the move incessantly enjoying the sensation of flight and rotation. Her proficiency made me feel small and insignificant on the rented skates, as my new ones still had not arrived. I realized how much I had to learn before ever attempting a flying camel. I could not spin on one foot or even land a waltz jump, but I looked like a good skater compared with the other adults who frequented the Arctic Circle. I could skate fast and do lovely turns that passed as footwork to the uninformed. Janelle, who was about my age, had skated since she was six years old. She benefited from a considerable head start.

The week preceding the show brought a couple of new professional skaters to the Arctic Circle ice arena. I came to the rink in the afternoon to escape the drudgery of my new research project and observed a mature man with a compact muscular body skillfully skating around the tiny rink. He leaped into a dramatic delayed axel that suspended in an open position for a breathtaking moment before contracting into rotation. Although I had seen Janelle display her prowess with an expert flying camel and clean axel, She did nothing to compare with the monumental jumps performed by this man who could have been her father. He spoke to a woman who appeared about his age, though less beautifully preserved. She circled the ice and vaulted into a perfect split jump then landed a small axel that rotated very quickly.

I learned from Pete that this married couple performed in his ice show as well as other well-known ice reviews. Stephanie took a lesson with Randall, which I observed as intently as possible without looking as though I should have purchased a ticket or brought binoculars. In the couple of months since I met Stephanie, she learned a basic one-foot spin and moved on to waltz jumps and toe loops. None of her skills were impressive or well executed, but she progressed with determination and diligence, working on each element during every session she skated. Stephanie took a methodical approach that appeared tedious to me. She progressed systematically through her elements as though each skill provided a foundation for the next. Although she claimed to enjoy skating, she worked with the unemotional stoicism of a student whose parents forced her to study.

Randall watched Stephanie execute each move in her repertoire, then demonstrated more polished technique. He entered a scratch spin from an inside three-turn instead of the conventional backward crossover windup, showing Stephanie how to generate maximum acceleration by raising his free thigh parallel to the ice before pulling into the spin. The student attempted this spin in slow motion. Although Stephanie failed to display command of the scratch spin, Randall proceeded to the sit spin, which he completed in an exquisite position close to the ice. Persistent Stephanie squatted, unsure of how to place her legs and revolved awkwardly. She seemingly delighted the pro with what must have been a commendable first attempt. After a few more sit spins, Randall introduced the camel spin. Randall’s camel turned smoothly in a textbook position, changing effortlessly to an outside edge, a detail he did not point out to Stephanie. After at least forty years of skating, elusive outside edge rotation occurred naturally for Randall. He might have struggled to remain on the inside edge, utilizing the basic technique common among intermediate skaters. Stephanie’s first camel looked like a backward spiral on a deep inside edge. It did not rotate at all, but she dove enthusiastically into the position, as she did for months to come, adding the new skills to her practice agenda.

I asked Pete for a lesson with the visiting pro. Unfortunately, Pete explained that between rehearsals and pre-arranged lessons, Randall already had a full schedule. I was disappointed then angry. Why did Stephanie and other clients get first consideration for this professional’s time when I did not even know he was coming to town until I saw him land a delayed axel on Pete’s claustrophobic rink? I walked away from the owner trying not to fume. There was no other place to skate in Lawrence and surrounding vicinity, so I dared not alienate Pete.

Always a quick thinker where money was concerned, Pete called after me: “You can have a lesson with Willa, Randall’s wife.”

I pictured the fifty-year-old woman’s remarkable split jump and agreed immediately.

The next afternoon, I returned for my lesson with Willa. As a beginning skater, I knew nothing of the ethical code that guided skating instructors. By taking a lesson with Willa without informing Janelle, who could be considered my coach after only a few lessons, I had committed a cardinal sin in the figure skating world. Willa had not solicited my business in an effort to steal me and my money from Janelle. I had actually approached Pete for a lesson with her husband, and Pete referred me to Willa with no concern for Janelle. Most skating instructors function as independent contractors, often teaching at more than one rink and working additional jobs including occasional professional performances or coaching gigs for private schools or organizations. In general, coaches do not draw a regular salary from an arena and are subject to income variations depending on public interest in skating, Olympic year enthusiasm, students quitting or moving to different coaches, cancelled lessons and seasonal highs and lows. As independent agents, these professionals commonly pay a percentage of their hourly rate to the host rink as commission. Realizing that I wanted to purchase an additional lesson; Pete did not care if his cut came from Randall, Willa or Janelle.

Janelle was not in the rink when I came for my extracurricular lesson, nor did it seem to effect my relationship with her. All of the Arctic Circle regulars took additional lessons from Randall and Willa during the week of the ice show. Pete undoubtedly thought “guest coaches” were good for business.

Willa had very little to work with when teaching my lesson. In addition to reviewing basic skills and three-turns, Janelle spent the bulk of her instructional time trying to get me to do a one-foot spin. At least I skated around the rink with strength and confidence, suggesting I could be trained. Willa stopped me before I entered my two-foot spin. Gliding over, she whispered into my ear as though repeating a dirty joke, “Let me show you another way. That looks beginnerish.”

I had skated forward and parted my legs for a sloppy inside spread eagle before pulling into the spin. Willa demonstrated a glide on both feet that curved inward toward the ultimate position of the spin. As her edges deepened, Willa flourished her arm, pushed with the outside foot and pivoted into a fast, well-centered two-foot spin. Willa called this a “hockey glide”, and I learned it readily. She taught me inside pivots, both backward and forward. I secured a toe pick into the ice creating a midpoint and, like a compass, scribed a circle with the inside edge of the skating blade. The pivots could stand alone as individual elements or be used as an entrance into a one or two-foot spin. From a forward inside pivot around my right toe pick, I lifted my left foot and completed a few insecure revolutions in the clockwise direction.

Thirty minutes passed like seconds, and my lesson with Willa ended. Using a different approach to the spinning problem, I made progress with Willa that had eluded me in Janelle’s lessons. In addition to years of experience as a performer, Willa also was an accomplished instructor who knew countless exercises to trick even the clumsiest student into executing basic maneuvers on ice skates. Janelle was still developing as a coach and had not established a catalog of teaching methods. Although I enjoyed learning from Janelle, I benefited from Willa’s input. After that lesson, my spins steadily improved, though I had yet to learn the coveted backward crossover spin preparation.

Neil’s parents came to South Carolina for a visit the weekend of the Arctic Circle Ice Show. We had not planned this coincidence, but they agreed to go to the performance with us. I would not have minded going alone; but, since our engagement, Neil’s parents began to display an interest in me. They honestly wanted to visit the place where I skated. Neil had many hobbies throughout his young life, all of which his parents supported until he cast them aside when a new pastime captured his imagination. By offering their future daughter-in-law a private lesson gift certificate for my birthday and attending the ice show, the two doctors duplicated the parental support usually showered upon Neil. After living on my own for several years while making my unenlightened way through the world, I had little interest in parental support, especially from people I barely knew. They were Neil’s family, and I loved Neil, but I had not established a bond with these two adults; and their simulated display of involvement meant nothing to me. Respecting their kindness, which I attributed entirely to manners rather than sincere emotion, I reciprocated politely by making casual conversation with the doctors, which felt awkward and forced. Nothing these well-intentioned people could do would make up for my own parent’s lack of participation in my childhood. Someday I might have grown to love Neil’s family, and they might have genuinely loved me as a daughter; but early in our engagement, after they fought to keep Neil from following me to Carolina Tech, I found their actions superficial and rehearsed. Maybe they decided to accept the inevitable, that Neil would grow into an independent young man capable of making his own decisions, instead of driving him away with resistance.

We had dinner in one of the better restaurants in Lawrence before the show. During the meal, I sat uncomfortably doing my best to maintain a warm, polite conversation. I did not dislike these people, but I knew they would have preferred a different mate for their beloved son, as they preferred a different university for his graduate studies. They often spoke of topics I did not understand, primarily the arts. My only exposure to classical entertainment came from the few performances I attended with them in Washington D.C. and a couple of undergraduate general education classes aimed at making every student a well-rounded person. My father thought the ballet was for snobs. While my mother would have liked to attend these events to hobnob with wealthy folk, she had to go with a women’s club composed of similar ladies who wished they married or were born into a different social stratum. Although classical music traditionally accompanies many figure skating programs, I developed little appreciation for it as a young person, preferring to skate in the garage or roller rink to pop tunes. At the Arctic Circle, Gina played popular music during public sessions interspersed with well-known Broadway scores, music that appealed to the masses. However, she rarely played country tapes that most Lawrence natives would have preferred. Rather than adopting an interest in the classics from Neil’s family, I gravitated toward modern country music, to which friends like Charlene and Elliot had exposed me.

I happily joined the crowd in the Arctic Circle building where it was too noisy to continue the senseless banter of courteous dinner conversation. Pete had not set up additional seating. There were no bleachers to accommodate the surprisingly large turnout. Sitting at the round tables near the ice was pointless since people lined the railing, completely obliterating the view of anything other than their backsides. Instead, kids stood on the tables to view the little rink from above. I wished we had arrived earlier to lean on the shiny red pipes fencing the ice. Neil’s parents spoke among themselves, apparently taken aback by the lack of appropriate seating. This was a hick town; not the Kennedy Center. What did they expect? Neil took his mother’s arm, following me to a less dense position in the crowd, where we stood waiting for the performance to begin.

Music began and the house lights dimmed in favor of theatrical illumination on the ice sheet. Pete glided out from behind a curtain at the far end of the rink holding a cordless microphone. I assumed the lighting and sound equipment was part of his gear for the traveling ice shows he supposedly produced in Latin America, though I still had not resolved that mystery. Pete wore a light blue jumpsuit highlighted with royal blue sequins around the neck and sleeves. The pastel color against his graying hair and obvious stage cosmetics made him look older and smaller, not to mention absolutely ridiculous. This outfit belonged on a novice boy competing in a regional or inter-club event. I did not blame Bernard and Elizabeth Fitch for exchanging amused glances.

Fern joined Pete for their first performance, an adagio pair routine. Her white jumpsuit matched Pete’s except it sparkled with silver sequins and was lower cut with a wisp of chiffon skirting draped about the waistline. They skated around the little rink as a cohesive, almost romantic unit. Their performance echoed ice dancing by employing various holds, deep edgework, and lifts that did not extend above Pete’s shoulders. Although Fern was a small woman, I doubted Pete could lift her much higher. Shrewdly filling time, they struck dramatic poses and carried them down the length of the rink, for all in attendance to admire from every possible angle. The only true pair element was a throw waltz jump, which Fern made look as beautiful as a triple. The Lawrence crowd gasped and applauded the low level pair skill. Fern also completed a layback spin with a poorly bent free leg as Pete circled her in an inside spread eagle. The effect of her spin coupled with him gliding around her in the opposite direction was captivating, impressive and conveniently easy to achieve.

Later in the show, Fern also skated alone showcasing a spin that I had watched her develop under Pete’s guidance. I thought the spin was hideous and never longed to duplicate it. A variation of a basic forward upright spin, Fern bent her skating knee and propped her free foot upon it. She moved her arms in quick chopping motions that supposedly would appear interesting under theater lights. To me, she looked like a squatting android wearing a silly white outfit.

Gina skated next in a bright green jumpsuit that glittered at the waistline and sleeve cuffs with shades of green sequins. It zipped up the front and sported a large stiff collar. An elasticized band of matching sequins adorned her forehead. The outfit looked like something Pete might have acquired from the wardrobe department of a 1970s variety show. Only Gina with her long, lean figure could get away with that costume. Anyone else would look like a superhero who had forgotten his cape. Gina skated a program devoid of jumps except for a mazurka, a jump involving a half rotation in which the skater achieves a cross-legged pose in the air. The mazurka is the quintessential jump for photographing skaters in action; it captures them airborne while preserving their smiling facial features. Gina claimed to dislike jumping; although she could do all of the singles, with the possible exception of the axel. She also could perform a gloriously stretched split jump, which she chose not to include her program. From difficult entrances such as sequential three turns, Gina spun in exquisite positions. On one foot, she completed a forward outside three-turn, then a backward inside three-turn to glide forward again on her outside edge. In a continuous series of these turns, she appeared to float across the ice before spinning in a beautifully extended camel.

Finally Janelle took the ice in her concocted skating dress. Although the dress could have looked pretty, the leotard seemed too small for Janelle’s mature body. The leg openings of the short-waisted bodysuit rode too high on her thighs and formed an uncomfortable bunch of fabric between the cheeks of her buttocks. Neil jabbed an elbow into my side and pointed shamelessly at Janelle as she touched her hand to the ice, saving a double salchow. A few of the stitches she had sewn securing the bodysuit’s snap crotch had pulled loose revealing her tights underneath. Contrasting the black leotard, their light color made it look like her underwear was showing. Neil snickered boyishly as though he had just witnessed a schoolgirl’s dress blowing up on the playground. Embarrassed for Janelle, I wondered if she had felt her costume tearing. Fortunately, the last stitches held and the garment did not spring free of her torso, exposing her private region to the Lawrence community. In spite of costume problems, Janelle landed a commendable axel and performed an attractive assortment of spins, omitting the potentially revealing camel. When she came out for her second number, the leotard had been fixed and she seemed to skate more freely, including her enviable flying camel and a couple more jumps.

The performances turned in by Randall and his wife, Willa, were the most spectacular parts of the show. Each completed exciting routines strewn with double jumps, axels, and fast spins. Willa exhibited several split jump variations including a stag leap and Russian split. She also executed a thrilling flying sit spin and series of butterfly jumps. Randall concluded his program of double jumps, delayed axels, and spin combinations with a blurred scratch spin. To make this spin extraordinarily difficult, he put his head straight back as his arms rose to shoulder level generating more speed. Randall’s head seemed to disappear behind his shoulders and arms. The amazed crowd cheered and applauded. I had never seen such an unusual and breathtaking spin.

The Doctors Fitch conceded that they enjoyed the show, in spite of the seating arrangements and tacky costumes. I barely heard their commentary, still enthralled by the magic of those people on the ice. I pictured myself in the Arctic Circle Ice Show doing a layback, flying camel and axel. The skaters performed again Saturday night and Sunday for a matinee. I attended the additional shows alone, leaving Neil to entertain his parents while I fantasized about the program I might perform someday.

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