- sparkles

The competition today is in Anaheim at Disney Ice; it's one of the largest competitions in Southern California with five or six hundred skaters spread across five days. My daughter skates a short program in the morning and then her long program that afternoon. To avoid the locker room crazies she puts on her performance costume at home. As we get in the car before sunrise I ask the usual checks: do you have extra tights? Your music?

What with all of the preparation, coaching, skate sharpening, clothes, filming, practice tights, transportation, snacks, photos, music, ballet instruction, stretching, makeup, hair scrunchies, and performance costumes, it finally all comes together as we head down the I-5. As I drive she applies the final touches to her makeup in the passenger visor mirror. The clouds clear and the sun rises, reflecting off of the sparkles in her sequin dress, filling up the interior of the car with thousands of small moving rainbows. Deep breath.

- between good and great

The other day I was watching my daughter do a strange kind of spin with her foot out to the side. I asked her what it was called and she replied "a broken leg sit-spin." Okay. But I told her that the arms weren't correct: they didn't look right. I was clueless on how to refine them, but I also wanted her to wait until after her ankle surgery (and recovery) before working on the maneuver's arm detailing.

She skated another half hour or so, and as I walked around the rink I realized *ping* how the arms should be. I revisualized a memory of something that I had seen a pro do some time long ago. After my daughter got off the ice and changed into her street shoes I called her into the ballet room and showed her (in private) how the arms should be: stretch over to the side, torso tilted sideways. It's meant to be a big horizontal sweeping motion. She commented "well if the arms are wrong I can always work on them separately and then change them later."

But what I realized the next day (and didn't tell her) was that, no, for some moves the aspect of the arms and body posture are integral to the move. In fact they define the effect more than the leg positions. I also realized something deeper than this though: the best skaters use all of their body parts as a means of artistic expression; they visualize what they are trying to express first and then see if they can accommodate it into the physics of skating.

My daughter is still looking at it in terms of discrete moves to accomplish: sit spin, back camel, Bielman, double Axel. But I recognize that what separates the famous skaters from those just temporarily at the top of their sport is that the famous skaters transcend the moves -- they master them, but then they move on. They incorporate the moves into their intended communication and effusion, rather than trying to imbue the individual moves with their expressions.

In other words rather than using expressions that they apply as a toolset to their moves, they instead internalize the moves and then use them as the tools of their expression.

Well, I don't even know if it's proper for me to discuss this with my daughter -- it actually has to come from her own soul. And it also has to happen after her surgery. And it's also dangerous: it creates an environment where expression can get ahead of physics and result in crashes.

So these were all of my thoughts, but I never said a word more to her about them.

- pair oddities

Pairs skating has some almost impossible demands upon modern men: throws require that the strength and size of the male partner be significantly greater than the female. But this causes severe stress during synchronized moves. It's one of the great mysteries of that particular event. Plus, more than any of the dance events, pairs end up with the greatest mismatches within the skill levels of the partners. Partly because of the rigorous demands on the male, but there is also a very subtle interplay in the mechanics of "partnering"... the hooking up, if you will.

- immersed in the coldness

As I fasten the top button on my collar to ward off the cold, I watch my daughter out on center-ice practice her sit-spin. She's been in the rink for a couple of hours by now, but I just wandered in about five minutes ago. I don't fathom how she can stand the cold; I guess it's because she is active out on the ice. As she spins and sits I think to myself "keep your hip up" and she does, then getting almost all the way down she switches the down-foot, spins for a while, and then clumsily arises while running out of torque. She skates a couple feet over to her right and then looks down at the ice to inspect the spiral marks from her skates.

I sit next to one of the skatemoms. That's what we call each other: the skatedads and the skatemoms. It's always the same folks, sitting on the enclosed boxed-bench for the hockey team or, depending on the rink, up in the stands. After a while we recognize each other by our jackets. Our kids are out on the ice in tights, a skirt, and a short sleeved blouse, while we're bundled up in a jacket while our legs and feet freeze. We backpack our skatemom accessories: a videocamera, a book to read, a laptop computer to occupy our time. We cradle cups of hot chocolate.

Usually it's just one of the parents at the rink. For some kids it's always the skatemom, and the dad is never there (this is the usual situation). I figure the dad is off at work or home watching TV. It doesn't make a lot of sense to have both of the parents there sitting around, so most of the time it's the skatemom. But a couple of us skatedads make an occasional appearance as well.

The skatemoms usually sit around the rink the whole time their kid is on the ice... they'll chat amongst themselves, or talk on their cell phone, or talk to a coach. The skatedads tend to wander around.... they'll appear for a little bit and then wander away, maybe go to a coffee shop, or go back to work for a little bit. Then they'll reappear again and observe for half an hour before they need to take their kid home.

Sometimes when I'm sitting by the ice watching my daughter, I'm really struck by how cold it is just sitting there. I'll notice it first in a general feeling of chill, and I'll zip my jacket up to the top, and then button the top collar button. After another ten minutes or so the cartilage edging my ears will begin to tingle. I'll place my hands over my ears -- a monkey in a hear-no-evil pose -- while my ears warm a little. This saves my ears from being in too much pain for another five minutes or so, but then I'll have to retreat over to the shelter of the heated Icebreaker Lounge, complete with it's video games and pre-packaged pizza.

We freeze a little so that our kids can warm their souls.