Sunday, July 31, 2022

Stardust Roller Rink

I'm not sure I ever skated/held hands at Richmond's Stardust Roller Rink. There have been more than a couple of roller rinks in my life, but the one I remember best was in Renton, a suburb of Seattle where, as a twelve year old, our Kerrisdale soccer team did a weekend exchange with a Renton team, and it was the Renton team that hosted us first.

Renton was still largely rural, with rundown factories and lands with once-grand houses on them. I was billeted with a family of nine kids (4 -18), of which the middle child, who was deaf, was my host. This boy was very sweet and got by without hearing aids (he would gently turn your head so he could read your lips), despite having aids for parts of the first years of his life, before the church that purchased them took them back after the mother was caught in flagrante delicto with the deacon. All nine kids lived in a massive attic separated by hanging sheets. At some point during the second night the fourteen year old sister came into my bed, wrapped her arms around me and cried against my back.

The big night out was the second night, when we went to the local roller rink. I remember the feeling underfoot (wooden wheels on wood that felt like butter) and the music. But of all the songs, the one I remember best, the song the DJ played more than once, was the song that seemed written for roller rinks, and that was Billy Swan's "I Can Help". 

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