December 14, 2015 – When I was little I loved being taken to the park to go sledding. This little Christmas ornament always reminds me of those winters, my parents, and the fun we had on the hills.
In particular, I think that we were a bit tougher back then. I remember being sent down the hill, crashing into trees, wailing up the hill, bleeding, and having my parents clean me up and send me back down the hill again, laughing.
I also remember a time later when Kirk and I took a long wooden toboggan out for a slide, somewhere out towards Northwood. We picked up a friend and went to the top of a very big hill. At the bottom was what was clearly a very significant jump.
We put Duane on the front…and about halfway down we both bailed and left him to fly at top speed to the bottom of the hill…and onto that jump…and we watched him launch.
He flew and flew and flew.
And when he landed finally, nothing nice came out of his mouth, but we couldn’t stop laughing.
Duane refused to get on a toboggan with us again.
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We definitely were tougher. I remember riding all the way down a hill on my face under a tube that I started on top of. My dad took pictures of my wrecked face. Good time…good times.
Rainbow hill, and the mounds on cul de sacs from street graders, staying out too long, minor frostbite…laughing all the way…..
The boy had a great yardsale the other day over a jump, both boots, one mitt and his touque all went flying in different directions.