From Ice on Morse to Dreams of Olympic Glory

Think back to age 10. What did you fathom as the fate of your future? Had a notion to be a nurse, a tendency toward teaching or aspirations as an astronaut? 

For me, I dreamed of becoming the next Dorothy Hamill. Every weekend, I strapped on the best Christmas gift ever – a pair of real leather Riedell’s – and owned the ice on Morse Reservoir. 

Frank Zamboni may have invented his famous ice resurfacing machine in 1949, but my grandfather, Chalmer Hoover, had his own code for clearing the cove at Carrigan bridge. The prep of that prodigious pond nearly surpassed the icy adventures ahead! Grandpa would douse the lake’s surface with gasoline, light it on fire, and voila! Mr. Zamboni had nothing on my grandpa, who rigged up not one, but two rinks – one for figure skating and one for hockey. (The tomboy I was, I divided my time between both.)

Along with laying out the lake, we crafted a campfire for hotdogs and marshmallows, lugged out a giant jug of hot chocolate, laced up and lingered for hours of free ice time. I logged a lot of time trying to tackle a toe loop, complete a camel spin and land my first actual axel.

A few years and many bumps and bruises later, I saved up enough sewing and mowing money for skating lessons at a real rink. I set my sights on the new, state-of-the-art Carmel Ice Skadium. It was here that I was taught first how to fall, then how to land. Such basic skill-building blinded my vast vision of variable stunts and sit spins. By now, I was plundering past my prime as a competent competitor and was being passed up by kids HALF my age. My dream was dying a slow death, but my passion for the ice persisted. I continued coveting the Ice Capades, watching the wonder of the Winter Olympics and strapping on my well-worn Riedell’s every chance I got.  

My itch for the ice re-emerged with my first born, Erin. Conveniently, we lived a mere mile from the Hancock Recreational Center in Findlay (Ohio), whose ice rink hailed as home to the Silver Blades Figure Skating Club. I scooped up my skater-to-be, headed to HRC and became a skating mom. At the ripe old age of 18 months, my toddler took to the ice, and once again I beamed at the dream. But alas, by age 4, Erin lost her luster for the sport. Once again, my raison d’être was reduced to dust … zapped like a Zamboni clearing the ice.  

Soon thereafter, I began working on my Master’s at Bowling Green State University, where I returned to the realm of the rink. Home to my hero, Scott Hamilton, I too was a frequent flyer at BGSU’s Slater Family Ice Arena. While my focus on fancy footwork, spins and spirals were laid to rest in my rearview mirror, I still enjoyed those simple, gleeful glides across the ice in my adulthood.

Today the fear of broken bones bars me from becoming the next Dorothy Hamill (who’s nearing 70 herself). Yes, dreams may fade, but my many memories on Morse and spanning a lifetime are firmly etched forever in my heart. I may be the child of a much earlier era, but I’m borrowing the battle cry of the ‘80s…

“Skate or die, dude!”

Can You Relate is a column from Noblesville High School grad Branna (McCarty) Shores. Branna believes that “HOME is where your story begins.” A Noblesville native and proud alum of NHS and Purdue, she is a professional speaker, advocate for mental health and work / family balance and retired social worker. Branna is the mother of two grown daughters, six precious grandchildren and wife of one brave husband! Her passions include singing, writing and sharing the lighter side of life through lessons learned, both personally and professionally. She can be contacted at branna18@gmail.com