Growing up, I wanted to be Sonja Henie. Her name may be unfamiliar to anyone born after the 1960s, but she was a glamorous figure skater from Norway who won more Olympic and World titles than any other ladies figure skater. I also liked watching her in movies such as Sun Valley Serenade. At the height of her acting career she was one of the highest paid stars in Hollywood.

I was not alone in my fantasies. Many young girls dreamed of growing up to be prima skaters. To learn and practice ice skating, our options locally were the State Fair Grounds Coliseum, the iced-over baby pool at Broad Ripple Park (now gone), the pond at Lake Sullivan (near Major Taylor Velodrome), or the frozen pool at the at the base of Monument Circle.

As you can surmise from the sites I have identified, only the indoor Coliseum rink lent itself to attempts at a "Sonja Henie performance." Outdoor ice sheets were rough and bumpy. Even though gangs of guys playing ice hockey found Lake Sullivan quite suitable, we figure skaters with jagged points on the end of our skate blades were unable to show our turns and stops with elegance on an uneven ice surface. Cold weather would often force us to shorten our afternoon skating sessions. And then there were the two pairs of socks - one cotton and one wool-woolen leggings (double wool-lined pants) worn under wool skirts, sweaters, coats, scarves, and gloves; it's a wonder we could maneuver at all! Looking back, Sonja always just wore tights, a skating skirt, and some kind of gorgeous head piece. I guess that's why she was so good, and we "wanna-bes" could only dream.

Evening skating was usually reserved for Broad Ripple Park. Although that iced-over pool was probably small, my memory retains a picture of lots of kids going every which way. . . sometimes forward, backward, and of course, down. The starry evenings often were illuminated by the glow of a bonfire at the far end of the pool. We would have to stop every so often to warm up. Skating was accompanied by the laughter of kids, buzz of chaperoning parents, and night noises while skating at the Coliseum had the dreamy atmosphere of organ music and an announcer. Now and then the speaker system blared, "It's a boys-only skate" or "This skate is a reverse. Change directions." Inevitably came the call, "It's time to clean the ice. Everyone clear the rink." We girls adored the moment when the announcer said, "Boys, it's time to dance on ice with the girls." To be prepared, we'd try to talk our mothers into buying or making a cute skating skirt. I would add a fresh coat of white polish and bright tassels to my figure skates. Getting noticed at the rink was an important part of the whole occasion.

While we have professional ice shows visit our city these days, in my childhood it was our local young skaters and teachers who put on the Ice Capades. This was sort of an annual recital, a chance for every young girl and boy to strut their skills and feel connected to the figure skating world of professionals and Hollywood. Choreography, costumes, lighting, and themes were all a part of these local productions. The audience was always full of families, relatives, and friends who enjoyed the Ice Capades as a chance to see how their favorite performer had advanced. Every skater- in a corps of flowers, whip line, or soloist―gave his or her best to the show.

I never became Sonja Henie, I never skated in an Ice Capades (my sister did), and I do not skate today. Nevertheless, skating gave me memories that are as vivid as if the experiences had happened yesterday. When I tune into a figure skating program on TV, my thoughts always go right back to my childhood skating days. Wouldn't it be fun if we had a skating rink in Broad Ripple today?