Thursday, October 04, 2007


My son has been complaining for awhile about not having a skateboard. When I was a kid you bought skateboards at skate shops. The boards they sold at Fred Meyer were GrenTecs - total pieces of garbage closer in resemblance to a roller skate than a skateboard. I can't say why I didn't rush out to buy him a skateboard but it might have had something to do with my own fear of never being particularly good nor committed to it. Yet I must be all things to all people, so when around skateboarders I feel insecure. Even at forty. I'm not big on self-acceptance or mortality. I still secretly believe I'll get around to being good at skating, playing electric guitar and other mostly adolescent pursuits.
I know a lot of old school skaters, some of whom own shops, so I took Henry over to Rebel Skates to look at some boards. I ended up buying him a nice set up and a long board for myself. I've wanted a long board for a long time, but I didn't want to be an old guy that sucked. Now I have a perfect excuse as I'm just doing it for my son.
So we've been skating almost everyday. It feels really good to roll around. I've even gone without him - early this morning I had to go to a meeting near my house so I skated. As I slalomed down this hill I was wondering what the hell am I doing? If I wipe out it's going to hurt like hell. My son has fallen tens of times already. He tried to skate the grom bowl at Pier Park and fell on his ass over and over until I taught him to slide on his knee pads. He takes a beating every time we skate and yet has no soreness the next day. He thinks I'm an awesome skater and wants to see me to skate the full pipe at Pier. I try to tell him that as a skater you got to know your limits and skate within them until you feel ready to try to the next challenge. One more thing where baby steps are the way to go.
When I was an acting teacher I talked a lot about feeling one's feet under them. I should have had people stand on skateboards in the studio because I got to tell you, feeling your feet under you takes on a whole new meaning.

Feeling my feet on pressed maple,
Signore Direttore

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