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WEST COVINAGirls growing up in Madison, Wisconsin in the 1930's welcomed winter for the ice-skating that brought everyone out to the frozen Monona and Mendota and the Yahara River that threaded through town. On campus two outdoor ice rinks stood side by side: one for ice hockey and one for public skating. We all yearned for figure skates at Christmas after seeing Sonja Henie, the Norwegian Figure Skating champion starring in American films. (As an aside, Mammoth Lakes California is home to another Olympic "phenom" of the 1960s, Andrea Meade Lawrence who won two gold medals for skiing.) Most of my friends came to the public rink after Christmas with the dainty white figure skates. I, on the other hand, had to lace up black hockey skates. What I remember most, after my disappointment in my skates, were the excruciating pains as my frozen feet thawed in the warming huts kept stoked along the way.
Selma Calnan, Secretary and Registrar, GLAMHA West Covina Youth Hockey Club
on Oct 17, 2005 emailed me the following essay she had submitted for a journal wiritng class
in Bishop, California
When Hockey was My Life
The first enchantment of California came when I left Madison in January at -14 degrees and stepped off the train in Pasadena where temperature was in the 70s. Another charm was the sound of birds singing after the dead silence of a Wisconsin winter. In that euphoric state I met my husband the same day and we married the following November.
We moved to West Covina, the fastest growing suburb at that time and contributed five children to the baby boom. Our Ross Loos doctor recommended galvanic shock treatments and ice skating to strengthen our youngest son's left ankle, following a botched surgery that had severed a nerve. The West Covina Ice Arena became our haunt. The NHL was just taking root, probably based on the Census that showed there were more Canadians living in Southern California than in San Francisco 500 miles closer to the border.
Inevitably the youth hockey coach spotted my red head and recruited him for the new team of Bantams. Hockey soon became our life. My husband took care of outfitting John not before I learned that a hockey cup was not used for coffee!
Soccer Moms have it easy compared to Hockey Moms. We got up at 3 a.m. to rouse the household, prod the player to get suited up and arrive at the rink and darkened snack bar with the full club coffeepot, an act of mercy for the drowsy coaches. We made hot chocolate and supplied fresh doughnuts for teams at the end of there 4 a.m. practice. Daytime hours were reserved for the figure skaters and public sessions. We were the chauffeurs for the away games that took us to dark and chilly ice rinks throughout Southern California and to Stockton or San Diego for play-offs. Our nine-passenger Fury Station wagon often needed industrial strength air freshener after transporting damp hockey uniforms and skates that made their presence known from canvas equipment bags.
By this time I had become the club registrar, secretary and publicist. I soon learned how to write rousing sports stories from the score sheets of all the teams, typing into the wee hours. My husband then delivered the typed copies to the San Gabriel Tribune, the Covina Sentinel, the Hacienda Heights Highlander and the La Puente Journal while I got ready to face a room full of fourth graders. During Christmas holidays we were freezing again as volunteer petal crews for the Pasadena Rose Parade floats. Their naked skeletons were housed in a huge unheated building while the flowers and glues were located in a tent nearby. We were often called out to help keep it from sailing to Kansas! We earned $1200 for the club treasury and lost some of our enthusiasm for the parade on New Year's Day. Although Wisconsin's football team never showed up while we were active we did meet the hulks of Michigan as they toured the site for photo ops. Wisconsin did make it to the Rose Bowl later, making their mark for saying "Thank You" to everybody.
One of the rival teams in GLAMHA (the Greater Los Angeles Minor Hockey Association) was Burbank, the home of the Burbank Studios. Our boys were playing against sons of several well-known movie stars; Jane Russell's spoiled son "Buckey" among them. At our first encounter we were all impressed by the grandeur of the Burbank rink compared to the West Covina Ice Arena, a converted Piggley Wiggley market. Huge posters of the stars in the neighborhood decorated its soaring walls. Can you imagine my surprise when I saw one whole wall devoted to Sonja Henie, as gorgeous in 1965 as she had in 1939! It was a magic moment.
By the time John became a junior, which in hockey means he was a senior in high school, his team had gone to the Nationals, held that year in Minnesota. Making it to fourth place he learned that the Minnesota players lift hay bales all summer!
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