Datebook: March 31st ~ 2008

This is the time of year when we find out that many teams are not staying together for one reason or another—some move on to new partnerships, some move on to college, and some just move back home or to a new home. As T.S. Eliot advised in his classic poem, “April is the cruelest month of all….”

Years ago, I used to think that skating partnerships were like marriages. I now know that isn’t really true. I know this because with a nineteen year old daughter, and an eighteen year-old son, the drama involved in romantic relationships is much more intense than anything we can imagine in our skating world of matching costumes and side by side twizzles. When you welcome someone into your home as a “dating” member of the family there is an exchange of trust that is often handed back in a not so neatly wrapped package when the relationships don’t work out.

It’s not like the movies. Let’s face it, if Richard Gere had just gone to the airport and headed home in first class at the end of Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts may not be the star she is today and we would not have the concept of modern knights on white horse rescues. If Billy Crystal had not agreed with Meg Ryan that good friends can fall in love at the end of When Harry Met Sally we would all be a little bit more skeptical of that ‘love conquers all’ adage.

Both my son and my daughter would be able to relate, in great detail using numerous adjectives, two seemingly horrific Prom stories of which I had a very small, but I admit, pivotal role. I am sure that MTV is currently making a series spin off of their minor hit show “Your Mama Don’t Dance, titled “Your Mama Ruined Your Dance” and I will one day be sitting on some white leather armless couch before a booing studio audience who has watched video highlights of both Prom-inent disasters. There will probably even be subtitles for world-wide broadcast.

No, the end of a skating relationship is not as dramatic as a total eclipse of the heart.

But it is painful.

Even if it is mutual and everyone is following the yellow brick road to a golden future. This is probably because skating partnerships often create a bond between two families that becomes, well, like a bigger family.

There are no social mores for the dissolution of a skating partnership.

There are no 10 or 12 step programs to get through it.

There are no recognizable stages of dealing with the void.

I would imagine however, that the first stage might be one of Euphoria. This might occur at the end of the first month when you looked at your check book and then got a new calculator with a paper print out to try to figure out how you have two thousand dollars left over after you have overpaid all your bills.

The second would probably be one of “Haunting Lyrics of the Mind”. This might be prompted by not having to select music for the coming year, of hearing hundreds of possibilities in supermarkets and boutiques with nowhere to channel each coveted selection.

The third stage would certainly be called “Ticketless Master”. This would center around future ice shows that you would not have to attend because your child would not be skating. This would be an area of bittersweet association. You would revel in not being forced to buy an overpriced ticket to watch your child perform while you secretly missed going to the event by pretending you had better plans watching a rerun of “Monk” on television.

The last stage is a little Robert Frost-ish in that a path diverts in the woods of life.

You must choose the way at the fork in the road. One way leads to probable Pilates, Wool Spinning, or learning the various varieties on the Cosmo Bar of Fame. The other has your face pressed against a puck-marked ice rink where you are sponsoring some 8 year-old to go back and do a few more patterns of the Hickory Hoedown.

A sobering thought.

One destined for a Hallmark Movie channel premier. (I would love for Patricia Heaton or Reba McEntire to play my character!)

Anyway, with all this in mind, I think you can understand that if my daughter ever decides to stop skating, even for a season, I am just going to pretend she didn’t. Without a plan in place to help people adjust to the “ loss” of a skating family partnership, without a financial planner to help divert all of the extra coin in the purse, without a purposeful means to pursue a love of skating that ABC alone cannot fulfill, l envision a life tossed into chaos.

It would be a little too much Alice down the rabbit hole for me to handle I’m afraid.

So if my daughter ever stops skating, say to do a spot on Maury Povitch on a little thing they call “My Mom Is Way Too Intense” ,I’m just going to pretend she is didn’t stop skating. I’d still pick out music, get costume color swatches, and go to Lake Placid. Daphne would have to help by keeping her web-site up and making it a little bit like “50 First Dates”.

Oh, and I’d still write. I have way too much to say for my daughter to get off that easy.

Mombo