by Jim Herbert
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
It’s one of those lines that risks becoming invisible from overuse, and yet there are moments in life when that line suddenly feels startlingly precise. This is one of those moments for me, both in the smaller circle of my own life AND with things that seem larger. Within my own inner circle, parenting offers up a lot of moments which are breathtaking and excruciating in the very same breath. Moments that refuse to be simplified into either triumph or struggle and insist instead on being both. In other words, moments that deliver the best and worst of times all at the same time.
Before I get into that story though, in case you didn’t recognize my famous opening line for today’s post, it comes from Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. I am always open about my love for Dickens and in many ways, his commentary about society, wealth, power and the abuse of that power are as timely now as they were over 150 years ago.
In A Tale of Two Cities, Dickens is not only writing about the French Revolution, but speaking to all societies. I’ve always read that opening line as a warning that what feels like stability or prosperity to some often contains the seeds of upheaval for all. In many ways, to me A Tale of Two Cities is Dickens’ personal warning against complacency.
Let’s get back to my smaller circle of life story for a moment though. Earlier this winter, my daughter Emma started asking about ice skating again. She has asked on and off for a couple of years now, but we still hadn’t gotten around to actually trying to skate together. On Monday night last week while watching a Daniel Tiger episode where Daniel learns how to skate by using the push, push, glide method, Emma looked at me with that particular blend of curiosity and hope that only a seven-year-old can muster and asked:
“Daddy, do you think there’s still enough time for me to learn how to ice skate this winter?”
Her voice was soft and earnest, and I knew she was asking the question because it really mattered to her. I told her that yes, we could absolutely find time and that I would check the schedules at the ice rink nearby and that we would figure something out.
A couple of days later, when I picked Emma up from school, she bounded down the stairs ready to head outside and play on the field since the weather was warmer than normal for a January afternoon. Once Emma has her mind set on doing something it’s hard to change her mind, but I had an offer in my back pocket that she was unlikely to refuse. I asked Emma if she wanted to go skating and she looked up at me and excitedly asked “when?” I told her “right now” which led to her dashing off to find the car without even saying goodbye to her friends.
As excited as I was to take Emma skating for the first time, I also had parts of me that were more than a little bit anxious. Learning how to ice skate is NOT an easy task and Emma is a bit of a perfectionist. When Emma struggles with something she wants to do well, the frustration can come fast and hard in the form of tears, big emotions, and harsh self-judgment. I knew our trip to the rink was NOT going to be all smiles and hot cocoa, but I was still determined to make it happen.
When we arrived at the ice rink Emma jumped out of the car and raced over to the check in area, which was marked with a snowman cutout with a sign that said, “Welcome!” We rented Emma’s skates, found a bench to sit down on and I helped her lace her skates up for the first time ever, just like my dad did for me over 50 years ago. Once she had skates on her feet, Emma carefully stood up and walked across the rubber mats in the lobby area as she tested her balance. With her helmet on, we walked outside to the ice rink, surveyed the area and after grabbing a little something called The Skate Helper, we stepped onto the ice together for the very first time.
Back when I learned how to skate, we used two upside down milk crates stacked on top of each other to help little kids learn how to stand up and balance on the ice when they first started skating, but apparently somebody with an entrepreneurial mind decided to advance that idea into a marketable product. And boy am I glad they did because ultimately it made all the difference in the world. Predictably though, the first 20 to 30 minutes were fraught with chaos and big feelings.
The Skate Helper was heavy, so moving it even a few inches at a time felt like an impossible task for Emma at first. I did my best to explain to Emma how to walk like a duck for a few steps and then make your feet parallel and glide a bit. It’s all about learning to let the ice work with you instead of fighting it. At first almost none of my advice landed and progress was measured in inches, not feet, which did not satisfy Emma in the least!
After about ten minutes with the Skate Helper, we changed our plan and tried holding hands while I skated backwards. Let’s just say that didn’t go too well either. Emma kept losing her balance, her feet slipping out from under her and pulling me forward as I tried to steady both of us. Eventually, we moved to the outer edge of the rink where Emma could hold onto the boards with her right hand as I held her left, inching along together. The process continued for the next 15 minutes with a few steps, a fall, frustration, tears, standing back up and then repeating the whole process.
This pattern of try, fail, try again has not been a pattern that has been tolerable for Emma up until now, and yet, something was different this time around at the ice rink. I saw a determination in Emma that I recognized, something she’s always had, but this time it felt steadier, quieter and calmer. This time Emma wasn’t quitting! Those two or three steps along the outer edge of the rink slowly became five at a time, then ten at a time, and at one point, we made it halfway around the rink without a fall. I made sure that Emma took a minute to notice her accomplishment, to which she unceremoniously replied, “Does this place have a bathroom?”
After a quick bathroom break, Emma asked to go back to the Skate Helper. This time, she moved with more confidence. After walking around the edge of the rink with one hand on the boards and another in my hand, Emma had a better feel for her own balance. So over the next hour, she went from fighting to push the skate helper in the beginning, to actually gliding with it as an ally. Near the end, Emma actually even pushed the Skate Helper aside for a moment and gingerly attempted ten strides on her own, after which she then landed on her butt and quickly announced, “I’m okay!”
When we left we were both exhausted, but we also both felt a sense of pride that doesn’t need much language to describe. It was one of those special moments where the price that was paid in bumps, bruises and tears was well worth the experience. What will go down as one of my best times of the recent past, also included some worst times also, but that too was okay.
What made the night even more layered for me was something I hadn’t really even considered until we had been skating long enough for me to get out of the planning/doing energy of the experience. This was the same ice rink where, almost exactly four years earlier, I had fallen and sustained a serious head injury. I don’t know precisely how close I came to not coming home that day, but I do know that when I woke up in the ambulance, I felt like I had drifted out towards the threshold between two worlds and made a conscious choice to return.
In the year that followed during my recovery, the impact of that injury unlocked memories from my childhood that had long been inaccessible. Whatever it was that got shaken up inside my head that day eventually led me into deep EMDR therapy work and trauma healing that reshaped my understanding of myself and my past. To stand in that same rink, holding my daughter’s hand as we made our first foray into skating together as she learned to trust her body on the ice, felt quietly profound.
We skated, we struggled, we laughed, we grew, and then after it was all done we went to Culver’s to pick up burgers to eat at home on the comfort of our own couch where we spend every morning together. I’ve told a few people who I have talked to about our experience that it was the first time in months I felt true joy in my body. Being in my own element on the ice and sharing it with Emma as she built her own new version of resilience made my heart feel happy in a way that it hasn’t felt much of lately and I couldn’t be more grateful.
It’s hard not to notice the resonance between that night and the world we’re living in right now. So much beauty, so many challenges and so many moments where it feels much easier to focus only on what’s broken. On the flip side of that, it can be tempting to ignore what’s broken and distract ourselves with fleeting, short lived pleasures. Lately I’m noticing that it’s far easier to let what’s not working in my life and what’s working just good enough in my life to peacefully coexist.
Afterall, if we only attend to what is hardest, we risk missing what is quietly growing in those moments of falling down and breaking our butts on the proverbial ice of life. And if we only attend to what is beautiful, we risk losing compassion for how much effort it takes to stay upright.
Watching Emma learn how to skate reminded me that balance isn’t something you achieve once and then keep forever. It’s something you practice everyday and in all aspects of life, falling, standing up, adjusting, and trying again. Over and over and over and over again…together.
Last week on the ice and so many other nights of life these days really are the best of times and the worst of times all rolled into one. Somehow that night on the same ice that was almost the end for me, that reminder turned out to be exactly what I needed to hear, see and feel.
Push, push, glide… Push, push, glide…
And never forget that it’s okay to get a little help(er) along the way.
Thanks for taking the time to read this post. It’s such an honor to serve as managing director at MenLiving where we create safe spaces for men to get a little help, find some joy amidst the challenges of life and learn how to balance in slippery times. I hope to see you in one of those spaces soon.
