Americana Weekend

This past weekend, I sliced deeply into some American pie. I dredged up some of my Deep South roots from so far down, I should have worn some protective caving gear — or at least a helmet, because I was at the roller skating rink.

My friend Teesha, supermom that she is, hosted a skating party for her daughter's birthday. And since there's no mini-van alive that will fit nine excited girls, I volunteered my services as chauffeur and chaperone. (I should point out that 3 of the 9 girls were Teesha's, and that's not even all of 'em. Hence, her automatic "supermom" status. Something must be incredibly satisfying at her house. That's all I'm saying.)

Turns out, Teesha, me and our friend Cate were just about the only chaperones there in a rink full of teenagers. And boy, did it bring back some memories. Although we all hail from different parts of the South, we realized that early teen roller skating was something we all shared.

And then we wondered, is this a universal truth in the American adolescent psyche? Is roller skating as much a part of Americana as Friday night football and apple pie? When you move up north, do you just replace your wheels with blades and keep on sliding around the rink?

For us, it was a valuable opportunity for cultural reflection. For our daughters, it was a different kind of learning experience. At one point, my 8-year-old and her friend came up to me with very serious looks on their faces and said, "These teenagers move way too fast, and teenage boys like to show off a LOT."

There's a life lesson, no matter what culture you're from! Hopefully it will sink in.

And I'm not above a few more turns around the rink if anyone wants to go.