Skating at Urann's Pond

When we were very little we would put our skates on in the kitchen, walk out the back door, cross the yard and the parking lot and up over the dike to “Urann’s pond” (later we learned to tie our own laces and that walking on tar wasn't good for the blades). On land owned by Ocean Spray founder/president Marcus Urann, it was a man-made dammed square of water with two drainage rivers flowing into it. The outlet actually went underground, under the parking lot, under the Ocean Spray building and into the Cedar Swamp. There were two islands – one a 15 foot diameter mini-mountain, one about 50 feet round and flat and wooded with paths on it.Occasionally the Park Street/Foster Ave bullies would commandeer the main pond, so we would stick to the river section. The river was a 6 foot wide by 100 foot long drainage trench connecting the swampy wetland woods to the pond. Connected to that were patches of standing water with trees and brush pushing through. It was a great and tricky place to play tag on ice – with snapping branches and exposed roots to take you down, but it was better agility/reflex training than any drill ever devised by any hockey coach. Although I didn’t play any organized hockey until I was seventeen, I made the “A” team because I could skate as strongly as anyone. The try-out drills didn’t expose the fact that I had a lot to learn about real hockey. I never was a scorer, but with my wingspan and having learned some good pond hockey tricks (boy could I poke check while skating backwards) a defenseman I was.Often the littlest kids were assigned to “Uncle Mac’s Pond”. According to legend passed down to us by my father, this large puddle of discolored water and dead vegetation was created when Uncle Mac had to pee really bad one day long ago. At approximately 10 feet wide, 20 feet long, 4 inches deep (he must have had a HUGE bladder) and just three steps from the river (separated by a sort of earthen berm) it was a nicely contained and safe place for the double-runner crowd.We learned how to tell if the ice was safe enough to skate on - not that thin ice would necessarily stop us. Mom had made the mistake of passing down her own childhood story of “tiddling the ice” – the art of skating across ice so thin that waves would form under it while you skated. The ice surface would rise and fall as you moved across, rippling ahead and behind, but going too slow meant too much weight concentrated on ice that couldn't actually support it (and a predictable result would follow). The shallow river by the small island froze first, so you could get a head start and cross the short distance to the small island on ice only 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick (totally NOT “safe” ice). Getting back was tricky, but only knee deep to a 6 foot tall teenager (trust me – knee deep). Braver souls (mostly sister Laurie and cousin Billy) could bypass the small island and get to the big island so long as they moved fast enough. From that island, they could cross the bridge and walk back around the pond on dry land. One day, with blades freshly sharpened, Laurie and I got unusually courageous, bypassed the little island and instead of angling towards the big island, headed straight for the far shore. Every push-off of each skate blade cut little slices into the ice, leaving puddles all the way across. The wake caused under the ice made little water spouts to shoot out, and started to break up the ice along the edges. Because slowing down was not an option, it was full speed ahead and dive head first onto the shore – not graceful, but totally exhilarating!Skating during the day was fun and this is where we learned how to play pond hockey, but the real fun was when we would have a night-time “Skating Party”. My parents would have us gather up branches from the woods, and they would bring the newspaper and matches. The big island had a large boulder that jutted into the water (or ice in this case) and the fire would be built on the ice in front of the rock. The melt-water puddle that formed around the fire would prevent it from accidentally spreading, and the fire was always large enough so you didn’t have to stand too close to get warm. Old cranberry crates made good chairs - and later we discovered good firewood (the warehouse beside the pond was stacked to the ceiling with empty crates, and a broken window was an open invitation to borrow the boxes). Mom would bring hot chocolate and snacks, Dad taught us “Crack-the-Whip”, and we would skate long after dark. The moon and the fire gave enough light to skate easily around the main pond, but skating around the islands (especially the big island) took a little more bravery. As we got older, we would organize the skating parties ourselves. Cousins and neighbors and school friends would be called, and responsibilities would be assigned (snacks, drinks, firewood, etc...). Occasionally the skating consisted solely of crossing the ice to sit beside the bonfire for hours, and to occasionally disappear into the shadows when nature called (so much better to be a guy in 20 degree weather and snow suits). On the rare occasion when everybody bailed out early or just didn’t show up, I liked to skate alone under the stars. Being one of eight siblings, I enjoyed the sense of independence and solitude.We grew up as our own little pack of brothers & sisters & cousins, having the run of the neighborhood, inventing grand adventures - often unsupervised but never more than 1/4 mile from the house, known by name by nearly every grownup in Hanson, and never once feeling unsafe. Along the way I intend on telling many more “When I was a boy living at Nenna’s house” stories. I love passing along these stories, and I occasionally long for the good old days, and I would never let my own kids be so wild and free – although I often wish they could be. I know it’s because times have changed and the world is a more dangerous place, but sometimes I fear that the real truth is simply that I got old. Hopefully my stories won’t.http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&q=30+phillips+st,+Hanson,+Ma&ie=UTF8&z=19&ll=42.043801,-70.87902&spn=0.000954,0.002666&t=k&om=1