The good old hockey game

When you make the decision to leave home you understand that you will miss certain things. There are the tangible things; the nouns like family, that great ice cream shop around the corner and grandmas jell-o "stuff" at Christmas.

In Korea I expected not to have many, many familiar things. And was always overjoyed beyond belief when I discovered them. Much to my surprise Korea did have Walmart (much different than at home) and Costco (eerily exactly the same as at home, right down to the dryer sheets. Problem was KOREA DOESN'T HAVE DRYERS!). Ahhhhhhhh but the scent was familiar.... Turns out it's possible to miss the scent of a laundry room and very, very possible to miss washers and dryers- that's a whole nother post for a whole nother day..........

Things that are available in Canada but not the US is again another blog for another day.

The concrete things you can prepare yourself to live without. You know it's part of the deal of leaving. But then there are the intangibles; the unique feelings and experiences that come with a place. Like eating breakfast on the back deck of your house, or how the sunrise or sunset looks from a certain spot on the road at a certain time of day. Leaving and missing the experiences is a bit harder than leaving the stuff. Stuff can be sent in, stuff can be replicated. Experiences and sensory things can't.

One of the experience things I didn't expect to miss, or maybe didn't even know I'd have to, is hockey. I'm probably stereotyping all Canadians when I say that hockey is part of our cultural fabric, it's part of who we are. I'm sure that there is a great number of Canadians who could care less about the game but we won't talk about them for now. Besides, I grew up in Kamloops BC where Ken Hitchcock once said that "hockey isn't a sport it's a way of life."

It was a HUGE way of life for me for many years. The worlds best dad jokes that he started taking me to games as soon as I was old enough to go to the bathroom by myself. I remember early years in an arena I'm not sure is still standing. Barn like with low glass and freezing cold. It had a lower level that was dark and cavernous, housed the smoking section (thick clouds of smoke) , bathrooms and concession stands. Now that I think of it I was probably a little afraid of the downstairs.

Later (93?) a new facility was built. I don't dare name it because I'm pretty sure it's gone through a few name changes over the years. Like a lot of local places, what people refer to it as, depends on what it was called when they were involved in it. This makes it very confusing to people who are new in town and find that one building or business can have multiple names depending on the age of the person you're asking.

For many years I had a privilege of being a part of St. John Ambulance; an amazing organization that I'm still very proud of. We provided first aid coverage to the local junior hockey teams home games. Not the actual players mind you just the fans who got hurt during the course of a game. And remember those were the years pre-nets. Lead by a much loved first aid mentor, his personality was as colorful as the red socks he wore. The other night I was wondering where an adult man finds red socks?

So hockey is what I "did" every Friday and Saturday night for years. Starting in the very early fall when it was hot outside but freezing cold inside (it doesn't matter if you were wearing shorts before you got there, early season hockey in small arenas means that the ice has to be kept cold so you'd better bundle up.) Running, if we were very, very lucky to Victoria Day. I once missed Easter dinner because of a game that went into quadruple overtime. My mom served dinner without me but a kindly uncle who was a police officer and knew what it meant to miss a family meal because of being "on duty" kept a plate warm for me.

It didn't matter that I didn't understand all the intricacies of the game because really it was less about the sport and more about the social thing. The bad loud music, the even worse arena food. Doing laps around the concourse between periods trying to see and be seen. The little kid thrill of having the local team come to your school. Hockey was a game that everyone knew how to play. Something we could all agree on at recess. I wonder if my kid will ever play floor hockey? Even now I'll pass a farmers frozen pond and expect to see a pick up game on it.

Don't get me wrong obviously there is hockey in the US. It's just that despite all the states we've lived in over the years I've yet to live in an area that truly appreciates the game. Yes there is an NLH franchise 2 hours away and I've heard there's some good junior hockey in the area as well. But since I'm married to the LEAST sports minded male in the United States my chances of going to a live game are nil and none (or as slim as whatever underdog team making the playoffs) . However the other night I caught a game that just happened to pit a former Kamloops player and his former Kamloops coach against each other on TV. Watching it with my 2 boys I found myself answering for the first time the question of "why are they fighting?" Oooooooooh never thought about that parenting dilemma. Hockey from a parents point of veiw. Fortunately there were easily distracted by the hunt to find things to use as hockey sticks so they could re-play the game in the playroom.

The Olympics are coming. Waaaaaaaaaay more on that later. I'm sure that I'll get my hockey fix then Although... I'm the victim of American networks so it will all be with the US slant. Trying to see if I can pick up CBC on line for some live coverage of stuff. Last night I had the good fortune of coming across the following Coke commercial on you tube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vYFIufNoBo Ahhhhhhhh the good old hockey game!