The Best on Ice

My name is Jackson Weaver, and I live in a small mountain village in Colorado called Golden City. Golden City was founded in 1859, it was a gold rush town that was just west of Denver, and was named after Thomas L. Golden, who was a miner from Georgia, and was one of the first to find gold in the Jefferson County area.

Golden City was lovely in the summer, but how I longed for the winter months. To me, it was the most beautiful time of the year. The snow falls ever so gently and glistens when the sun touches it. I have always found it magical and filled with such calm and peace.

As a kid, I remember getting up very early on weekends, grabbing my old skates and running down to the creek with my friends to begin our day. Those skates made me feel free as I skated across the creek. At times, it felt as though I were flying. The more I skated, the more I found I loved it, and I taught myself different tricks on the ice.

My friends said I was very good and should take lessons, but my family was unable to afford it. My father passed when I was three years old. That was nine years ago. Mom did all she could to put food on the table for my brother and I. We learned at an early age what it was like to work, but she needed us, so we were there. After all, family is family, and it couldn’t get any better than that.

There was a skating club in the city called, “The Best on Ice.” Each day I would walk by it and wonder…. “should I?” One day, I did. Before you could actually join, they insisted on seeing you skate. My scheduled time for this was in just two weeks. How would I practice as much as I wanted? Work came first and that left me just 4 days to practice on weekends, but practice, I did. Each night after work, I went straight to the creek, put on my old skates and skated until it was midnight. I would skate backwards, do spins, and leaps, and when my day came, I was ready.

I sat on the park bench by the creek, putting on those old skates. When I looked up, I saw four men walking towards me. Much to my surprise one of the men was Bob Fletcher, who was a professional ice skater. Suddenly my stomach was filled with butterflies that I had never felt before. There was another boy who went up before me. He was good, but not good enough. Could I do better? I sincerely hoped so. My turn now, and as I rose to go to the creek to begin, the blade of my old skate cracked. OH NO!! How could this happen? I was devastated to tears. Mr. Fletcher said, “It happens son. Perhaps another time.” In tears, I looked around, and there was my mother, with a box in her hands. She said to the men, “Kind sirs, could you please just wait one moment?” She handed me the box, and when I opened it, there were the most grandest pair of ice skates anyone could ask for. I asked her, “How?” She simply smiled and said, “Sent by God Himself.” I put those skates on and gave the best performance anyone could possible give. Not only did I make the club, but I went under the instructions of Mr. Bob Fletcher for the next few years, and actually won in the Winter Olympics gold medal for figure skating in the year 1940. It was a time I will never forget. A dream come true, but I never did find out how those new ice skates came to be.