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On the way home from Christmas shopping four things happened. The sun set, a great blizzard swept in off Lake Erie, Dad's old Studebaker skidded into the ditch and ran out of gas.
The five of us abandoned the car, struggled half a mile through the blizzard to home. WW 2 was going on. Money, food and gas were in short supply. Because of the money shortage the black ice skates were to be my only Christmas present. They were a size too small.
In January that winter Lake Erie in our area froze to a slick glass surface. The thick ice was transparent also like glass. Carl and I donned our skates and skated and skated and skated, my toes scrunched up and freezing cold in the hard toes of the too small ice skates.
The only time I ever used them, my black ice skates.
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