Jimmy Never Went to the Pond

I knew the real reason why my friend, Jimmy Temple, wouldn’t go down to Pinewood School Pond. Not because he hadn’t learned to skate which was true, but because he had clubfoot. That’s what my Mom called it. His left leg was much shorter than his right. And to help him walk, he wore these special high-top shoes, the left one with a really big sole. There wasn’t much he could do to hide it, and some of the kids made fun of him. He always looked like he was on the verge of crying. And I guess sometimes he did.

We were both eleven and lived next-door to each other. Our homes and a number of others backed up to the pond. It was a big pond, about 100 yards long and wide, they say. I called it a lake, but what did I know? I was just a kid. When the weather turns cold as it does each winter, the pond freezes over and stays that way for weeks and weeks. Whoever is in charge of such things had tested the thickness of the ice and declared it safe for skating. And that made it about the most popular place in our small town.

I had been trying to get Jimmy to go down to the pond with me where kids and grown-ups were having such fun skating. We were in his bedroom standing at the window looking down at all the activity around the pond. Someone had built a big bonfire and people were huddled around it. The sky was slate-gray, but it hadn’t dampened my enthusiasm.

“C’mon, Jimmy,” I urged again. “Dress up real warm like me and we can go on down there.”

He shook his head “no” and just stared out the window.

“I won’t even go skating,” I said, even though that’s what I really wanted to do. “We’ll just sit on the bench near that bonfire and watch. It’ll be fun.”

“You go on. I got a little cold and my Mom said to stay in.”

“You sure?” I asked, knowing that he was just making another excuse. He nodded, and I picked up my skates and left.

That evening at supper, I mentioned Jimmy’s reluctance to go down to the pond.

“The poor kid’s missing out on a lot of what makes growing up fun,” my Mom said. She was a teacher at Pinewood School on the other side of the pond. “I see him avoid all the activity at school with the other kids. If it weren’t for you being his friend, he’d really be lonely.” She patted my hand, and that made me feel pretty good.

“Too bad about his leg and foot. He still has a problem walking even with those special shoes. I wonder who they’re made by?” my Dad said.

My dad owned a shoe repair shop so I could understand his interest in Jimmy’s special shoes. I loved to go down to Dad’s shop mainly because it was next to The Creamery where I usually could get a cone for free from Mrs. Wilmer.

“I was talking to Jane just this morning,” my Mom said. Jane was Jimmy’s Mom. “She told me that Jimmy just got a new pair because he hardly had any room for growth in his old ones, and how expensive those shoes were. Custom-made orthopedic shoes she called them.”

“So he won’t be wearing those older shoes anymore?” my Dad said and I could see his forehead wrinkle up the way it does when he’s deep in thought. “Say, do you think Jane would let me examine those shoes?”

“What for? Do you think you can make him a pair?”

“Oh no. They have special lasts for that and measurements. I just have kind of an idea.”

“I’ll ask her.”

I didn’t think much more about that conversation. It was about a week away from Christmas vacation. As usual, me and Jimmy waited for the bus each day and went to school. Afterwards, I’d get my skates and head down to the pond. Jimmy never went with me, and I could spot him sometimes watching from his bedroom window.

On Christmas morning, me and my little sister, Fran, opened our gifts. I got some cool things including a new baseball glove and bat.

“No swinging it in the house,” my Mom said, just as I was about to. “You can do that outside.” How do moms always know what you are about to do?

“I have a gift from all of us for Jimmy,” Dad said, handing me a box all wrapped up in gift paper. “You can go over there later and give it to him.”

“What is it?”

“Never mind. It’s for him to open, and I sure hope he will like it,” Dad said.

I could hardly wait to take it to him. Later, after our lunch dishes were cleared away, and all the torn wrapping paper and ribbons were gathered up for the trash, I walked over to Jimmy’s house carrying the gift box. What was in it, I wondered?

Jimmy answered the door.

“This present is for you from us,” I said, handing him the box.

“Shut the door and come on in,” I heard Mrs. Temple call from the kitchen. She came into the living room, smiled at me, and winked. Ah, I thought, she knows about this mysterious gift. “Go ahead, unwrap it, Jimmy,” she said.

Jimmy carefully pulled the red ribbon off and tore away the bright green wrapping paper uncovering a big white box. He lifted the lid. Suddenly, his face lit it up like a neon light with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on him.

“What is it?” I asked, hardly containing my own excitement at Jimmy’s obvious pleasure.

He reached into the box and lifted part of its contents. It was an ice skate that looked similar to mine. He handed it to me and reached back in and pulled out the other skate. I recognized his usual, high-top shoe with the built up sole, only now there was a shiny, metal blade attached.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s neat. Now we can go down to the pond.” I saw Mrs. Temple smiling and nodding. She had been in on it, after all.

“Jimmy," she said. "You go get on your warmest coat and things, and we’ll all go down to the pond.”

When Jimmy walked out of the room. She put her arm around my shoulder. “You go on home and tell your folks how pleased Jimmy was with the skates. Especially your Dad who built them for him from Jimmy’s old shoes. We’ll all walk down to the pond together.”

And we did. Jimmy’s Mom helped him put his skates on, and I helped him onto the ice. It was a sunny Christmas Day, and the pond was alive with people. He was very wobbly at first, but with me holding on to him he began to get what my Dad, who had been in the Navy once, called his “sea legs.” We kept to the fringe where the skaters were fewer in number, and after his first turn around the pond, he shook off my hand.

“Stay close, but let me try this by myself,” he called to me, and off he skated, me pumping hard to catch up.

Wow, I thought to myself, he was a natural. Took to it like a duck to water, only this duck had skates on ice. And then he fell. I raced over. He already was getting to his feet.

“It’s O.K., I expected to fall,” he said. “I did that a lot learning to walk, so it’s nothing new, but ice skating is, and I love it.” He stood back up on his skates.

“You know why?” he added, “because it’s easier than walking. No limping, just gliding along. I don't feel clumsy. And I’ve been watching the skaters here practically my whole life, imitating them on the tile floor, imagining what it would be like to actually do it. And thanks to your Dad, now I am. Let’s go.”

Later, I asked Dad how he had come up with the skates.

“I’m a pretty good shoemaker,” Dad said. “I knew I could fashion ice skates from Jimmy’s old shoes by adding the blades. Alan Hearst down at the re-sell-it shop had a number of older skates on sale. I found one about the right size and with a little shoe repair magic put the blades on Jimmy’s shoes. He’s growing, so next year, like you, he may need a new pair, but these will work all winter for him.”

And so they did. For the rest of that winter while the pond was frozen, I had no more trouble getting Jimmy to go down there. In fact, the very next morning after Christmas Day, I answered the door bell. There was Jimmy, the skates slung over his shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s go. The weatherman said big snow later, so let’s get our skating in now,” he said.

I agreed.

The End