"It's easy to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends." -Joan Didion

Groundhog Day. Post-pregnancy care. Roller skating. Snowmen.

These are some of the topics our conversation touched on in this week’s ESOL class. I had suggested they all look something up about Groundhog Day, a folk tradition dear to my heart. My mom grew up in Punxsutwaney, Pennsylvania, and I spent part of every summer there throughout my childhood years. I’ve been to the Groundhog Day Festival--the biggest, most important day on the Punxsutawney social and fiscal calendar every year--twice, so I can attest to the way it transforms a sleepy, rural, former coal and railway hub into a bustling winter vacation destination for one day a year.  

I know we began there, with Groundhog Day, but how did we get to roller skating?

Even when I follow the thread backward, I come to a gap eventually. I brought up other cultural and religious traditions observed by some on February 2nd, Candlemas and Imbolc, so we talked about those for a bit. This naturally led to the idea of post-pregnancy care. Candlemas is also known among Catholics as the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple because it was ostensibly forty days after Mary had given birth to Jesus, and, therefore, the day she would have taken him to temple for blessing. This is very similar to the quarantiña tradition in many Hispanic cultures. And because Luz Alba attended class this week, she was able to help explain what that is.

“When the mother give birth,” she began, “she don’t do any washing or cleaning. She doesn’t od anything, just keep with her baby.”

“Who does all her cleaning and cooking for her?” I asked.

“Her family,” she said. “They come and cook soup for her and clean her things. She just take care of her baby.”

Yuwei told us of a similar tradition in Chinese cultures.

“When the lady have baby,” he said, “she is weak. If she touch any cold water, it is likely she will get sick. So she not do any cleaning. Her family do it for her and she just rest. If she rest, and not touch any cold water, she will get stronger and the baby will be strong. Family cook some soup for her, and she get strong.”

Our conversation lingered a bit on this topic. Even Van--so reticent usually--piped up once or twice about how little maternity leave most American companies allow, when compared to Europeans, and how more people should practice this forty-day post-birth care regimen.

It’s the segue from this topic to roller skating that is hazy for me. I imagine it probably had something to with discussing the weather, always a popular and rich topic in Ohio. It might have been specifically about ways to keep sane and relieve stress when all the world around you looks like the set of The Shining, and you’re beginning to feel like Jack: all work and no play. 

Several years ago, my husband and I decided to try roller skating at a local rink on Saturday mornings as a way of alleviating our (okay, my) winter blues. I never learned to skate as a kid, so my aging muscles had no memory of how to balance on wheels, let alone how to propel my body forward in a graceful way. Dave was patient and kind and tried to coach me, but I fell more often than I circumnavigated the rink. My wrists, collar-bone, and tailbone soon bore the bruises of my attempts, and before too long I abandoned the endeavor. When six- and seven-year-olds outpace you, it’s hard to feel very good about yourself.

“But I love to watch roller skaters,” I told my class. “It looks so cool when people do it well to really fun music.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“My young brother can skate,” Yuwei offered. “We have a large table in our house in China, and he can go all the way around it without stopping, without touching the wall. I tried but could not do it.”

I know exactly how he feels. 

From there, the conversation is quite amorphous in my mind. I was tired from a long day of work, and Yuwei, Luz Alba, and Van were all tired, too. At a couple of points, the conversation completely dissipated, and we all sat in silence for moments on end.

We wrapped up a little early, mercifully so, as I hadn’t had dinner yet. Before leaving, Luz Alba approached me.

“Maybe next week,” she said, “we go to Panera bread or somewhere. Do something else maybe...”

She trailed off and it took me a minute to respond because I wasn’t entirely sure I had understood her well.

“Oh,” I finally replied. ‘Do something? Go somewhere instead of just sit down here? Yes! That’s a great idea!”

I suggested we go to the Akron Art Museum, right across High Street, because a friend of mine has curated a new exhibit there, Living with Art. I’ve also heard the other exhibits showing right now are not to be missed. 

Again, I don’t quite remember how that conversation ended, but end it did, and we each made our way back out into the frozen night. Perhaps next week will be more memorable, seeing as how we will venture out of the library basement and into a new environment.