Whenever I ask my mom what I was like when I was little, she tells this story about how I related to my siblings:
Whenever my older siblings would sit down to a game of Monopoly or The Farming Game or Risk, I, like any other little two-year-old (or so) would want to play, too. However, unlike most little two-year-olds, instead of expressing my frustration at not being able to play by running through the middle of the board, scattering pieces and ruining the game, I would sit quietly at the edge of the board as if I was playing. My older brothers and sisters would give me a piece they weren't using, and every few turns I would roll the dice and move it a few spaces. Then I'd hand some money to someone. Every once in a while, they'd hand a few ones to me to keep me happy. I didn't want to ruin the game, or simply pull all the attention to myself. I wanted to play, and I did my best through careful observation to do what they were doing. When they played risk, I was happy as long as someone let me roll the dice for them. In The Farming Game they let me put on the little plastic stickers for their crops. Besides showing that I had both lucky and very patient siblings, this story also shows something about my personality.
Fast forward 22 years or so. Change the game to skateboarding, and change the board to a mini-ramp, and you've got almost the same scene. The siblings' parts will be played by the people there about my age who were practicing slides and nose stalls and all sorts of other tricks I don't know the names for. Because of the way a mini-ramp is set up (it's sort of a small half pipe), everyone is facing each other, taking turns, and, hopefully, cheering each other on. Usually I stay off the mini-ramp unless there's no one on it but my boyfriend and me. I'm usually next to the mini-ramp, partially blocked by one wall, practicing my ollies over and over and over. I'll spend an hour just jumping up and down. It's perfect for me. I'm out of the way, I can practice, and I have a view of almost the entire park. But it also means that I'm always watching and listening to the group on the mini-ramp. What they're doing looks so fun, and they're working hard and enjoying themselves so much, that I always want to join in, but I don't want to be the two-year-old running through their board game. But I'll sneak on and practice when there's no one on it, rolling slowly back and forth, trying to pick up speed. The best comparison to give is that I'm a kid just learning to pump on a swing, while the others are doing backflips in mid air. I'm not about to monopolize their swing.
Well, Thursday, as I was practicing with Nick on the deserted mini-ramp, one of the other guys came back to use it. I'd watched him skate for the last half an hour or so, and he'd seemed friendly and nice, and he was only one person, so I decided to stay on the ramp. So, when he and Nick had each had a turn dropping in and practicing, I would slide on my rear end down to the bottom of the ramp and roll back and forth for a while. And, like I said earlier, if you've got a good group on the mini-ramp, they cheer each other on. So I'd roll back and forth, to the enthusiastic coaching and encouragement of Nick and Other Guy. With a bit of help, I started to get the hang of it.
Then, last night, I was practicing on the mini-ramp again, getting better slowly, when a whole bunch of Other Guys (including the original) came over. Bravely, I stuck my ground, partially because there was no way to get off the ramp without blocking it. After a few people had gone, Other Guy (the original) pointed to me and said with a grin "It's you're turn." And suddenly I was skating with lots of encouragement and advice from everyone. I didn't take as many turns as the other kids, but that feeling of just starting to be part of the game was there. I was moving my piece, getting a few bucks, and the others were willing to let me play that way. Although it made me feel somewhat like a little kid again, it felt great to finally be part of the game.
