In the olden days of the late forties there were no Zambonis. The tribe of which I was a member, the rink rats, were proud to be noticed as we skated up and down the ice with our ice scrapers, caroming against one another, pushing our snow load to the big door at the end of the Kindersley arena. We cleared the ice of snow between the hockey periods and after the game. The biggest rat shoveled it out the door. We were allowed to watch all the hockey games free. The Kindersley Klippers were a great intmediate B team. We were all proud to be identified with them.
      I lived on third avenue east, half a short block from the rink, and like all small town rinks it was available for most of the time. Rink rats did a lot of other go-fer jobs as well. The entire rink management was of a volunteer nature. It seems now that we practically lived in the rink in the winter. Kindersley had PeeWee, Bantam,Midget, and Juvenile teams so the rink was busy. There was frequently shinny when the rink was  occupied, usually on the icy street on 3rdAve east near the rink. I don't remember any Junior teams of ours at that time. If we had anyone of that age that was good they probably went to Moose Jaw.
        Hockey was as natural for us as skiing for an Austrian or swimming for an Aussie. There was little money in those days, even for the players that made it big. It was love of the game . Player like the Bently's and Geordie Howe, or the Hucul's would have made more money staying on the farm. What was it that drove us? The pure love of the game and the sure knowledge that it was our game and still is in small town Canada. It had everything to do with participation and dreams. We played it in our sleep.

What if everybody in the world, at the same day, at the same minute, opened their window, looked at the sky, took a big breath, and yelled out their lungs saying,  " Thank you very much, thank you a lot. "  The view would probably change, suffused suddenly with light and color and clarity.
    On the other hand, what if everybody in the world, at the same day, at the same minute, opened their window, looked at the sky, took a big breath and yelled out their lungs saying, " I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore ."  The view would darken and sounds of sorrow, tears, and grief would arise.
      What if,  is only wistful thinking. It may be that we took everything for granted.  In a distant time and a distant place we were given a grant that allowed us to live in a place of light and color and clarity. We may have spoiled it by forgetting to say, thank you very much, thank you a lot, for the grant we were given, and fell into something like I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more.
I think we are watching too much television these days. The movie " Network "  described television as  "indifferent to suffering,  insensitive to joy.  All of life is reduced to the rubble of banality."  Maybe that's a little strong, but the task of mankind is to recover the grant,  or at least what is left for the wistful among us. Not, as it were, taking the grant for granted.