Lynn's Comments: No matter how fast he was skating or how complex the play, Aaron knew where I was in the stands. He knew I'd be there watching everything he did - at least I tried to watch it all. I was one of a tight knit group of hockey moms who always sat in the same place. We always wore the same parkas; a huddled little throng, trying to keep warm with blankets, body heat and bad arena coffee. In Lynn Lake, your parka was a sort of signature. Like waddling mounds of fabric huffing wads of steam out the top, we were part of the northern landscape. My parka was blue with a wolf fur hood and a decorative band of green around the bottom. My friend Nancy had a green parka; June's was magenta. You could tell who was who by the way they walked and what they wore. Those parkas kept us from freezing to the bleachers as we dutifully watched our boys skate their hearts out - for the team and for us. I never looked forward to the 6 am practices, but I'll always be glad I was there.
