There was something about that hot chocolate. I don’t know whether it was because my hands were cold despite the heavy mittens my aunt had crocheted or the sweet smell of that cocoa powder.

To this day, I don’t know if that hot chocolate was made with water or powdered milk. I just knew that it was a special treat after spending a few hours circling the frozen ice rink at Wheeling Park.

Ice skating on Friday nights at the park was a ritual for many in-between and young teens. As far as I know, it is still the thing to do 50-plus years later. It was where you dared hold hands with your first boy or girlfriend or even steal a kiss from that first love.

On those Friday nights, rarely did you see adult types among the throng of young people. Adults merely were the means of transportation to the ice rink and they didn’t stick around to watch. That night was carved out for the younger set years ago. It served as a rite of passage to be included.

Conversations on the schoolyard throughout the day on Friday was more about who was going skating that night and of course, what are you wearing. Dressing for the weather was important, just not scrutinized as much as the current trend in blue jeans or puffy jackets.

If you were lucky enough to have your own skates it meant you didn’t have to get in line to rent a pair. I can still see the mounds of shoes and boots scattered beneath the benches, discarded quickly to get into your skates.

I was fortunate enough to receive a new pair of skates for my birthday after having to use my sister’s hand-me-down skates for a time. I actually spent time polishing the skates to keep them pristine white. At home, the skates had a special hook on which to hang on the landing to the basement. Those white skates shared space with my brothers’ oversized black hockey skates that never were cleaned that I can recall.

When we weren’t skating, we were watching the antics of the Wheeling Amateur Hockey Association teams racing up and down the rink during early morning Sunday games. This was at a time that the ice rink was an open-air facility without the benefits of a roof.

Personally, I loved it then. When it snowed you could catch snowflakes on your tongue while whizzing around the rink. It was magical.

I haven’t been skating in a lot of years. Arthritis took care of that. However, I am content in knowing that ice skating at Wheeling Park remains as popular today as it did in my youth. I can still smell the hot chocolate …

Heather Ziegler can be reached at hziegler@theintelligencer.net.