Kristi Yamaguchi: A Childhood Hero and the Enduring Magic of Winter Dreams
Figure skater Kristi Yamaguchi was my first hero. I was six years old when she won Olympic gold in the winter of ‘92. My family gathered around the television, captivated by her performances. During commercial breaks, my older sister and I would race down to the basement, determined to replicate her grace and power. We’d spin and leap, barefoot on the rough carpet, attempting our own triple axels – often resulting in rug burns, but a small price to pay for aspiring Olympic skaters.
We’d plead with our mom to be the judge. “Mom, watch! Watch this!” we’d shout, performing our enthusiastic, albeit clumsy, routines. Our “spastic dances,” as they likely appeared, were far from gold-medal worthy, but always earned clapping and perfect tens from our incredibly patient judge. It was a time of pure, unadulterated joy and boundless ambition, all sparked by the brilliance of Kristi Yamaguchi.
The following year, Kristi Yamaguchi herself came to an ice skating show at the Mecca Arena in Milwaukee. My mom took us on our first big downtown outing, a special trip just to see my hero in person. I’m told it was a spectacular show. However, my seven-year-old self proved to be remarkably un-wakable. Her appearance, saved for the grand finale, occurred well past my bedtime. I slept through it, missing the chance to see Kristi Yamaguchi live. But her poster adorned my bedroom wall throughout grade school, a constant reminder of the dreams she inspired.
I convinced myself we were friends, that she knew I was there in spirit, even if she hadn’t seen me snoring in the crowd. That poster represented more than just an athlete; it symbolized possibility and the power of believing in something bigger than yourself.
By high school, my passion for figure skating had waned, replaced by a new love: hockey. The thrill of skating across the neighborhood pond, chasing the puck with my best friend, became my winter obsession. One year, a perfect little rink formed in our backyard thanks to fluctuating temperatures. I remember skating alone, feeling like nothing could ever surpass that moment of pure bliss.
As a vegetable farmer in my twenties, I often joked that I’d chosen my career to allow for winter hockey. Twenty years later, I still have those high school skates, though I only laced them up once this past winter. While the competitive edge has softened, the joy of farming has grown, confirming that I made the right choice, even if the reasons weren’t initially what I expected.
I haven’t watched much of the Olympic Games recently, finding myself more concerned with the well-being of the athletes – their access to good chiropractic care and, of course, a steady supply of organic vegetables! However, catching a glimpse of figure skating and speed skating the other night stirred something within me. I was transported back to that childhood basement, red-faced and sweaty, dreaming big on a cold winter’s night. The legacy of Kristi Yamaguchi, and the magic of winter, continues to resonate.
Stephanie Bartel is the owner of Old Plank Farm in Plymouth, WI.
Contact Information:
- 113 E. Mill St., Plymouth WI 53073
- Local: 920-893-6411
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Team USA – Kristi Yamaguchi Profile
