Just A Gal From Glidden: From beginner badges to big dreams

By Kate Winquist

Small beginnings have a way of turning into remarkable stories — especially when those beginnings take shape in a tiny farming community like ours.

The Glidden Rink is where I first learned to skate. “Learned” might be a generous description. I was never particularly skilled. In fact, I’m quite certain my skating career peaked at the prestigious rank of Beginner. I can still picture the badge — a proud shade of green, adorned with a pair of white figure skates and the word BEGINNER stitched boldly across the front. I wore it as if it were Olympic gold.

Garth, Pam and Valarie Drummond at the Glidden Skating Carnival in 1963.

The prestigious beginner badge.

Most of my time at the rink was spent perched on a well-worn wooden bench, wrestling with stiff, frozen laces and casting hopeful glances toward the old Coca-Cola cooler humming faithfully in the corner. If I managed to survive a session upright — or at least mostly upright — there was always the promise of a pop afterward. That small reward alone made a few wobbly laps worthwhile.

One memory stands out clearly: a Telemiracle Skate-A-Thon where we gathered pledges based on the number of laps we could complete. I suspect my contribution to the cause was modest at best. My enthusiasm often outpaced the cooperation of my ankles. Marion Paslawski, meanwhile, could skate like the wind — though stopping was another matter entirely. The boards were her brakes of choice.

There’s a treasured family photo from 1963, taken at Glidden during what must have been the annual skating carnival. My brother Garth stands proudly in a bright red serge Mountie outfit, alongside my sisters Pam and Valarie in their costumes. It’s more than a snapshot; it captures the very heart of small-town life at the local rink.

With the Winter Olympics underway in Italy, I’ve found myself reflecting on favourite Canadian skating moments. One rises unmistakably above the rest: Elizabeth Manley’s performance at the 1988 Calgary Olympics. On home ice, she delivered the skate of her life, earning a silver medal that felt like gold to so many of us. I was home from college at the farm, watching with Mom. We both had tears streaming down our faces. It wasn’t just about a medal — it was a moment that swelled with national pride.

Perhaps it was seeing how much joy skating brought Mom that deepened my own affection for the sport. And it wasn’t only the Olympics. I remember travelling to Moose Jaw with her in the early ’90s to see Kurt Browning and Stars on Ice.

Small towns have a way of nurturing big dreams. Our neighbours down the road, Lyle and Phyllis Jackson, raised a daughter, Lorreen, who was a good friend of my sister Pam. Lorreen excelled with the Glidden and Kindersley Figure Skating Clubs, winning numerous competitions before joining the Ice Capades in 1973. She toured across Canada, the United States, and even Hawaii. From a little rink in Glidden to skating across North America — that’s quite the journey. Today, Lorreen and her husband, Blaine Ilott, live in that same farmhouse down the road.

And I can’t mention the Glidden Rink without returning to the Paslawski family. Marion may have trusted the boards to bring her to a stop, but her brother Greg found his stride there. From that same small-town rink, he went on to play in the NHL with the Winnipeg Jets, Montreal Canadiens, and St. Louis Blues.

It’s remarkable how a modest rink — with its wooden benches, stubborn skate laces, and humming Coca-Cola cooler — could serve as the starting point for such extraordinary journeys. In a tiny farming community, you may not have the grandest facilities or the finest equipment. What you do have is encouragement, connection, and space to dream.

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

Small beginnings, it turns out, can glide a very long way.