Triple LDJ Skateboarding Newsletter

Triple L.D.J. History

“It’s better than Fort Dodge!” Tyler, my brother, exclaims with a high squeak like that of chalk scraping across a blackboard. “It’s called Triple L.D.J. which stands for our middle names,” he goes on to explain as he glides down a low-rise ramp to abruptly stop a hair before my feet. No matter the location, a skate park is a skate park; skateboards and skateboarders liven the place up. But in the minds of my brothers, Fort Dodge’s only skate park is the one built in our backyard on our concrete slab.

The skate park name, etched with black spray paint onto the newest ramp my brothers created, draws my attention first as I take my seat in the plastic lawn chair sitting on the twenty-five feet long and fifteen feet wide portion of discolored concrete. Recalling the ring of the nails pounding into the smooth, newly acquired wood from the night before, I examine the finished product of a three-foot high slope set up against the left side of the worn, wooden fence that spans the width of the concrete slab. Chris, one of the park’s skaters, obtained a bundle of new wood from his grandfather that they used to build the “highest ramp at Triple L.D.J.” They received the wood with excitement, and after a quick visit to Menards for a smooth piece of plywood, it took another few hundred rings of the hammer on the rusty, used nails to complete the slope. And with a toothy grin, they then painted the skate park name on the worthy plywood, and it forever became the home of five neighborhood skateboarders.

What Triple L.D.J. Looks Like

The hard work my brothers spilled into this project is evident as I glance around at the rest of Triple L.D.J. Near the grass on the left side of the concrete sits two black, store-bought mini ramps the size of a small toddler. The two ramps join together with a black tabletop or platform that creates a miniature bump to skate over. The five skaters of Triple L.D.J. frequently glide up, over, and down the plainly put-together ramp.

The rest of the park is comprised of oversized sections of wood that sit eight-inches off the ground with the help of blocks of wood nailed to them from underneath the uneven structures. Other smaller pieces of thick wood secure onto the larger pieces, making several ramps only inches tall. One of these constructions sits near the house on the right side of the concrete, and another sits to the right side of the fence next to the “largest ramp at Triple L.D.J.” I take a second glance at the many ramps lying on the concrete and notice that they have names on them as well. Skate brand names such as Almost, Adio, Flip, Element, Baker, and DC spread across the ramps with a near empty bottle of spray paint that gives the names a hazy look like that of staring into the sun and seeing spots before your eyes. Remembering the past skate park of the year before, a twinge of pride sets a curve to my lips. My brothers had worked hard, and the effort paid off. Even their skating has improved.

The Skaters of Triple L.D.J.

“Katie! Katie! Watch this!” Isaac, the youngest and most boisterous of my brothers yells to me, tearing my eyes away from my paper. Isaac sat perched up on the high slope, waiting for me to turn my full attention on him, his bright, lengthy blonde hair wafting in the wind. Isaac wears a baggy pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt that match perfectly with his white and red Element shoes from the skating company CCS.

“Go ahead, Isaac,” I say calmly, setting my hands down on my lap and sitting back in my chair. I watch Isaac as he acid drops and makes a clean escape toward the black store-bought ramp, going up, over, and down its shaky surface. Unfortunately, the momentum he gains from the slope sends him straight for the wall of our house, but attuned to the techniques of skateboarding, he shifts his weight to his left foot and his board slides across the concrete on the backside. The second after the board hits the ground, Isaac stops, and the board comes easily to his hands, leaving him standing in the typical skateboarding stance. “Great job, Isaac. You’re getting better!” I encourage him.

Isaac, with a smile, jumps back on his board, or in skateboard terms, he performs a caveman, and glides up the long, wooden low-rise ramp situated to the right of the concrete. For a minute, I let myself stray from Isaac’s progress, and watch my other brothers. Tyler, with that quirky smile on his face that resembles a skilled trickster, practices his kick flip. He has just recently mastered, or semi-mastered, this move. It is the best stunt I’ve seen him do. The flipping of the board under his feet occurs before I can even utter a word. His foot movement resembles a hummingbird’s wings, visible yet invisible at the same precise moment. His thick, curly hair moves just as fast, and his vivid, neon green shirt reflects off the sun, blindly me briefly from his movements. As he lands on the board, I notice his clown-like gray shoes. Wearing khaki shorts only accentuates how large his feet are.

Past his domain, I spot Caleb trying desperately to olie at the right time for my mother, who stands off to the side behind me, to take a picture. Caleb’s long, brown hair that straightens just past his ears flies up as he jumps to the sky. His white, school T-shirt sticks to his chest as he jumps into the air for a second time and his long pair of dark blue jeans lift up to his ankles as he reaches for the sky. Of the three, he is the quietest and the one who stays in the background, never catching my attention with a word from his mouth. While Isaac and Tyler talk and yap consistently, Caleb’s board slams into the concrete like a clap of thunder in the night. My mother, wearing capris and the same T-shirt as Tyler, snaps the digital camera at the right minute to capture the Kodak moment.

After the “thunder” dissipates, I wave at Connor, dressed in a red Fort Dodge baseball T-shirt and jean shorts, to come stand next to me. He has forgotten his board at home and stands to the side, waiting for his moment to skate for a second or two. He willingly strolls over to my chair with his head tilted down, and I ask him, “Do you know the parts of a board?” He answers with a smile, but his voice is deep and serious as he points to the parts of the boards that skid past us. The deck, or the actual skate “board,” is the first he mentions. Then there is the grip tape that helps shoes stay sturdy on the deck without slipping, the trucks that connect the wheels to the deck, and then the bearings that make the wheels turn. Other modifications such as risers that prevent the board from breaking in two attach under the trucks of my brother’s boards. He mentions other parts, but I can’t keep track of them all. Many modifications are available for a skateboard that make it sturdier, stronger, easier to maneuver, and made to last longer. Connor could have gone on forever, but Tyler hands him a board, and Connor takes off, savoring what precious seconds he has to slide up the ramps.

Milling about in the center of all the raucous is the last of the neighborhood boys, Chris. He is as silent as Isaac is loud. Watching Chris I notice that his movements on the board are that of a beginner, but he is a decent skateboarder in his own right nonetheless. His blond hair is cut short on top of his baby face so his left ear can sport his plastic circle earring. He sports an Iowa Hawkeye’s T-shirt and jean shorts. I never hear a word from him; even when I cheer him on, his expression always remains the same. I don’t even know if he has teeth!

Triple L.D.J. Skateboarding

Hearing Tyler whistle, I glance his way to watch him slide down one of the ramps. As soon as he passes me, I hear Isaac singing a familiar song. “I walked down the lonely road…” The sounds of birds chirping behind me reaches my ears, and the wind rustles through the trees, lifting the leaves up and breaking several off the branches to flutter to the ground. Then I notice the sky darkening, threatening us to move indoors, but the boys seem not to notice. Their minds are on one thing. Skateboarding. A stumble and a fall can break their hearts or a bone, but it’s standing back up, getting on that board, and skating off again that makes the skateboarder. As in life, it can go fast or slow, good or bad, a tumble here or there, but rising up again and facing our falls is what “skateboarding” is all about.