The “faster, newer, slicker” technology-driven world yields to the past inside the Circus Skate Roller Skating Rink in Murray.
Joe Nanny caringly maintains the time machine.
Kids, literally and figuratively, wearing eight wheels split between two boots spend weekend nights with only one concern: staying upright.
Joe, 70, the emcee and retired Army officer, left the military after two tours in Vietnam. He wanted to return to his roots, leave some negativity behind and do something positive.
“Positive” transformed to the rink.
“You know, my momma actually got mad at me when I was born ’cause I came out with skates on,” Joe said with a wide grin.
On a Friday night, a digital clock blinked to 7:45 p.m., and Joe skateboarded across the rink floor to the doors that opened in 15 minutes. Joe does not rush — any time. And no one skateboards on the rink floor but Joe.
He pulls open blinds that separate peace inside from chaos outside, and the throng presses toward the door.
At 8 p.m., the 15 minutes that passed turns to three decades passed.
He greets each patron by name, and everyone greets him the same as they rush to give Joe $5 at the turnstile. Those presenting crumpled money do not advance until they smooth it. Joe expects that courtesy.
The night passes sans arguments or dustups. Joe achieves that by offering games and playing song requests.
But camaraderie — and Joe — brings the crowd back night after night. Like the theme song from the TV show “Cheers” notes, “sometimes you want to go, where everybody knows your name.”
About 15 minutes out, Joe settles the crowd for the 10:30 p.m. shutdown: The lights dim, the music slows.
Some squeeze in a few more passes, like journalists pushing a deadline. But most roll off the floor to remove skates and head to the door. Joe beats them there, ready to say “goodbye” to each by name. He asks if they enjoyed the skate.
The rink becomes silent. Joe chains the doors and shuts off the lights.
The past fades to the present. Today tilts toward tomorrow.
And tomorrow Joe turns back the clock . . . again.
