Connie’s Memories Cont’d.

Hi All, sorry for not posting but my poor laptop has been on vacation. It may happen again for the next couple of weeks until I get reliable WiFi. But she needed a vacation anyway.

I know I talked about how my brother and I learned to ski. He became a much better skier than I did. Not because his skiing ability was better but because he had way more guts than I did.

Anyway, when I was in jr. or sr. high school my great uncle (who had money in those days) died and left my mother a station wagon. This would have been around 1950. It was one of those wagons that had the laminated wooden sides. You still see some of them around in parades. This was wonderful for us because we could now go places on Sundays.

One of the small towns about 20 miles from us had just built a new small ski area with a tow rope. They did have big ski areas in other parts of Maine, but we could not afford them or get there. Anyway, my father brought us skiing one Sunday afternoon. By then I had another younger brother and a sister and since my mother didn’t come, she must have been home taking care of them.

The ski area had a small shack to run the tow and that was it. There were no lights and skiing ended around 4PM. I had never really learned how to stop quickly at the bottom of a hill, so it was an experience because there was no place to go once you hit the bottom. I still remember falling down to stop the first few times until I copied what others were doing and stopped the right way.

When it was time to leave, the tow stopped and the building closed up. I still remember there were lights in the parking lot, and when we walked to the car my father could not find his keys and he had no extra ones. We walked all over in the dusk looking for anywhere he could have dropped them in the snow. I was dark on the hill so we couldn’t look up there. There was no AAA in those days, and no cell phones, the shack was closed, so we were getting worried. All of a sudden, my father realized that he had a bunch in his boots. They were the kind you pulled on over your shoes. Remember we skied in our boots so he had not taken them off. When he took of his boots there were the keys. Hurray, he found he had a small hole in his pocket and the keys had slipped thru and down into his boots. Believe me, we were glad to be home that night.

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