One of the principal benefits of membership in Realskiers.com is the right to correspond with yours truly one-on-one, that I might address and ultimately resolve your most urgent, ski-related issues. As skiing, in my view, reaches into all aspects of one’s being – sensual, technical, athletic, intellectual and spiritual – no queries are off-limits, although the reliability of my answers increases the closer we hew to my core competence.
In this week’s Revelation and attendant podcast, I want to remind my Dear Readers and Listeners that this unusual access to an unrivaled store of experience in the field perches precariously on a fragile foundation, namely, you.
That’s right, just as in your childhood fantasies, the future we all want to believe in can only be assured by your personal intervention. If the past has taught us anything, it’s that you cannot count on your hypothetical “neighbor” to step up and fill the considerable gap in my personal finances that yawns before us. No, the solution begins with you accepting the inevitability of your role, that saving mankind begins at home, in particular my home, without which saving a bunch of other homes, such as your own, won’t mean much to posterity.
I think a clever soul such as yourself would realize by now the severity of the situation. If this doesn’t describe you, imagine that Realskiers has been convicted of a crime it did not commit and was sentenced to die unless the pardon you’re crafting arrives in time. While you diddled vaingloriously over the finer points of your copious legalese, Realskiers was executed.
At this moment, I want you to pause and feel just how much you’ve disappointed me, and more importantly, yourself. Awful feeling, isn’t it? I’ll bet you feel like you did when you were first caught lying, probably about breaking a favorite vase while rough-housing, or maybe insider trading or Medicare fraud. You see, life, in all its mystery, has consequences. If you believe otherwise, I want to know your secret.
By now, you’re probably wondering where this fascinating train of thought is heading. As in all good mysteries, it’s heading back to you and your pivotal role in my personal journey. You see, you have something I want more of, and who are you to deny me? After all we’ve been through together, the late-night bickering, the pre-dawn caterwauling we can’t even remember the details about anymore; let’s put all that aside and just focus on what you can do for me now.
Ok, here it is: I need more money, and it might as well come from you. Oh, I know what you’re going to say, that you “already gave at the office,” or “you already double-billed me.” True, but that was in the past; that was the Old Me, the Pre-Enlightenment Me. I’m ten times the person now, but only twice as much in debt. You see, I’m growing up right before your ancient, rheumy eyes.
I could yell examples of my plight into your ears at deafening decibels and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference, so I’ll forego the usual auditory assault. Instead, let’s gloss over our past squabbles over who-billed-whom-how-much and get back on point: it’s been a solid ten seconds since I asked for more money and you haven’t made the slightest move to fulfill this simple request. Some kind of friend you turned out to be.
But it’s not too late for us to get back on track, to re-build what we once had! In the misty past, you could have argued that I haven’t provided you with the means to send me extra money unless I billed you several times over for the same service, a practice some prickly subscribers protested.
But that tired argument will no longer hold water, as today we have installed a digital “Tip Jar” right on the Realskiers.com home page! Now there’s no reason not to send an appreciable chunk of your disposable income directly to Realskiers.com, and I’ll take it from there, trust me.
Think of all the money I’ve saved you over the years, not to mention the unquantifiable value of being a Realskiers.com member, instead of some ignorant, self-hating schlub. Now take that money, multiply it by the current rate of inflation and send it back to me, thereby closing the Circle of Life and restoring mankind to something closer to its true, and as yet unrealized, potential.
If that sounds like a big, important job, who’s to say it isn’t? Do your part. Be somebody involved with something that’s bigger than you are, and far, far more important. Under these circumstances, how can you say no? I anticipate that you will soon stop reading or listening to this rant so that you can unclog your mind and send me more money with a clear conscience.
To prove my prescience, I furthermore predict you will stop reading – or listening – in the next few seconds. What you do in the immediate aftermath, alone with your conscience, will matter more to me than either of us can possibly say.
Please, for everyone’s benefit, don’t screw it up. If you donate right now, I can assure you that you’ll experience a surge of self-esteem that will last at least until your payment is no longer refundable.
Amen.
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Road Tripping
Among the many dissatisfactions of this most unusual season is that travel beyond one’s local environs has been roundly discouraged. Don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful down to my socks that we’re allowed to ski locally, and my version of same is pretty sweet. Pardon the plug, but between Alpine Meadows, Squaw Valley and Mt. Rose I have a smorgasbord of savory choices.
But skiing close to home and skiing on the road are two different beasts. Nothing is the same, really, and therein lies a great deal of the road trip’s charms.
To shed light on my premise, allow me to pull back the veil on my favorite away game, an annual pilgrimage to Little Cottonwood Canyon. By the end of this brief travelogue you will probably hate me, so please fill your vessel of good will to the rim before proceeding.
It’s About Nothing
In the last week of January,2009 I was able to spend a few days skiing in Little Cottonwood Canyon, which is always cathartic for my ravaged soul. The conditions were all over the map, the mountains having experienced a long, hot spell followed by rain, grapple, wet snow and finally dry snow driven by winds that could flense an adult walrus in a few minutes. Couldn’t have been better.
I had been preparing for the trip for weeks, psychologically. Two back surgeries the previous winter had reduced my training regimen from semi-annual to non-existent. Scheduling conflicts such as work kept me from visiting the areas that abound at home near Lake Tahoe, so I had zero ski days on a body with more fat on it than a French duck. I had as much chance of surviving Snowbird and Alta as a rib roast in a piranha tank.
Fortunately, the Lord is merciful, anti-inflammatory drugs are powerful and there are techniques that allow one to block out pain. There are also many wonderful people in this world with which to ski, kind people who stand quietly by, pretending to be in awe of Nature, while my chest heaves so violently in its futile quest for oxygen that tiny lung particles break lose and make for the exits. One such person is Guru Dave Powers, a man whose passion for the sport hasn’t diminished after thousands of days of riding gravity down the infinitely variable slopes and crannies of Snowbird. The Goo knows this hill, and in knowing it well knows so much more.
The Making of a Skier, Chapter XII: Putting Words into the Mouth of God & Other Mid-Life Adventures
When I was cut adrift by Head on June 13, 2001, my once glowing prospects dimmed considerably. The date is etched in memory because I hosted a small soirée that evening in honor of my darling wife’s 50th birthday. One of the attendees was Paul Hochman, who would play several roles in my life as I wandered in the wilderness of unemployment during what were supposed to be my peak earning years.
During the gaping hole in my career that spanned 2001-2011, I would eventually spend every cent of my inheritance, plus most of what I’d saved from earlier bouts with gainful employment, just keeping the household afloat. Despite a river of red ink, my resume would suggest that I was not only commercially active during this epoch, but had my hand in all sorts of ventures.
