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Ski Resort Life

Ode to Vermont

I’d like to apologize to everyone in those liftlines whose skis I walked on.

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I’d like to thank all the guys—students at Norwich University, all pushing retirement age by now—who gave me shoulder rides to the top of my local hill in central Vermont. I was five, too small to hold down the poma platter. They made a little boy with a runny nose very happy. Man, how I loved to ski when I was five.

And I’d like to apologize to everyone in those liftlines whose skis I walked on—just walked on—as
 I cut my way to the front each run. My parents didn’t ski, and I guess everyone else was too nice to correct me. The following year, I broke my leg on a kicker my brother built in our back yard. Maybe even five-year-olds need to mind their karma.

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