Ode to Vermont

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.