I don’t remember when Mimi first talked about skiing, but I was very young. She had great stories to tell about her adventures studying and traveling in Europe on the GI Bill after her time in the WAC in New Guinea. Chamonix and Zermatt were her favorites but she skied in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, France and Italy. On occasion, she would start in one country and ski down in the alps into a different country and have to take the train back across the border. As I discovered later, she became quite an accomplished skier.
I loved hearing these stories. She promised me that when I got old enough she would teach me to ski. My parents were decidedly unenthusiastic. I was never sure why, but I suspect that it was an activity they couldn’t participate in, was expensive, didn’t fit well with our family outings, and had some risk of injury. At any rate, when I was about 14 Mimi bought me some Northland skis and poles for Christmas and we went to a ski shop in Eastchester to purchase boots, bindings, and some ski clothes.
That winter she took me skiing for a day several times, to places Bellayre and Catamount on bus trips organized by the Sig Buchmayr store at the Westchester County Center.
The next winter we went for a week between Christmas and New Year’s to Jackson, NH and stayed at the foot of Black Mountain in Whitney’s. They had a rope tow, a chair lift, and a skating rink. She made me take private lessons in the morning (from a terrific instructor named Jean) and then we skied together in the afternoon. By the end of the week, I could ski everything on Black Mountain.
Subsequent winters, in addition to a couple day trips on the bus, we spent the post-Christmas week in places like Cranmore, Sugarbush and Mt. Ellen, Mt. Snow, and Mt. Tremblant. Eventually I was old enough to share in the driving in Poor Joe.
Those were pretty special times for me.