From fairy tales to film, everyone is obsessed with the idea of one’s “firstborn.” But what about the lastborn?
For my part, I’ve recently discovered that the lastborn child has magical abilities.
Of course, you have no idea what I’m talking about right now. Allow me to explain:
At the end of a long vacation week came a ski day for my wife, daughter and me. Discussions went back and forth as to where to go. Mount Wachusett never became an option given it is an over priced, over crowded, underwhelming experience in spite of their advertising (I think the slogan should be - “little mountain skiing at big mountain prices: you might find worse, but you won’t pay more”).
Other options included mountains around two hours away. We eventually settled on a return to Crotched Mountain where my daughter has been involved in a thoroughly enjoyable school ski program, in stark contrast to prior experiences at the operation criticized above.
I hadn’t been to Crotched Mountain in over twenty six years and found it to be a thoroughly pleasant, small mountain experience that likely could use a few more customers. It’s a perfect little place to take novice and intermediate skiers without having to pay for the lift tickets with a financing plan.
So, on Saturday we loaded up the car for a little quality time on the slopes. We planned our arrival perfectly, we would have about 20 minutes before the lifts opened to suit up and get on the mountain for some early groomed runs.
There was, however, one slight glitch that became apparent only after we parked in the Crotched Mountain parking lot.
My daughter forgot her ski coat.
The equanimity with which I took this news astounded me. It was if I left my own body and observed this aging, portly man operating with extreme calm. Read More
