As a fourth grader, there was only one job I considered worthy.Scientist? Feh. Engineer? Please. I felt I was destined to be a professional downhill skier. Why would I want to shake test tubes inside all day when I could be burning my lips off flying down a mountain? Fast forward eight years, and while I have grown to understand and respect professions from all walks of life, my passion for skiing remains ever so present. When I ski, I fly. Nothing can catch me. No physics problem set, no essay on Beowulf’s attitude towards Grendel, no marketing presentation could ever do more than nip at my heels when I’m gliding down the slopes.
When my grandfather died, I wept. I cried. I mourned. And then I skied. My dad took me to Stratton mountain
When my grandfather died, I wept. I cried. I mourned. And then I skied. My dad took me to Stratton mountain