I’m going to fast forward once again to my high school days. In the early nineties, I spent many a weekend at a friend’s house near Deep Creek Lake. His father a wine shop owner, his mother an educational activist and artist; two younger sisters, and then there was Lee. 

Lee played tight end on the varsity football team and was incredibly athletic. Compared to me, he simply ran circles around me on the slopes whether it be on skies or even a snowboard, sad to say. I remember spending many a time trying to navigate the moguls to catch up, but he was too far gone. On blistery days or when they were making snow, I would lose him in an instant. Despite his advanced ability, he was my best friend on the lake. We would even keep up with each other once we parted ways in high school and headed to college.

I always knew that Lee would end up on the west coast, and shortly after graduation he did. But it was two weeks in Vermont that I will never forget, and this is where my story really starts…