Samantha and I left for Boston before the sun rose the following day. We each knew that perhaps the weather would not be forgiving in some places and that the trip was long to start with. We would be returning to Boston first and then Andrew and I would return to Burlington.

I was quiet for most of the way. There was a few times when Samantha brought up our long discussion at the mall, but each time I tried to shift the discussion in another direction. I was in no mood to talk about a wedding, even though I had with some relative enthusiasm just two days before. I hoped and prayed that Samantha could not see thru my new found confusion.

Sensing that she knew somehow, I turned on the radio. I was able to get her to sing along with me, even though I was not in the mood. It worked for a while. As I looked out the window, the fog and gloomy skies seemed to be a reflection of my own inner mood.

Many hours later, we finally reached Boston. Samantha asked what was wrong, to which I simply stated that I was tired. While the bulk of the trip had been relaxing, my mood had now made a colossal shift that I was trying to hide. She accepted my answer with some skepticism, and we kissed and hugged. I watched her return to her dorm where she waved from the front steps before I drove away.

I thought on the drive over about telling Andrew. However, I decided at this point that I would have to figure this one out on my own. I felt a letter brewing up; as I felt I needed Dad's guidance. In the end, I had resigned to the fact that only I could make, and feel comfortable, with the final decision. It would take some soul-searching, but I had time left in Vermont to be alone with my thoughts.

Andrew and I made it into Burlington around midnight. We were both tired from the journey, and spoke only a few times to keep each other awake. While I wanted to tell someone what I was thinking, I reserved the first emotions for a letter to my father. I needed to get my thoughts down on paper. 

After dinner, we retreated home for the evening. Samantha and I watched television for a bit, and then it was time to retire.

It was only 10:00 PM when I crawled into bed, but I was still wide awake at 3:00 AM. "Did I really have a strong reservation about 'till death do us  part' ", I thought? The ceiling seemed to be staring back at me as I was it. but no answers came.

I managed to sleep from about 3:00 AM to 7:30 AM. Samantha and I had one more day to spend in Frostburg, and then it would be back to Boston and Burlington. The final day was spent mostly in relaxation. I took Samantha to Main Street Books and we each selected a novel to read. It had been quite some time since I had read for pleasure, and we each read for three hours that afternoon.

In the evening, we took a short stroll. The winter weather in Frostburg was quite similar to that of Massachusetts and Vermont. I was no stranger to harsh winters growing up. Despite the cold and wintery mix below our feet, we walked and talked for about thirty minutes. Returning home, it was time for a hot shower, some hot chocolate and a warm bed.

Samantha went to bed before I did that evening, and I stayed up to chat with Dad. We talked about nothing specific. Generally, he wanted to know what school was like, how I was getting along with my new friends, and my personal financial situation. I was still in the "black", and that is what mattered. My father once again offered help if I needed it.

As I gazed down into an empty glass of scotch, I wandered what was truly going on inside my head. I had never given a second thought to my commitment to Samantha prior to Dad's question. In no way was he wrong in asking; as it was out of general concern for my welfare. However, the question continued to be a point of contention and confusion in my mind. I would have to tackle this mountain, also; in Vermont.

We met my parents at the usual place in Frostburg, Guiseppe's Italian Restaurant. Samantha and I arrived a few minutes before our scheduled reservation and Mom and Dad were there at 6:00 PM on the dot. We were ushered to a quiet table in the front of the house near a fireplace, making the occasion just a touch more special.

Samantha and I decided earlier that we would share with my parents a little about our plans. We were officially beginning to make plans for our nuptial, and I knew that at the very least my mother would be thrilled. While it was just as important; if not more so, to share the ideas with Samantha's parents, it was my mother and father who were privy to our plans first. We would tell Samantha's parents when I dropped her off back in Boston.

My father and I ordered Chicken Parmigiana, my mother Eggplant Parmigiana, and Samantha had the vegetable lasagna. Dad had taken the luxury of ordering a nice Chianti which was served with the meal. Prior to, we each had a beer from Anchor Steam Brewing Company. The kitchen is usually busy, but they were able to get our food out in a timely fashion. This was something that the owner had perfected many years ago. He was good about getting fresh Italian on a plate in a timely manner.

Between dinner and dessert, the ladies excused themselves. This gave the opportunity for my father and I to talk for a few minutes. I can say that I got the normal questions. "Was I ready for marriage", and "Do you feel as though you can support your wife"? These were the easy ones. The last was the kicker. "Do you believe deep down that you are prepared to commit yourself to Samantha for the rest of your life?" I nodded in the affirmative; not showing the ounce of hesitation in my positive response. I knew that later, I would be pondering this question and giving it more reflection.

When my mother and Samantha returned, I got up and put them each in a chair. I kissed Samantha on the forehead after she pushed her way snug against the table. I gazed at her all through dessert. The coffee and Tiramisu were excellent. My mind however, was drifting to lands far away.

After another great day with Samantha's parents in New Jersey, we got a good nite's rest and awoke at 7:00 AM to leave for Frostburg.

We arrived a little before noon. Samantha ad only been to a few restaurants in town, but she had already visited the highlights. We were certainly going to eat there again; as the better spots are where the locals go.

Samantha had never been to a Bob Evans restaurant, so we decided to go there for lunch. They serve breakfast all day, and I was in the mood for the first-and probably most important-meal of the day. I ordered a "Country Sampler" plate, complete with eggs, toast, bacon, home fries and a piece of ham. If that was not enough, it also came with three pancakes. Samantha instead opted for lunch and had a soup and salad combo. She was a fan of the Caesar Salad and had one with her Italian Wedding soup.

After lunch, we went to our mall. It was a pitiful example in comparison to what was in Boston, or Burlington, or nearly any place in America that one might go, but it allowed us time to get some exercise and just talk about our future. For some reason, our conversation drifted toward weddings.

Despite the fact that we were engaged, we had never really talked about what we would like to have as preferences in our wedding. We had sadly not even picked a date. Undoubtedly, it would have to be after my mission ended; hopefully resulting in the outcome of obtaining the designation as Master Sommelier.

As we walked and talked, we spouted off a million ideas that all seemed like good ones. We were certainly not the first couple to do this, and would not be he last. Time flew by, and we had plans to meet my parents for dinner at 6:00 PM. While the mall was a non-event, and no shopping was done, it was certainly a profitable excursion; and would become a memorable one.  

The time spent with Samantha's parents was time well spent. I slept in until nearly 10:00 AM the following morning. This was certainly a change from my normal routine, as I had been getting up at 5:00 AM to workout with Andrew. On this vacation, I intended to relax and enjoy myself.

I was asked to jump in the shower and get ready to leave rather quickly, as Samantha's mother had booked a reservation at a local restaurant for brunch. I had become accustomed to eating French toast topped with fruit and whipped cream, and I did not deviate that morning. Along with some bacon, sausage and eggs, I was ready to tackle the rest of the day.

We returned to the house and for some reason I was still tired. I laid down to take a nap, and Samantha joined me. We slept from 2:00 - 5:00 PM, and awoke to the scent of a homemade meal. Ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce and rolls from the oven. I could not have been happier.

My thoughts drifted to Oscar for a minute. He did not have the money to travel home to Charleston during the eight-day break, and part of me felt sorrow. He had been cooking for us each nite for seven weeks. And while we all pitched in for groceries, I wished at that moment that I could have paid for a plane ticket for Oscar to go home. Thankfully, he would have the company of Billy and Jeff in Burlington, which allayed my concern somewhat.

Everything that Samantha's mother cooked that evening was phenomenal. I had been used to the spicy flavours of the Deep South, and this hallmark, American holiday meal was as appealing as anything had ever been. My taste buds danced with delight.

That evening, after everyone had been in bed for some time, Samantha tip-toed over to my room. As she laid her head on my shoulder, I felt the rush of the emotion of our physical closeness clamor up and down my body. It had been some time since I had held her close, and I needed to feel her warmth and affection. She stayed with me until the early morning; crawling back into her bed at 5:00 AM. We each arose around 7:00 AM, and spent another day at her home. Tomorrow morning, we were leaving for Frostburg.

Friday would be lost as it was a day spent on the road. A touch over three hours to Boston with Andrew, almost six to New Jersey to Samantha's parents, and then the final leg a few days later to see my parents was just over four hours.

Andrew was fairly quiet the entire way from Burlington to Boston. My best guess is that we were both decompressing from the seven grueling weeks of classroom and evening extracurricular activities. Surely our livers would additionally thank us if we took a few days off from tasting. I turned on the radio at one point and Andrew asked me to turn it off after about twenty minutes. It seemed that he really needed peace and quiet.

When I dropped him off, he thanked me and handed me a fifty-dollar bill. I told him I didn't need the money, but he insisted. As I pulled away he waved, and I saw it faintly in the rear-view mirror.

Samantha was waiting on the steps outside her dormitory room when I arrived. She was more than ready to get out of Boston for a few days. She was also excited to see her parents, and she shared that she was excited to see mine; which made me smile.

As we drove to New Jersey, we sang along with the radio. Neither of us could carry a tune, but it mattered not. And when we were not singing, Samantha was speed-talking. It seemed like she was speaking at a pace that rivaled the miles-per-hour that I was driving. Despite the fact that we talked a few times a week, there was much that I had missed.

The six hours of "windshield time" that we spent together seemed to fly by. It felt like we made it to New Jersey in no time. When we walked in the front door, we were greeted with hugs and kisses. Even I received a "half-hug" in conjunction with the handshake that her father gave me. We decided we would stay for three days, and then head to Maryland for the final four. What I needed more than anything, was a good nite's rest.

The minute I finished my letter to Samantha, I felt a sense of peace rush over me. In two weeks I would be going home. It had been quite a while since I had seen Samantha and my father and mother. I was excited to go home.

I was getting more excited each day about my time in Vermont and my chosen career path. It makes a difference to know that you are doing what you are uniquely designed to be doing, and this was a feeling I had yet to feel in my life. Like a great love, it is and was intoxicating!

My relationships were strengthening. The five of us became inseparable. Perhaps this was because we saw each other every day and had tastings every nite; but despite the simple factor of time spent together, we genuinely enjoyed each others company. Somehow the intricacies of our personalities seemed to mesh at a specific point that allowed us in concert to seem like one. The five of us had become a singular force in some ways. And with the same goal in mind, we all believed we were unstoppable.

Soon after our study of France and French wine was over. It was time for a break, and we all felt spent by the time the clock ticked three on the last day of class. While it was far from all-encompassing, we had learned far more than your average wine connoisseur will learn in a lifetime. When we returned, we would be moving on to Italy, a country I felt more confident with.

I was excited to learn about Italy as it would provide a foundation and a basis to use for the trip I had planned for Samantha and I. Surely, I would find the "diamonds in the rough" from our studies. Kevin would be able to shed some lite on the subject; after all, the additional letters after his name were good for something, weren't they?

It was a Thursday afternoon when we finished our last class. As I packed the car, I again felt a deep calm rush over me. I was preparing for a trip home; a trip I was sure that I needed for my physical and emotional health, and my sanity.

Samantha,

Things are going well here at the Vermont Wine School. I have met four great guys that I believe will become lifelong friends. Andrew from Boston, Billy from D.C., Jeff from Colorado and Oscar from South Carolina. 

Andrew has a rough exterior but has opened up and now I am starting to see the true side of his person and personality. Billy grew up well, but is humble; a trait I can appreciate. Jeff has had me in stitches for the past few weeks with his quick-wit and he has become my partner on the slopes for our routine weekend exercise. Oscar is the resident cook, and is keeping us full with dishes from the Deep South.

I have enjoyed getting to know each one of them and it seems like a learn something new about them and about myself each and every day. As I am looking back; albeit short in nature, my time spent in Vermont has allowed me to grow in many ways. Personally, and now professionally; I have set myself on a path that I hope leads to success.

I am missing you and also Dad and Mom. Having said that, it will be a few weeks before I have a break in my class schedule, but I intend to come home. I may give Andrew a ride to Boston and I was hoping that you would go with me to Frostburg to see my parents. I was going to surprise you and whisk you away, but since we will be traveling to Maryland for a few days, I  thought I should give you time to plan.

Samantha, I am missing you greatly! However, as I have said before, I believe in what I am doing and believe that I am destined to be doing it at this very moment. 

With Love,


Me

One might have put Jeff in the category of "ski bum", but ironically he was the most proper of the group. He was familiar with the slopes, but was additionally familiar with all the finer things in life.

He definitely had a "Colorado flair" about him, usually sporting a long-sleeved shirt with a vest as an additional layer.He wore some of the usual suspects from the ski community; North Face, Patagonia, Columbia and the like. He appreciated a Coors Light; being from the Rocky Mountains, but wine was his passion.

Jeff became our "go-to" guy with respect to unknown territories. He was familiar with wines from up-and-coming areas of the United States. New Mexico, Texas, Arizona and New York for example. He was quite the aficionado when it came to the Finger Lakes Region and even further into Canada. Ditto with New Mexico and Arizona. If there was an undiscovered wine region in the continental United States, Jeff knew about it.

His knowledge could not be overlooked, as he would prove to be a formidable asset during our tasting time each nite. Jeff was a fan of steak and Southwestern-style cooking, and on occasion put in his requests to Oscar, our resident chef.

Jeff and I skied on the weekends to clear our heads and he also enjoyed hiking. The landscape in Vermont was certainly different from Boulder, and Jeff planned to take advantage of it. One of our favourite things to do after a long day on the slopes or a long session of tasting was to enjoy a cigar. While not the best for our palates, Jeff and I reasoned that a Cohiba here and there would not ruin our ability to taste.  

Oscar was a bit of a wild-card. Not wild in the sense that he was always a shoe-in to throw you off-guard with his speech or behaviour, he was just different. He was Southern born and bred, and when I say southern, he was the epitome of the deep south. Born and raised in Charleston, he was our resident chef during our late nites of drunken candor.

Charleston and other cities in the deep south are known for their seafood, gumbo, corn bread and biscuits, gravy, and their desserts. Oscar was more than adept at cooking them all and he did so with pride and joy.

Oscar's affiliation with wine was at the outset mostly proficient with dry to semi-sweet whites. He appreciated the Chardonnays, Rieslings and Sauvignon Blancs. What stood out in the crowd of these was his knowledge of German Rieslings. He had spent two full semesters of college in Germany, and had tasted some of their finest offerings while visiting Germany and the neighboring countries.

He had spent most of his time in Cologne, but also traveled north to Hamburg; northeast to Berlin and directly south to Munich. In addition, he had been to Prague, Paris and Milan. While he spent only two weeks in Paris over his summer break, he did have the chance to "meet" a few wines while visiting, which made him not too unfamiliar with France and French wine.

Oscar was the quiet one in the bunch, but you could always tell he was thinking. I could appreciate his ability to be calculating; always learning and desiring to learn new things. He would provide his opinion when asked, but for the most part learned from doing and experiencing, and spoke little. However, when he spoke, it was worth listening.

Billy was without doubt a "city boy." Raised just a few blocks from Pennsylvania Avenue, he grew up without wanting for anything. His father a lobbyist, and his mother an attorney; they were certainly among the elite and were devoted socialites in the D.C. scene. While Billy grew up not wanting for anything, he was humble; a quality which I admired.

He was the shortest of the bunch, but would have survived the Holocaust as he had bright blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes. He dressed in a "preppy" sort of way with a bit of flair, but his outward appearance was never overstated.

Billy had a refined palate; and at the outset, perhaps would have been my pick from our cohort to make it through the grueling process that the court presents to candidates. He had been to some of the finest restaurants in the country, as they were in his backyard. Jose Andres comes to mind, and when I asked Billy stated that he had been to all of his "fine establishments."

Billy was no slouch when it came to wine. He was a fan of the Napa Valley and would become our teacher with respect to California. His father had been collecting Napa Cabernets for the past thirty years and had some of the most famous and sought after wines in all the world in his personal cellar. With a simple phone call, Billy would surely be able to make the request of a few heavy-hitters from Napa to be sent our way.

I appreciated his humour as well. He had a quick-wit about him, and one could nary get a joke past him. My guess is that he would had scored in the top ten percent on his SAT's, and at a young age been identified as someone with a far better than average intelligence quotient.

Billy became the partner in this process that I would lean on and cling most to. His palate, enthusiasm, intelligence and quick-wit made him a person that was hard not to respect or be fond of.

Andrew from Boston was an interesting chap. He had grown up in a rougher part of Boston, and had a rough exterior that he carried around with him. He attended Boston College and had worked at an upscale restaurant where he developed his personal taste for wine and the industry. He was taller than the rest of us at 6'4" and could just have easily landed in Manhattan and passed for a Calvin Klein model. Despite his stature and good looks, he was kind and humble.

He talked me into beginning to work out with him at a local gym each morning, and I hoped that the thirty-nine dollar per month fee would be worth the cost. In time, I guess I would be able to tell. Having committed to a new venture in the area of personal health, I was getting up at the crack of dawn each day to begin my day with Andrew.

We sometimes went for breakfast before class started at the Skinny Pancake. While new to Andrew, I was able to reconnect with the place myself; having spent some time in Burlington previously just a few months ago. He personally enjoyed the pancakes and I preferred the fruit and whipped cream-topped French Toast. We each were carnivores and always had sausage or bacon; along with coffee and juice.

Classes began each day promptly at 9:00 AM. We were three weeks into our study of France and French wine and it seemed like the pace was accelerating at an alarming rate. I quickly realized that one would never know all there is to know about French wine, which eased my mind a bit. Having had that "aha!" moment made me relax some and allowed me to focus on learning as much as I possibly could, but at the same time allowed me the ability to free myself from the things that went in; and then promptly out, of my head.

We had breaks throughout the day and at times the five of us would go to lunch. I had been selected to be the dining "commander", as I was the only one of the five who had spent any time in Vermont. Each day was different, and each nite the same; as we indulged ourselves without abandon into French wine.

There were four in my class; as I mentioned, that would attempt to become sommeliers.

Andrew from Boston; ironically. Billy from D.C. Oscar from Charleston, South Carolina, and Jeff from Boulder, Colorado. Each of them had come to Vermont to expand their horizons in the world of wine with our famous instructor, Kevin Cleary.

In addition to his expansive education in wine and spirits, Kevin and his wife owned a restaurant and also a wine bar and shop. He had a long history of business and industry knowledge and somehow picked Burlington as a place to launch his school. Perhaps he was a skier like me...I wondered.

In addition to classes each day, the five of us would taste five to ten wines each nite. Since we were focusing on French wine, it was best to stick to French wine in our tasting. We needed to learn about geography, terroir, tasting, and many other ancillary subjects.

Kevin was an amazing instructor and had a few other excellent members on his staff. One could tell that he was serious about putting Vermont Wine School and Burlington, Vermont on the map. At the time that I attended the school, it had been open for five years and had produced seven sommeliers. I was going to be the eighth, and I had hoped to drag one of my buddies with me.

Samantha and Dad were excited that I had a few others around me to give me a collective focus to my goal. With five of us having the same goal, certainly we would be able to educate and encourage each other.

Samantha and I talked more and more often, as I was filling her head with the knowledge that I personally gained each day. My excitement could be heard thru the phone, she said.

I was well on my way to becoming America's next sommelier!