usadeepsouth.com
To Ski or not to Ski
by Beth Boswell Jacks
Brave, charge-ahead folks don't understand people like me. Where they are "no guts, no glory" daredevils, I am prudent, cautious, and just pretty generally chicken-livered.
Hooked on snow skiing over twenty years ago, hubby G-Man still insists we make a Colorado pilgrimage every year, and every year I question his sanity. Am I the only one around those mountains with good sense?
Quite often I see men and women tentatively snow plowing down the slippery slopes. Their skis are wedged tightly, almost as tightly as their lips. Their hands grip poles in a "save me!" posture, and in their bulging eyes I see unadulterated terror. I identify and want to yell at them, "Hey, honey! Give it up. It's OK. You'll be no less a person. Trust me -- I'm the consummate non-snow bunny."
Think about it. We don't have snow skiing in Mississippi, so that means we have to travel a great distance to put these boards on our feet and slide, willy nilly, through the snow and ice. We're packed in a condo with the kids, not one of whom can find all the paraphernalia required for hours in the cold -- gloves, long johns, turtlenecks, sweaters, insulated jackets, waterproof pants, wool socks -- which means somebody, usually mama, has to be the official hunter and sorter. The whole ordeal, including chapped lips and sunburned faces, costs too much money, and I haven't even touched on the pain. And this is fun?
I have long admired the chutzpah of my pal Becky who went skiing for the first time and hated it immediately. In spite of her dislike she advanced beyond Fanny Hill and was taken up the mountain on the chair lift by her instructor. She soon found herself staring over what appeared to her to be an elevator shaft-like cliff.
"I'm not going down that," she said. "Put me back on the chair lift."
"You can't go down on the chair lift," the instructor said. "Nobody does that. You've got to ski down."
"Listen, buster," Becky said, "I rented these skis from your company. If you don't put me on that chair lift I'm going to pitch these blankety-blank skis over that cliff and you can go get em."
She rode down on the chair lift.
I reached the same decision finally after 10 years in the "Never Ever" beginner classes. I'd gathered enough courage to go with the hot shot members of my family to reaches unknown farther up the mountain, and I snow plowed down the Big Burn with my heart racing ten times faster than my skis.
Wouldn't you know? The others had a ball. "Let's go up and do it again!" they cheered.
Ha! No way was I going to risk life and limb again on the Big Burn.
"No thanks," I said. "I'll make it down to the condo by myself. Y'all go ahead."
I got half-way down and realized I didn't know where in the world I was. Perched on a steep overhang, up to my knees in snow, freezing, I made a vow.
"Lord, if you'll get me down from here I'll never put a pair of skis on my feet ever again."
With tears frozen on my chapped cheeks, nose running, body aching, I finally inched down the mountain, partially on skis but mostly on my derriere. And my little 160 skis have been in the closet ever since.
In my opinion, southern families could save money and spare themselves a lot of hassle by doing this:
*Stay put in the peace and quiet of your own home.
*Turn your air conditioner down to zero.
*Slap yourself upside the head a few times.
*Next, take a big, heavy hammer and whack the living daylights out of your legs. Beat em up good. Get a friend to do the same to your back.
There. You've got the full snow skiing effect at no cost.
If only I could holler at those pitiful folks snow plowing their way down Fanny Hill: "Hey, y'all! Much better is a good slide on a sizable piece of cardboard over on the levee. That's skiing southern style . . . a mighty fine way to get your thrills. Trust me."
Warning to hotshots: shhh!"
Beth Jacks, editor at USADEEPSOUTH, writes a humor/personal essay column for a number of Southern newspapers. She's the author of 3 books, GRIT, GUTS, AND BASEBALL and SNIPPETS I and II.
Contact Beth: bethjacks@hotmail.com
~~~~~
Read about Beth's SNIPPETS books -- two collections of her columns.
From : Tom Givens
Some years back in my adventurous days, I got certified to scuba dive due to peer pressure from some good friends already engaged in that somewhat risky activity. Did well, enjoyed it, probably one of the most relaxing things I have ever done. You see some great scenery and learn the deep dives are no different from the shallow ones, if you can clear your ears. These same friends talked me into trying to ski.
Now as you said, there is no place to ski in Mississippi or Tennessee, unless you go to Ober Gatlinburg, which is iffy. We wound up in Aspen. I was the only one in the group who had never skied. While they were skiing the black diamonds and blue runs, I was taking instruction on the bunny run at Snowmass. Finally learned how to snow plow, actually learned how to shuss a little, and mastered the bunny run. I want to tell you, I have done some hard work in my life, but at the end of my first day of lessons, I was soaking wet and sore. Great fun. Finally got on the green runs, and never mastered them. The most I learned was how to do a "controlled fall." That means I didn't fight it, just gave in and prayed.
I might have become proficient in that sport, but didn't feel I wanted to spend the time or money, not to mention life or limb.
Back to top of article