One of the young men I work with has gone on a skiing trip with a group of people from his singles class at church. Now, if I were his age again (26 or so), that sounds like something I would just love to do. I don't know if anyone who lived in Aberdeen in that era ever went snow skiing or even knew what it was. I was pretty much of a tomboy when I was young, probably brought about by the necessity of making up our own games, which were played mostly outside and with borrowed or homemade equipment. We would get our parents to save the big empty juice cans, and we would use an ice pick or a nail to punch a hole on each side near the top, thread the heaviest string or twine that we could find through the holes, and walk on the cans, using the string to pull the can up with each step we took. We loved the noise the metal cans made on the sidewalk. Why we didn't have more sprained or broken ankles I really don't know.

Dr. Dabbs lived down the street from us, and he actually had a full-size tennis court in his backyard. His daughter and son were older than Alice and I, and they played tennis on the school team. Alice and I would often put on a brave face, go down and knock on the Dabbs' back door, and ask Mrs. Dabbs if we could borrow some racquets and balls and play on the court. She never told us, "No," and we would hit balls back and forth for a long time. Maybe that's where I got my love of watching tennis on television. I never thought about working with a coach or playing seriously; I guess I didn't know those things existed like music teachers did.

I guess today I would sit in the ski lodge, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, wishing I were young enough once again to try my hand, or my feet, as is the case, at skiing. I think I might have been good at it, because I never shied away from taking a chance, whether it was climbing a tree (and falling out) or swinging on a vine in the jungle.

I hope Brandon has a great time!