When I was a young fella living on the farm, I never knew we were ahead of our time.  We lived with kerosene lamps and a water bucket. When the well was full, the hand pump in the sink worked most fine. The big old Atlantic cook stove created the most perfect sour dough biscuits. We even made flap jacks on the top of that stove. That old crank up Victrola that played those really think records gave us music to listen to. We had board games to play and animals to take care of.  I never knew we were actually living “Off the Grid”.  For the greater times, we were happy. Until I found something to get me into trouble again.  But the farm was big enough, I could do quite a number of things out of sight of my little sister.  I was allowed much more freedom there as long as the chores were done. the farm was mostly fields.  It was easy to keep entertained and still within sight of the one responsible for my well-being.
It was on one of those winter vacation weeks I got quite bored with those board games. The sun was out nice and bright. All things were covered with a nice thick crust. I decided to go out and slide down the hills in some cardboard boxes. My next older brother and I had a great time but again, we got bored. Well, I got bored, and we decided to build a sled. Somewhere in the big old broken-down barn was a huge wooden barrel. That would make a most fine double runner sled.  There were plenty of old boards we could tear off the wall for the seat and legs. Nails could be found in the boards we tore off the walls. So, we built a most fine double runner sled. Away we went to one of those small hills. Unfortunately, we never considered how heavy our sled was. About the second time we pulled it back to the top of the hill was enough fun for us. So, big brother went back inside, and I was left to enjoy the sun and crust by myself.
I remembered seeing a set of those old wooden skis in the barn. I thought I would try skiing down one of those hills. These were they type of skis you just slipped your boots into a leather strap. Then away you would go. I had quite a few choices of hills to ski on.  I thought I would practice in one of the fields first. That was great just effortlessly gliding on the nice thick crust. The idea was then to try one of those hills. I thought for a moment to try the big hill. There was a small problem with that one though. There was a railroad track at the bottom. If I could not stop when I got to the tracks, that could hurt. Especially if a train was coming by. So, I tried the medium hill that would take me toward the house. This was so much fun; I could do this all day. I took those special skis off and walked to the top and just stood there for a moment. I calculated, if I did this just right, I could be quite close to the house for lunch. I slipped my boots into those leather straps and down the hill I went. I stood straight and tall just enjoying the ride. I didn’t have any ski poles. Basically, because I never knew I needed them. I discovered by pumping a little I could go faster. I was just a flying. Until, that is, the skis reached the bottom of the hill. They decided to go under that nice thick crust. Head over tea kettle I went. You may think that snow would be soft. But I have to tell you that to a nine-year-old boy, that crust was not soft. When you are sliding your face across that crusty field, there are a lot of words that spill from your mouth. I decided right then and there I was not one to go skiing.
In my whole 77 years on this planet, I believe I have gone skiing a total of three times. Each time I arrive at the same decision. It is best that I am sitting in a machine, or I am on snowshoes. At least that way, I can blame the machine if I should take a tumble.  Ken White mountainman  COB

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