In my heart, the ironies with this image go deep. My uncle (actually father’s first cousin but we called him uncle) took this picture of me holding my at the time, newly published book around 2017 along with the oil painting I created for the cover. (The book was published in 2016.)
I’ve known Uncle Chuck since I was about 5 when our families lived in Littleton, CO. We often camped, skied and went on other family adventures together. His three kids were the best friends of my brother, sister and I at the time.
My memory of Uncle Chuck was he was personable with people of all ages, laughed often, and had a good sense of humor. Towering over six feet tall, (compared to myself at the time, age 5 approaching three feet tall) he was also one of the best skiers I have ever met. He would often do something called “tree bashing” which meant flying off into the ungroomed forest around the groomed slopes to ski the harder to ski areas. It was very difficult and very dangerous to do that so most people didn’t, but he tended to have a larger than life presence in the world. Ordinary rules of ski resorts, and laws of physics didn’t seem to apply to him.
One time my mother, and a bunch of the kids, including 5 year old me, who were following him down a ski slope followed him into the forest off the groomed path. My mother assumed he knew we were behind him following him. As it turned out, he did not know that. We realized that as the unpacked snow on the forest floor caused us to stop in our tracks. He could tree bash because with great skill he flew over the ungroomed snow at fast velocity. His quick reflexes allowed him to navigate all the branches, rocks, trees, and other debris. Very quickly, he was no where to be seen, and only his two ski tracks proved that he had passed that way at all.
My mother figured there must be another groomed slope nearby that he had headed toward, and we just needed to get there by following his tracks. We’d gone too far into the forest down hill to attempt to get back up to the slope we were on. We took off our skis which were of no more use to us, and started hiking in deep snow in our snow boots following the tracks.
Then his tracks curved to the left, navigating a steep hill. It wasn’t so much a hill as a cliff, yet there were my uncle’s tracks horizontally gliding right over the center of it to the other side. It was so steep we could not go that way. Even the sure-footed mountain goats known for traversing vertical walls would have been impressed.
When I say he was a skilled skier, I mean he was a SKILLED skier.
We had to abandon my uncle’s tracks in deep snow, in snow boots carrying our skis downward not knowing where we were going, or if it would lead to any part of the ski resort or take us into the wilderness.
There was an occasional mention of the time because as we trudged along, it was getting late in the afternoon. My mother was worried if the ski slopes closed before we found our way out, we wouldn’t be able to get back to the base of the main lift in time. We were on the other side of the mountain. There were no buildings or services on that side of the mountain, only ski lifts to take you to the top where you could ski down the other side. All sorts of horror stories like sleeping in the woods seemed possible should the lifts close. I give credit to my mother for not panicking, and we did finally find a way out with little time to spare and were able to take a lift back up to get where we needed to be.
I was deeply impressed with Uncle’s skiing ability, and learned a lot in the ordeal, and of course he was sorry for the misunderstanding when he found out what had happened. It was an event he experienced quite often and had thought nothing of it, figuring we all would go down the groomed slope. Of course, this event was one of the few exceptions in many tremendous memories hearing his booming laughter and quick wit around camp fires, in campers and RVs, or on the slopes.
On a different ski trip, (there were many,) I remember he and I sat on the same lift as our group loaded on in pairs. As we approached the top on a lift I had not been on yet, the take off was a little steeper and longer than I expected and I panicked. My first instinct was to turn and grab Uncle Chuck’s leg. Since he was so tall and I was so short, what I actually grabbed was his knee and I held on for dear life. A “knee jerk” reaction you might say. By some miracle, I didn’t trip him and neither of us fell as we glided down to wait for everyone else on the lift. Since I was the youngest in either family he was probably used to things like this.
Like my father, he worked on aerospace equipment as an electrical engineer. He ran for congress in California getting a third of the vote in 2010. (Henry Waxman the Democrat won with two thirds.) In his life he skied hard and rode bikes, sometimes over mountains in races. Although I did not see him much as an adult as we all were living our own separate lives, he continued to seem larger than life to me in many ways.
At the same time I was publishing my novel, he was publishing a novel of his own called Disappearing Inc which according to my father who read it reflected his conservative politics. I have his book but haven’t read it yet. My uncle passed away in 2020 (not of COVID.) He left three phenomenal adult children who are my cousins and friends.
I have been remembering him fondly lately. I thought I’d give a shout out to honor his life…
Farewell for now Uncle Chuck. Godspeed on your continuing Journeys…
