During the past week’s snow storm, I recalled a winter story that my Dad related to me. The town where he grew up was in the north, west corner of Wayne county. In the 1920’s it boasted a ski jump hill. The area was known as the Little Alps of Wayyne county.
Though my Dad was too young to try the ski jump, He and his sister did own skis made of wood.
One day, after a heavy amount of snow fell in the Northville area, Bruce and his sister Marien, persuaded his Mother to drive down the Edward Hines Park Drive while pulling them behind the car.
Bruce found the tow ropes that were used in the summer to water ski and he attached them to the bumper of the old model T. Grandma started slowly down the road. There was no traffic because this was an access road for the park. Soon the car and skiers were traveling 15 miles per hour.
Marien started to ski from left to right , but Bruce pointed his skis straight ahead .
Along the roadside, he spied a mound of snow about three feet high. Bruce decided to race up the mound and jump from the top.
To his surprize, the snow mound was a pile of snow fence covered with snow.
Instead of jumping, Bruce crashed into the fencing. He let go of the rope as his ski struck the fencing.
His Mother, unaware of the crash, continued to drive for another quarter of a mile, until she noticed Marien gesturing and noting no Bruce.
Marien got in the car and they turned around to find Bruce.
By that time ,he was extracting himself form the pile. He had a few bumps and bruises and one of his skis was cracked in two.
The rest of the winter, Bruce shoveled and performed other chores to earn money for a replacement pair of skis.
Neither of his parents would believe that his sister dared him to jump the snow pile.
Finally, exasapered with the accusations, his parents remarked,”You should have known better and ignored her.”
That was something that the young Bruce couldn’t do. Marien was always able to push his buttons and get under his skin.
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Ski Hill
Some are born to soar.
Others are doomed to fail.
Which will you be?
Only time will tell.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 1/13,11
traveling up and down the blind highway 