I never learned to ski but I attempted it twice. My first attempt was water skiing but after a day of viewing the sky through a glaze of water and tangled skis and swallowing half the lake I came to the conclusion that water skiing was not for me.

Years later I attempted snow skiing. I put on the boots and tried to walk. I was afraid they were going to strangle my feet, but I bravely clumped outside. As soon as I hit the great outdoors I started mopping up the snow with the seat of my britches. The only difference for me, between water skiing and snow skiing was that the frozen water was white and cold. I was older now and my bones were getting brittle so I decided the intelligent thing to do would be to take those skis off before I broke something and sit in the lodge until the rest of the group was ready to leave that afternoon.

But it wasn't a cozy lodge complete with comfortable couches and warm fireplace. No, this was a big, cold room with hard benches. That was a long day. It was also my last attempt to ski.

The first time my grandson Billy tried skiing he proved that he inherited some of my talents. Bill went snow skiing one winter day with his school. He'd never been on a pair of skis in his life. The phone rang about 11:00 a.m. that morning and a voice from the far-off, snowy hills asked for permission to give Billy medical help. "It's nothing serious," the voice assured me, but I worried, fussed, fretted, worried some more and sweated until he got home that afternoon. There were no bruises on him, he wasn't limping. He didn't have much to say about it. It took a few years to get the truth out of him.

That's when he finally confessed and told us what really happened that day. Seems he had his eye on a pretty girl in his class, who was a good skier. In order to impress her he bragged that he knew how to ski. He had a friend who was very "macho" and had gone skiing and since Bill was experienced the friend started to take off for one of the highest hills (called a black hill I hear). Bill talked him into going on a middle hill (blue) but it was still steep for a beginner. That's when he started having trouble.

Every time Billy got up he skied about five feet and fell down again. The friend got tired of waiting and skied on down the mountainside. But Bill wasn't going anywhere because he couldn't stay on his feet. He fell next to a tree and while he was lying there he looked up and there were the other students from his school going by on the ski lift and there went the pretty girl. They all yelled, "Bill are you okay?"

"Yes," he hollered. "I ran into a tree."

Right after that the ski patrol came by and there he lay. They asked him what happened.

"I hit a tree," he told them.

He was taken to the medical facilities for treatment. That's when they called me to get permission to treat him. They wouldn't let him go back on the slopes again, so he got to sit it out the rest of the day. I don't think Bill ever tried to impress that girl again. He was too embarrassed.