Loving the memories, admiring the visionaries

My brother Lester was a box boy in the 1960s at Roger’s Grocery store (where Winter Ridge Natural Foods is now). He came home one evening and told us there was going to be a “ski hill” in the mountains close to Sandpoint. We weren’t sure what that meant.

We lived on our farm at the end of the county road. Winter in the early 1960s meant tire chains on the rear-wheel drive Belair and the International H tractor. Winter meant splitting kindling and filling the woodboxes. Winter meant hand-milking our Guernsey cows in the faint light of the barn lanterns because the electricity had been knocked out by snow-heavy branches. Winter meant work and family closeness and cold linoleum floors in the morning.

And now, years later, winter means chairlift rides and majestic views. Winter means powder mornings and twilight runs.

I love the memories.

I admire the visionaries.

STEVE JOHNSON

Sagle