"Finding what supports you from within will link you to transcendence, reframe the perspectives received from your history, and provide the agenda of growth, purpose, and meaning that we all are meant to carry into the world and to share with others."
— James Hollis, PH.D. "Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life"
The word "closure" is frequently overused, but I experienced it and a lot more when I stayed at The Mountaineer Inn and skied at Mount Snow in Vermont last month.
It was my 44th Elderhostel program — more than half of them downhill ski trips — and the first one at Mount Snow since I crashed there in January 2009.
After recovering from that accident and a hip replacement in the same year, I skied at Sunday River in Maine in 2011 with Shireen from England, and ski instructor friends Mary Ellen and Peter Gartner, and the joy I felt encouraged me to try two ski weeks this year — Mount Snow in January and Sunday River in February.
As I unpacked my car on Jan. 22, I saw Ed, a ski and billiard-buddy, and immediately felt at home. He and I have enjoyed playing pool at the Mountaineer for years, and our games usually turn into pool "tournaments" open to all. A few nights later, as Linda, a new elder buddy and I beat a few male teams, Ed joked "We were going to call it The Eileen Ford Memorial Pool Tournament — but you came back!"
I was a bit apprehensive about returning to Mount Snow, but also curious to see and understand where and how the accident happened. Doc, my ski instructor in 2009, told me I hit a "wall of snow about 5-feet high" but for three years, I've wondered what a large "wall of snow" was doing on an open slope or had I somehow skied onto a closed trail?
This time, I was in a class with Dave, who showed me exactly where it happened — off to the left of the Discovery Center chair lift, there was a roped off area around a small shed and a ski making machine. Dave said that on the day of my accident, there was no shed and it was not a roped off area at all, just a section on the left side of the slope with a steep hole in the snow, immediately followed by a steep rise. Later that day, the area was roped off.
Some of the people I skied with last month praised my "courage," but that wasn't what enabled me to return to skiing; it was because I knew I'd miss all the men and women I've skied with for the past 18 years as much as the activity itself. I call Elderhostel programs my "second childhood," thrilled to find so many "playmates" at my age. Even my sisters Valerie and Dale ultimately realized how life-giving the sport is to me and supported my decision to ski again.
I knew I was completely "back" after a few runs down the mountain with my class on Monday morning, in spite of fog and freezing drizzle that frosted our goggles. On Tuesday, I felt like I was flying down the mountain, skiing completely under control, and on Wednesday, we skied the lower part of the mountain, enjoying good visibility and snow conditions.
On Thursday, I felt a bit tired and quit before the always dangerous last run of the day, opting instead for a nap after lunch, resting up for the final pool tournament later that day; the women's billiard team was the undisputed champion, losing only one game to the men the whole week.
No one skied on Friday. After freezing rain Thursday night, we slogged through the slush in the parking lot, scraped the ice off our cars and drove home, after promising we'd be back next year.
Many people shared my joy in Vermont, including new "elders" I look forward to seeing again, but Austin Holt, who visited me at the Albany Trauma Center on his way home from Mount Snow in 2009, is battling leukemia in South Carolina. He was missed, and everyone looks forward to seeing him next winter.
We elders are a hearty bunch.
Eileen Ford is a Rockport resident and a regular Times columnist.
