The Luckiest Man Alive

Here I sit...on a bench at the foot of Smuggler mountain, reflecting on months gone by. So much has happened that I really haven't been able to relax and write about just one thing, place, person, or occurrence. Something in the air today somehow made me feel elated and I was finally inspired to write once again.

The bench below me is cold. I can feel the frozen, but thawing wood through my jeans. The strong, bright sun is beating on my face, countered only by the brisk wind sweeping through the valley. This feeling of being frozen one second and toasty the next is one of my favorite feelings in the world. The sun is slowly setting behind Aspen mountain in front of me and below me, covered in the mountain's shadow like a dark, cold blanket, sits downtown Aspen. The ground under my feet shimmers with trodden snow, and speckles of brown grass poke through the sea of white like tiny hairs.

This is my favorite spot in Aspen.

A man strolls across the park, we exchange smiles and he continues on. A few minutes later, a woman in a red coat and her dog appear. The dog is ecstatic to be here, just as I am. He rolls in the snow with joy and I smile as I appreciate the incredible scene in front of me even more. The lady and I exchange pleasantries, which include one of the only things locals know how to speak about recently...the lack of snow. "But nevermind," we say, "life is still amazing."

Many people don't understand the path that I have chosen. A path that has been far from easy or lucrative, but it's these moments, the ones that give me so much happiness and inner peace, that guide me, that have led, and will keep leading me in the right direction.

These mountains, this sun, a place and the ability to appreciate all that has been bestowed upon me, makes me the luckiest man alive.

Mad Dog; The Man, The Hero, The Legend

On Tuesday, April 26th, 2011, South Florida and the entire country lost a beloved football player, radio personality, and philanthropist. Jim "Mad Dog" Mandich passed away last night after battling cancer for over a year. Mad Dog was one of the best things to happen to South Florida and sports talk radio.

Jim was a generous friend to my family and I. He gave us so much in so many ways. From rounds of golf, to meeting pro athletes at the Dolphin's Touchdown Club, to giving me one of the most unforgettable experiences of my entire life, Jim was always there to give.

On January 8th, 2009, I faced a sort of difficult decision. The next day was the BCS National Championship game at Dolphin Stadium and I was at my mom's house (a short 15 minute drive away), but I didn't have a ticket. Did I want to drive back up to Gainesville to be with my fellow Gators to watch the game, or did I want to try to scalp a ticket and do whatever I could to get into the game?? I decided on the latter. I was so close that it seemed wrong to drive away from it.

Ticketless, but excited, I got to the stadium bright and early and began asking people for tickets. As my time slowly ran out, as did my morale. I gave up in mid-afternoon and began to try to distract myself by tailgating with my friends, but in the back of my head, I was watching the clock tick towards kick-off and I still didn't have a ticket. The sun began to go down and I accepted the fact that I would be watching the game from the tailgate.

My phone rang; it was my Mom. "Where are you?" she asked. "Um, at the game of course. You know this," I replied. "I know that!" my mom exclaimed, "but WHERE are you exactly?" I was pretty confused. I told her where we were tailgating and she showed up with my step-dad with some "semi-good news." "Don't get too excited," my mom warned, "but we might be able to get some tickets." I started jumping for joy immediately. Just the idea of POSSIBLY getting into this game was exhilarating. My morale shot through the roof and I started partying harder. "Meet us over at the 560WQAM booth in about 15 minutes," my step-dad said. I ran over to the booth in 10 minutes and there was Mad Dog, doing a live radio show right there in front of us. We walked up, he gave us a wink and a signal to wait a few minutes. We waited patiently as I did my best to keep my excitement inside. Jim finished up his show, put on his blazer and walked up to us with his family. It was about 20 minutes until kick-off and as we exchanged a few words and pleasantries, he handed us 3 beautiful, genuine club-level tickets with embossed graphics and all. I could barely contain myself. You would think that he just saved my entire family from a natural disaster the way I was thanking him. I've never been so ecstatic. The feeling of entering through the club-level elevator, hearing the usher tell me to enjoy the game, and finally arriving on the club-level was absolutely surreal.

The smell of hot-dogs and stale beer filled the air and the sound of gator chants filtered through the oklahoma marching band....I made it, and it's all because of Jim "Mad Dog" Mandich.

On top of just even getting into the game, the Gators chomped the Sooners 24-14, and celebration ensued. WE ARE ALL STRONG FOR OLD FLORIDA, DOWN WHERE THE OLD GATORS PLAY, IN ALL KINDS OF WEATHER, WE'LL ALL STICK TOGETHER, FOR F-L-O-R-I-D-A!!!!! GO GATORS!!!

Thanks, Jim, for one of the most unforgettable experiences in my life. You and your seemingly endless generosity, kindness, and passion will never be forgotten! You will be missed! Rest in peace.

Wintery Time Travel

It's been too long since my last post and I sincerely apologize to all of my readers. This winter season has absolutely blown by, and it's still not over! There were so many amazing times with incredible people, that it's hard to keep track of it all. Between work and play I haven't had a moment to sit down and write, and now it's already April 15th; all of the mountains are closed except for Highlands, all of the tourists are gone, and Ajax Tavern has closed down for the off season. It's hard to remember everything that happened this season, so here are a few highlights...

October 1st, 2010: It feels like just yesterday.....Ben & I were driving through stands of golden aspen trees in late September, high on mountain air and excited to finally be arriving in Aspen. We took full advantage of arriving in the off-season....frisbee games in the crisp Autumn air, longboarding through the farmer's market, exploring our new town in it's true state....it was a spectacular introduction to a great town.

November 24th, 2010: My first day back on skis since early April, and my first day ever skiing on Aspen Mountain, was a powdery one. I was by myself staring at 13 inches of fresh and I had no idea where I should, or even could, go. Made a couple of mistakes here and there (like having to blaze trail through a 150 yard traverse in 13 inches of snow; man, that sucked), but it was still a stellar way to start off the season.

December 31, 2010: New Year's Eve in Aspen was a forgettable one. Entirely too much to drink and -26 degree weather.....ouch!

January-March, 2011: Party, work, ski, repeat. X-Games, Parties, Powder days....the fun just never stopped!!!

April 14th, 2011: Highlands Bowl is STILL as powdery as ever!!!!

We're a short 8 days away from the end of Aspen's ski season and it's so hard to believe. Highland's closing day is April 24th and could be the party of the year!!! Here's to winter!!!

Describing the Indescribable

When asked, "What's it like to ski powder?" most skiers and boarders, like one of Pavlov's dogs, immediately smile ear-to-ear. They usually respond with something like "It's the best feeling in the world....," but then they think a little deeper and say, "Honestly, you really can't describe it." Knowing what powder skiing is like is a true privilege. Talking about POW is like talking about what you would do with a million dollars: it's fun, and the conversation never gets old. It can be a huge connecting point for people because they don't generally use words to describe how awesome it is, they just know. It's an unspoken word, a rare feeling, an intense emotion, and there aren't enough people in this world that know it. So, for those of you that don't know POW, it feels a little something like this.....

Imagine yourself living deep in the Colorado Rockies, where the air is crisp and rarefied. It's mid-December and snow has already covered the entire valley and surrounding mountains. You've just come home from work, and the night begins to close in. The sunny sky glows and diminishes over the mountain like a flickering flame; burning oranges, reds, and purples. The night sky sweeps over the valley like a blanket, and soon clouds start to form just beyond the highest peak in the distance. While nature begins to work, you seamlessly drift into a deep sleep.

Before you know it, a muffled explosion wakes you up as the morning sunlight creeps through the cracks in your curtains. After the explosion, nothing. You can't hear anything, but your mind is telling you that something is going on. You slowly crawl out of bed and peak out of that crack in your curtains.  The light hurts at first, but your squinted eyes slowly open and your vision recovers. Your eyes widen, and a huge grin quickly grows from ear to ear. The billions of unique snowflakes outside your window are falling plentifully and gracefully onto the roofs, trees, and cars outside, gently adding to the 20 inches of snow that already fell the night before. The snow seems to absorb every sound in the air like a vacuum and create a serene, silent atmosphere of white.

All of a sudden, the day has become a race. After the quick rush of exciting realization, your mind begins to churn...."where's my helmet??....where's my long underwear??...oh shit, they're dirty....eh screw it, i'll wear'em anyway." It's a day of simple pleasures, and hard work for the ultimate reward. Nothing matters but the snow. "Gotta go, gotta go," you keep reminding yourself to move faster. After what seems to be the longest 15 minute-preparation of your life, you finally step outside. You stop for just a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath. The fresh, cold, thin air refreshingly rushes through your lungs like an ice-cold glass of water on a summer's day. You smile as the snow falls onto your face. It's going to be good day.

After a short, brisk, exciting walk to the lift, you realize that you're the 2nd person there. Then, you wait. Waiting in the gondola line on a powder day is like standing in a pack of hungry wolves. Everyone exchanges small-talk and giggles to pass the time at first. but then as the last half-hour approaches, the people get antsy. Whiffs of aromatic herbs randomly pass by your nose, and the people start to shout joyously, yet aggressively as an attempt to coax the lifties to open up. They know ski patrol needs to give the go-ahead, and that the lifties ultimately have no control, but the crowd needs some way to release their energy. Chants begin to start, and snowballs start to fly.  As 9:00am approaches and quickly passes, the energy level in the crowd escalates. The snow is still falling, and bombs still go off in the distance as the ski patrol attempts to manually trigger avalanches. Just as the crowd's about to explode, the line finally begins to move. A big cheer emanates from the crowd, then silence; a focused, driven silence. As you slowly ascend the mountain, you scan the surrounding terrain with awe. There's so much snow.

You quickly get off of the lift, and start charging towards the trees. Even the runs that should be groomed are not. The snow is up to your knees and it's getting deeper. Rhythmically, you pump through the powder to get to steeper terrain. You can barely move through the deep snow at "usual" speeds.

You finally get to the top of your first run. There's nobody around and no tracks made in front of you. Just trees, and beautiful smooth snow. This is what today is all about. You quickly point your skis straight down the steep, tree-covered slope and all-of-a-sudden, you're flying down the side of a mountain in chest-deep snow. You're in-control and focused, yet totally relaxed and free of thought. With every turn, the lighter-than-air snow flies into your face and you're treated with a fleeting moment of weightlessness. Each turn is better than the last and you begin to laugh uncontrollably. It sounds like a drug, and it is. Your life will never be the same. Even with the blinding white moments, and mouthfuls of snow while you tear down the slope, you're still as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.

The day goes on beautifully and before 2pm, your legs can barely hold you up anymore. With a smile on your face, you make your way back home, start a fire, grab a tall beer, and bask in the day that was....only to seamlessly drift into a deep-sleep again, wondering when your next powder day will be.


Skiing is like a roller coaster, but YOU are the roller coaster. Your roller coaster can do whatever you want it to. It can go upside-down, sideways, fast, or slow. It can go through beautiful scenic trees or take you down a frightening, jagged couloir.  Where it goes, what it does, and how it feels...it's all up to you.

So maybe that's why you can't describe the indescribable....because each person's experience is as unique as they are.

Unlikely Heroes

Everyone has a fascinating story. Their trials, successes, choices; everyone goes through life on a different path, under different circumstances, and with different attitudes. Three very different people inspired me tonight and made my mind start churning at an hour which it shouldn't have been. I felt the urge to share their stories and messages...

Klaus Obermeyer. This legend of a man just recently turned 91 and, until tonight, I didn't know much about him other than the fact that he started the "Obermeyer" ski-clothing company (http://www.obermeyer.com/) . As I was flipping around on the TV, I came across a local station that was airing an interview with Klaus. The interview was really terrible. The guy interviewing Klaus seemed rude and unaware of the tone and ignorance he was obviously showing to Klaus, but I kept watching. Because although the interviewer was infuriating me, Klaus didn't seem to notice or care. At 91 years old, he was no "new kid on the block." He knew exactly what was going on, and it didn't phase him one bit.

Klaus is an honest, pure man that grew up climbing mountains and "hand-fishing" in rivers throughout what was then called Bavaria. Klaus taught himself to ski down mountains with his friends by first learning how to climb them. "We didn't have lifts! When we didn't want to climb, we built jumps!...There's something amazing about that zero-g feeling!" While Klaus told stories, his infectious smile and laugh would almost interrupt him like he had no control over his happiness. He seems to be truly "over-flowing" with glee. At 91, he's still skiing, still laughing, still smiling, and still yodeling. We can all learn a lesson or two from such a "rich" man.

Next up, thanks to my sister, is one of my favorite musicians of all time, Stevie Wonder. Stevie's hits like "I Just Called to Say I Love You," and "Superstition," are loved by all, but for me, his influence goes beyond just a top-selling album. His views on world peace, famine, and love are what really makes him so influential to me. When Larry King asked him, "Will you ever run out of things to sing or write about?" Stevie replied, "As long as there is war...or spirits without love, I will always have something to write about."

The last of the 3 inspirational figures from this evening is more out of place than you could ever guess. Gene Simmons, the legendary rock-star from the band, "KISS." Yes, he's ridiculous. Yes, he's boned more groupies than you can imagine. Yes, he has another "reality" show to add to the mix, but did you know that he was born in Haifa, Israel? Did you know that his mother is a holocaust survivor?

I really gained a lot of respect for Gene after learning these things. About how his father left him and his mother in Israel, and his mother's story in enduring the holocaust at 14 years old. Her story was amazing and in thinking about all of the holocaust survivors that I've had the privilege to hear from, a strong thought and emotion took over in my head:

The fact that the generation that endured the holocaust will soon be gone from this earth is a scary thought. The fact that it will be up to us to carry on their stories is frightening to say the least. How many stories have we lost already? How many stories were never even told? How many grandchildren never had the chance to sit down with their grandparents to ask them, "What was life like when...?"

Do yourself and our future generations a favor:

Take a moment out of your busy life, listen to someone's story, and find your Unlikely Heroes.

Winter's Identity Crisis

 Her touch is too gentle to be mistaken;

It's swift, it's silent, it's too strong to be shaken.

Some even say she makes everything bland,

But it shows the beauty in how nature withstands.

Next time it snows, give a different perspective a whirl

For I believe old man winter, is actually a girl.

Man’s Best Friend

My Dad and I have always said that everything happens for a reason, and the more life goes on, the more I believe it.

I faced a fairly difficult decision one week back in April. On one hand, I had a huge birthday party in the keys with some of my best friends and on the other, was a weekend at home with my Dad. I’d been in Utah for the past year and I hadn’t seen my friends or family since my move. My friends tried so hard to convince me to come down to the keys, but something told me that I needed to be with my Dad that weekend. For me, family absolutely always comes first, and once I realized that,the decision became a bit easier.

I arrived Friday night and was welcomed home by my Dad’s open arms and Winston’s wagging tail. My Dad’s dog Winston is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel; and yes, his personality is as regal as his breed’s name. As a breed, Cavalier King Charles Spaniels regularly face heart complications and in Winston’s case, his heart complication was extremely appropriate: an enlarged heart. Winston was calm, loving, and compassionate in every way, even if he was the most spoiled dog I’ve ever known. His heart was growing so rapidly that it began to crush his trachea, making his breathing remarkably difficult. Unfortunately, there’s no surgery that can be done to reverse the growth, so since we received his diagnosis almost a year prior, we began to treat every day as if it was his last. Little did we know, his actual last day would be one of the most difficult days we would ever endure.

As the weekend continued, his symptoms worsened. He couldn’t breathe unless he was sitting up, which prevented him from sleeping at all. The second he would lay down, he would begin to choke. The sound of his struggling breath was heart breaking. Over the next day of battling to stay awake, to stay alive, the life slowly drained from his exhausted face. As a family, we decided that we couldn’t put him through this anymore and chose to have him euthanized. It was time to let go. When we asked Winston if he was ready, he simply got up, grabbed his favorite toy (a stuffed Pooh bear) and looked at us, as if he were ready to go on a trip. We knew then, that we were making the right decision. Sometimes the right decision is the hardest one to make.

Winston passed peacefully and we mourned for a long time. He was my brother, my friend, and my dog.

Before Winston passed, my cousin’s dog, Dudley passed as well. I called him shortly after hearing to send my condolences, but I had no idea what he was going through. I do now. Dudley was a special dog, too. Athletic, goofy, and extremely fun, Dudley was the epitome of my cousin’s personality in a dog. They were truly a perfect match for each other.

If losing Winston this year wasn’t enough, my Mom & Step-dad's dog, Jack passed away this past week as well. Jack was a strange dog. Loving one second and devilish the next, you truly didn’t know Jack until you actually met Jack. Jack was a godsend in a sense. A short few weeks after my grandmother passed away in 2003, Jack just popped into our lives, bringing much needed laughter and distraction. I was spending the summer at home working my favorite local landscaping job and, one afternoon when I came home, Jack was just sitting patiently at my front door. I gave him water, food, and kept him in the patio until my Mom came home. Andrea & I begged her to keep him, and we won. We posted “FOUND” signs around the neighborhood, but we never heard anything, so Jack was ours. We learned very quickly that Jack had a very disturbed personality. His anger would switch like a light and he actually nipped my nose within the first month or two of having him. I was so angry with him that I could barely contain myself. But we reconciled and became great friends. Jack had big Chihuahua ears and the body of a rat terrier. He had seemingly endless energy and the legs of a cat. He would pull me on my skateboard for over 2 miles straight!!! I dare you to find another dog that size that can do that!! Jack, like all of us, was special in his own way and had his own demons to battle. We had jack for almost 7 years; he made us laugh, he made us cry, he helped mold my family into who we are today. For better or worse, the lessons he taught us will forever be instilled in us.

Death is inexplicable, but makes so much sense. It’s the one thing that everybody and everything in this world shares. Out with the old, in with the new. With death, comes life and with these deaths came 2 beautiful new lives. Dudley and Bentley are my Dad’s new Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. I can’t wait to meet them.

Some of you might think, “Why put yourself through the inevitable pain of losing a dog?” Parents know the beauty of having children, and it’s similar to having a dog, but the feeling and responsibility of bringing a dog up is difficult to explain. I implore you to give it a chance. It will teach you so many lessons about dogs, and about yourself.

All you really need to know is that dogs are truly “man’s best friend.”