It began with a landfill outfitted with a rope tow in the Chicago suburbs. I wanted to give our children the gift of downhill skiing. The feeling of flying down the mountain, of making sweeping arcs, leaning close to the ground.  I wanted them to feel full of life, adventure, and nature. To experience a peaceful, contentedness that comes after being active in the chilly outdoors all day. It would take a lot of patience and falls before we reached that point. I began when our oldest two were 5 and 3. We progressed from the landfill to a small mountain in southwest Wisconsin. I organized a homeschool group on Mondays when lift plus rental tickets were $19. A few years later, we moved from Chicago to Indianapolis. Our skiing evolved as our family evolved. Since, we had access to a free condo in West Virginia, we headed to Snowshoe Mountain and the progression continued. Eventually we drove west. Copper Mountain had a 4 pack of lift tickets $35 each which is unheard of in the world of alpine skiing. We battled the elements, altitude sickness, and nursed aching bodies. A small price to pay for playing in majestic mountains. At the end of a ski day, we’d replay the day’s events. We’d swap stories over hot drinks and nachos with our wet ski gear scattered everywhere and faces alive with adventure. We continue to explore new mountains.