LET IT SNOW by Mike Djordjevich (USA)

Imagine this: Italian Alps, sufficient snow to play in, plenty of food and, more importantly, wine. Wonderful friends who laugh, share secrets, tell stories, gossip, give and accept advice and, if there was anything else needed, are nice people. Get that?

If you do, then, you have a glimpse into the ski meeting organized by the always efficient and reliable Klaus Schneider. Our venue was fabulous, the hotel was new, modern and possessed every accommodation one can think of. 

As if he hadn’t done enough, Klaus watched over us like a chaperone. There was nothing we could do without him anticipating and knowing it. He picked restaurants and menus to go with them. He was omnipresent and, at the same time, invisible. Your friends thank you, Klaus. Your efforts were appreciated. 

For those of us who crossed various oceans to get to the event (Christian and family and, of course, yours truly) it couldn’t have been better. Like going to some magical winter fairyland. We were transported overnight into a situation where our main concern was the amount of snow on the ground. To ski and/or walk in. 

Oh yes; there were, as always, two groups: the skiers and the walkers. Each is unique and selfish in thinking that they are the most able, competent and advanced.

The skiers impressed with all that fancy equipment to make them faster and safer. Watching and hearing them clump around by those slow, mechanical steps reminded me of astronauts on the Moon. But, watching those dot size people, I personally know and admire, coming down the slopes, zigzagging reminded me of the finest ballets. Graceful and beautiful. 

The walkers are no less skillful. Once the consensus was reached as to where to walk (it took some time to reach it as everyone had a personal agenda and skill level) it was exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. Watching those ant size people in the distance attack the trails was to be sure that something serious was happening. Dozens of kilometers were the result of this activity. Time well spent.

Each excursion ended the same way for the skiers and walkers: at some mountain lodge with food and drink. What made it all taste better was the company we kept; old friends who have done this together for many years and knew how to enjoy it. 

Ahhhhh, the stories they tell, the experiences they share, the smiles and hugs they give; it was all worth the slopes conquered and kilometers covered. 

And then. it ended. Why does it have to be like that in life? Why do things have to end? Why do good things last for such a short time; the fleeting moments which, after a bit, seemed like a dream, a hallucination.

But, in the future, maybe even next year, there will be a different mountain, a different village and different lodges. The people, hopefully, will be the same. And it’ll feel good again,

For my part, I can’t wait.