lies might not under- stand: we literally plan major life events around ski season. Planning a wedding? It’s not happening between Thanksgiv- ing and Easter. Need major surgery? Sched- ule it for May through October. Our son Rad was born as planned in April 2021—though April was still chal- lenging at the tail end of a good ski season. Now, at four years old, Rad and Kara’s son
making, grooming, communication, and overall mountain operations that most skiers never see. And let’s be honest, all winter you know exactly what your plans are— ”What are you doing this weekend?” “Going to the mountain!” There’s always live music, fun events and competitions, chances to dust off the 1970s ski suit— and you get to be part of this special com- munity full of mountain characters. AN INDISPENSABLE ROLE To my fellow winter widows: You make the mountain magic possible and ensure ski families can exist. Whether you’re raising toddlers, pursuing your own career ambitions, or both, you deserve recognition for the juggling act you per- form every winter when skiing becomes a professional calling that consumes entire seasons. To everyone else: The next time you enjoy a perfect day at your chosen ski area, remember there’s a group of winter widows somewhere supporting the peo- ple who made your day possible. And to our ski industry spouses: We love you, we’re proud of you, and yes, we’ll always deliver snacks to the moun- tain. Just don’t expect us to pause that new TV series we started three weeks ago—you’ve been “almost home” since Thanksgiving, and some of us have already watched the finale twice. When the lifts finally stop spinning in the spring, when the last of the snow melts and normal schedules return, we’ll be the first ones to hand you a beer and say, “Welcome home.” Because that’s what winter widows do—we hold it all together so that others can experience the magic of winter. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to go check the weather forecast. Again. Shannon is a veteran winter widow, a free- lance writer, and a reformed competitive snowboarder whose ski industry blood runs so deep she was practically born in a lift shack. Kara is a native Vermonter, seasoned cheese-industry marketer, freelance writer, and reluctant lifelong skier who can still hear her dad yelling “Bend your knees!” every time she steps off a lift. They can be reached via mountain radio, weather permitting.
Rad and Dad enjoy a hug during a mid-winter on-mountain rendezvous.
Rip tear up the trails and session the park together! The two of them are besties on and off the mountain—winter widow kids form their own special bonds. 6.5. Find Your People Winter widowhood is better with friends who get it. Other ski industry spouses become your emergency contacts, your kid-swap partners, and the only people who won’t judge you for coordinating playdates based on which moun- tain is getting dumped on this weekend. 7. Embrace Virtual Communication A quick FaceTime from home while your partner is in the middle of a long shift keeps the family connected. Text photos of the kids in mid-snowball fight or with hot-chocolate mustaches. Even if you don’t get a response, you know it brought a smile to their face. 8. Master the Mountain Ecosystem The daycare staff become your co-par- ents, lift operators become your babysit- ters during quick runs, and the lodge staff become your extended family. As Kara learned, if you want face time (rath- er than FaceTime) with your partner, get a table at the base lodge and order fries. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are the only (semi-) guaranteed rendezvous points. 9. Brace for Spring Rehabilitation Come April, there’s an adjustment peri- od. Suddenly, your spouse is home for dinner, available for weekend plans, and actually answers their phone. It’s like
getting a new roommate who happens to be the person you married. You both have to remember how to share deci- sion-making, coordinate schedules, and split household duties. But by October, when they start get- ting that familiar gleam in their eye and begin obsessively checking long-range weather forecasts, you know it’s time to dust off your winter widow survival skills once again. THE UNSUNG HEROES While our spouses are the visible heroes keeping the mountains running, we winter widows are the invisible support system that keeps life from going off the rails while they’re living on moun- tain time. We’re the ones ensuring they eat something other than convenience store hot dogs and that someone remem- bers to pay the bills. We know that a 4 a.m. text saying, “beautiful corduroy on Exhibition today” also means “thinking of you,” that a two-hour conversation about snow science can be romantic, that sometimes the best Valentine’s Day gift is eight uninterrupted hours of sleep, and that off-season is really “our season.” Don’t get me wrong, this life isn’t all sacrifice and single-handedness. There’s something magical about being married to someone whose work directly creates joy for thousands of people. You get to witness the pure exhaustion and sat- isfaction on their face after a big storm when everything went perfectly. You understand the intricate ballet of snow-
Made with FlippingBook Digital Proposal Creator