Law Office Of William F. Underwood - December 2017


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Since I was 3 years old, the Christmas season signaled the time for the whole family to go to Colorado for our annual ski trip. Either the week before or after the holiday, we’d all make the trip to Steamboat Springs, Breckenridge, or Snowmass Village to meander around the mountains together, enjoying the change of weather, the scenery, and of course, the slopes. I remember the first time we went there, when I was just a little tyke. My family put me in a ski school day care. When you’re that small, you don’t even get on the lifts, just ride a mat maybe 25 yards, and then ski down the bunny hill with your skis in the “pizza slice” position to slow down, or the “fries” position to go faster. Around age 5, I started skiing the easy runs with my family, but I was always terrified of the motorized snowcats that would cruise around the mountain. I’m not sure why — probably a taunt from my sister, let’s be honest — but I was convinced that they were trying to run me over. Once, while we were having hot chocolate in the lodge, my parents got one of the snowcat drivers to attempt to assuage my fears, but I wouldn’t buy it. Those snowcat drivers wanted to run me over for sure. Us kids always wanted a pair of poles like the older kids had, which my dad resisted as long as he could, knowing that the instant they were in our hands, we’d be battling it out as if they were swords. As we got older, he was proven right. It wasn’t too long before my sister and I had far surpassed the skills of our parents. At first, we’d stick with them on the green, and occasional blue, runs they preferred, but eventually, we were on the black diamonds when we felt bold. When big ski resorts began to allow snowboarding more often, I switched from skiing and never looked back. Pretty soon, I was flying down the double black diamonds in that sweet, unspoiled powder, thinking that their “dangerous” designation was just a strategy to keep the tourists off the good runs. Though my sister was probably the better skier, after I switched to snowboarding, it became one of my biggest passions, and I pushed my abilities further than the rest of my family. Eventually, I moved out to Summit County, Colorado, and started to ride every THE BEST SNOWBOARDER IN SOUTH GEORGIA

Reflecting On My Family’s Old Holiday Skiing Trips

day, turning into a true snow bum. I remember being aggravated when my dad would say, “Oh, look at Ashley — she can ski backwards!” when, meanwhile, I was doing 360-degree jumps while riding goofy foot. I used to joke that I was probably the best snowboarder in southern Georgia. It’s not exactly a common breed out here. It’s been a long time since we skied as a family, but I still make it out to the mountain every few years. It’s like riding a bike; it just takes a few runs to get the muscle memory

back and start speeding down the mountain, icy wind in my face, while I try not to get too distracted by the beautiful scenery. These days, I’m not in the shape I used to be. I’m not going to be going nonstop from dawn to dusk. Now it’s maybe three runs, and I’m ready for a break in the lodge. -William F. “Trey” Underwood, III

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