To the editor:
Seventy-seven years ago, when the local school had 400 students, I, from 73 Diamond Street, now 1015 Houghton Avenue, with my first skis crossed Portage Lake and climbed the “Hill” for one run.
Then the first rope tow came that lifted me high in the air from the bend in the rope. I could not hang on and dropped to break my skis in half. Four pieces to carry home.
World War II then over, I bought surplus skis 7’3″ long, painted white and some huge boots – they made my day. I sanded off the white and varnished plus employed Fred Lonsdorf’s new ski wrap. I skied, indeed.
“Ripley” did it for me.
I skied America, and rode (jumped) Suicide Hill in Negaunee.
Any hill you could ski, I would ski backwards along the side and yell “Sell your skis!” Great memories.
Still skiing in the 60s.
Wrangled a job to work for “ARMCO” and equipped my feet with real boots and found short skis and was a monkey in these.
Possessed unlimited energy. This began the search to tame Mother Nature, still my dream. We had a team to find ways to use energy that tore up our marinas. We found an engineer that claimed the “air bubble” was the greatest energy source, but would never be used. We installed a system and it worked.
Over the past 50 years, I’ve failed to sell the bubble. I failed.
I don’t fail easy.
The East Coast is gone. I salute and honor the past, fix the present, expect the future will take care of itself.
Help me? Can’t help me?