Risks and rewards

My husband, Leonard, asked me if I would like to go to the Nordic Heritage Center to see the Himie Towle Memorial Cross Country Ski Frolic. I had to think about that for a while.
I remember Himie (Hiram E. Towle II). He was a very good skier on our Fort Fairfield High School winter sports team in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Later, he married Ruth Adams, and he was a very good family man. I wanted to see Ruth after these many years, and I wanted to see the Nordic Heritage Center.
     I had reservations. Leonard said that the walkway up to the Nordic Heritage Center Lodge had many steps at the bottom. It was long, and steep. Could I deal with the pain of osteoporosis and arthritis in a long-ago broken hip? He said a wheelchair ramp zig-zagged beside the steps. Did I dare to risk such a wheel chair ride? Also, I wondered if people still skied for fun. If there were no people there, it would be a wasted effort.
We decided to drive to the Nordic Heritage Center to see if people were there. The parking lot near the Presque Isle-Fort Fairfield town line was full of cars. People, young and old and dressed in colorful ski clothes, were carrying skis and poles up the walkway. Best of all, there were little children there—a lot of them.
Decision time. The walkway looked long and steep. But the red and white lodge at the top looked huge, beautiful and inviting. The wheelchair ramp was free of ice and snow. But it looked scary. We decided to try with a wheelchair.
Nervous. Nervous. The wheelchair ramp was a steep slope, in fact, six of them. There were sharp bends between each of the slopes. If Leonard lost control of my wheelchair — well.
After the wheelchair ramp, things got worse. I don’t like high places. The walkway up to the Heritage Center lodge sloped ever upward—elevated over ski trails. If Leonard slipped— the parking lot was a long ways back — down hill all the way. Nervous. Nervous.
We made it. The Nordic Heritage Center lodge was beautiful. It had big rooms, big windows, and a big beautiful fireplace. There were children playing inside and outside. Ruth was there with her children and grandchildren. She was helping to pass on skiing, her Towle family tradition. Meeting an old friend in such a beautiful place was worth the walkway risk.
There were more rewards. From a huge window I saw the ski races. The first race was best. Children, six and under, skied 200 meters (220 yards). They didn’t fall over their skis and poles. They did very well. They reminded me of a flock of little chicks chasing after a mother hen. There were longer races for older children. I didn’t know so many children in this day and age could ski like we did years ago.
There was a 7 kilometer (5 miles) race for skiers aged 14 and older. The seventy-nine competitors included parents and their children. Some skied for competition, and they drove themselves to exhaustion. Some skied for fun, and they had fun.
It was a pleasing and amazing experience. I didn’t know I had so many skinny, skinny (by my standard) neighbors in such great physical condition. I didn’t know the old-time community winter carnival atmosphere still existed. I didn’t think children would eat (and like) soup, a roll, and a cookie. No burgers. No fries. They ate it all.
However, the trip in my wheelchair back down that long, long, high, high walkway ramp, then around turn after turn of that wheel chair ramp was — nervous. Nervous. Nervous.
Will I risk that ramp to see the Himie Towle Memorial Cross Country Ski Frolic again next year? I certainly will. Ruth Towle and her family are passing a splendid tradition on to northern Maine youngsters. Thank you all.