The Green Mountain Flyer, a creeper train that putts from St. Johnsbury Vermont into Newport, and back, once a week, was off in the distance about a mile or so. I couldn’t see it yet, but it fired its whistle a few times and, although not really close, it was certainly headed our way. A few minutes more, and it’d be on its way past. We sat on the edge of the field, Brooke and me and the girls, alongside our dog Shaka. She sat on a blanket in the sun with heavy, sparkless eyes. She had been diagnosed with a long-sounding disease that wasn’t going anywhere and the pain meds to make her moderately more comfortable were darkening the bit of light she had left. So she sat there in the sun while we touched her and did what we could to say things we thought might make her feel better. You’re a good girl Shaka. You’re a good girl. The relationship I had with my first dog didn’t come easy. At times I was too permissive and other times I was overly aggressive with reprimanding her. Louder than I should have been when she did wrong, and much too quiet when she did right. And she mostly did right. Still, sitting in the sun with my two daughters, my wife and my dog, I felt sad. My 2-year-old wasn’t conscious, really, of what was happening but my 8 year old was. She alternated crying with soft strokes to Shaka’s back. Good girl Shaka. ‘Saying her name makes me feel better Dad’, Dehlia said. Dehlia and her sister were headed up to spend time with relatives while my wife and I got down to the business of putting things in motion with the Vet. My father-in-law Brendan showed up just about the time we could actually see the Flyer off in the distance. Still moving slow, still headed our way. I asked Dehlia to say goodbye to Shaka and give her a hug and she did. She walked away holding her sister and Mother’s hand then disappeared behind the barn. Shaka turned her head and tried to stand and follow them but she was too weak and sat back down in a groan. Good girl Shaka. Good girl. My wife came back after seeing the girls off. ‘I’m not sure I can do this Steven.’ She said, knowing she could. Our Vet, an empathetic woman,as vets seem to be, assured us that it was the right thing to do and that, “Deciding what’s best for your pet at the end of its life is the most difficult and important part of owning them.” This isn’t a sentence I expect to soon forget. So we laid there on Shaka’s favorite blanket in the sun. My wife and I would take turns lying next to her telling her things we thought specific to our own relationship with her. “Remember that time I tried to teach you to swim”? I said, “You would have done much better if I stayed with it, that’s my fault Shaka, I’m sorry I gave up so soon.” I said. “Remember laying in the sand traps back on the golf course. You loved that didn’t you?” Good girl Shaka. Yes, you’re a good girl. Brooke was sobbing when they came with the needle. A lethal dose of barbiturates that would put our dog to sleep before the chamber was empty. The train was almost on us now and the allegory, however maudlin, wasn’t lost on me. Its whistle fired again, came within sight and then kept on rolling. Our Vet administered the shot. You were always a good girl Shaka, always a good girl. We held her close even after she left. She was warm and smelled like our dog and I started missing her immediately.

I was born and raised in Panama. My Dad worked at Fort Clayton around the time the Panama Canal Zone designation was ending. He worked in sort of a DMV for the US military. Mom was a cultural affairs ambassador for the US Embassy. I played baseball-pitched and played short. There were lots of hotels around us. I think that’s how hospitality got into my DNA. At Christmas we’d eat arroz con pollo and Panamanian Tamales (we cooked ours in plantain and bijo leaves and not corn husks like Mexican tamales), and we’d open one present that was, inevitably, pajamas. The night would end with mass (painful), then fireworks (less so). I went to school at UNLV because they had a good criminal justice program, the climate was great and I got to play softball. In that order? No. As far as getting into the hospitality business, you could worse than a criminal justice degree. First post-Running Rebel job was at The Tropicana Hotel as the Housekeeping Scheduler making $14 an hour and scheduling 250 housekeepers. It was a great foundation. Took a job as Assistant Executive Houskeeper (there was lots of assisting to do, there were 14 of us and near 5000 rooms). Being an Assistant Executive Director of Housekeeping meant you made beds. And then you helped make beds. Let me tell you, I can make a bed. I ended up at the MGM Grand as the Director of Housekeeping; one of the largest Hotels in the world. I felt a little over my head which is not an altogether bad place to be I think. I figured it out. I didn’t make beds anymore but I stayed there 3 years anyway. I care about people. And not simply so I can get what I need out of them. I think every person that has worked for me, or I’ve worked for, has stayed with me in some capacity. They leave me with something. I appreciate that. My favorite place to eat in Vegas is probably Chayo Mexican Kitchen and Tequila Bar inside the Linq. They make a Chicken Al Pastor taco with Chile Guajillo Salsa, pickled vegetables and grilled pineapple. How about that? A shot of Patron X Guillermo Del Toro Tequila too. ¼ of a glass maybe. Rod Carew was born and raised in Panama. I modeled my swing after his. He lived in Gatun inside the Canal Zone not so far from where I grew up. He still has citizenship there. He used to go to bed with a Ted Williams bat that he won in a Little League Tourney. I have no idea why I know this. Not sure what lined up to place me at Jay Peak; to place us together actually, but I feel very fortunate. It’s as special as I’ve read about. I’ve only been here a season but I can feel it. The guests and staff and management are all connected in a meaningful way but in a manner that I can’t really explain. You have to spend time here to get a sense of it. Ok, maybe half a glass.

In Vermont her own life. Born in Newport. Grew up in Irasburg. Lived in Troy for 25 years. Been at Jay Peak for 10-15 years on the Tram. Worked in HK before the Tram—wasn’t much a fan of cleaning bathrooms. Cleaned the old Hotel Jay—worked with Alice—that lady can room. Most definitely prefer the Tram. I look at this way though, one way or another, we all have to clean our share of toilets. (Chic is here, and talking about toilet cleaning) Her position on the Tram, I think I’m in charge of the tram, but most people don’t listen to me anyway. Usually 7:30 midweek, 7:00. First things, we load water, test run, shovel cabins, have to go up on top every once in a while. I wear a belt. One guy slipped a few years ago but the harness held. He was scared enough of that. I like winter better. More people. In the summer tram runs too slow. Challenging folks stay on longer. Interesting things I’ve seen---moose, turkey, bear, (1st one last summer)—black bear. See Moose on the goat run a lot. (Chic tells us it’s his 85th birthday this year—I will likely get drunk and play golf with my relatives. I had a wedding up here last year. It was awesome. I drank red wine.) I eat in the little bits of time at the bottom. I don’t eat it all at once. First the sandwich-it might take an hour which they say is good for you. I bring small stuff. Sometime I get tips in the summer. Older folks usually. Sometimes they miss the sign to buy tickets and I head out and get it for them. I used to hate to check tickets but then it got easier. Rude people can come from anywhere. But most people are nice. People bring all sorts of stuff with them to the mtn. Who knows. Some people get scared. Lady wouldn’t get in to come back down. Had to have JVFD to get a track vehicle to take her back down. (Chic tells story about his first trip on tram. Violet thought it was stunning but she never opened her eyes, not once). Practice evac all the time. Just did it a month ago. (Chic talking about where he stayed when he first came up here. I had to go through their living room to get to my bedroom—embarrassing when I had half a snoot on and the parents were watching Make a Deal). Because of investors, I see folks from all over—talking to them is a real challenge. One family from near the equator somewhere, and they said Christmas here is much better than the beach. People who have never been here before, even if they’re from crazy far away places, think it’s really really special. Probably because it is. They love the views. Very cool to watch folks light up.

Katherine Sims, founder and Executive Director of Vermont’s Green Mountain Farm To School Program, may not look at herself as any sort of super-woman-she, in fact doesn’t, but her efforts in bringing local food into the light here in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom is cape and tight worthy by any measure. As an Art History major in college, I had a language requirement and figured Italian was the best connection to that. I was bad at it and figured the best way to improve was to move to Italy and jump in headfirst. It was more like stomach first. Obviously, the food blew me away-certainly because of the quality-but it was more the communal aspect of it. How it brought people together. I fell in love with the process of food. Growing, gathering, preparing, eating it-the entire process was so connectively important within the culture. It had an impact on me. I don’t much care for yogurt, tapioca, cottage cheese. It’s textural and visceral. I’ll still eat them if I have to, but would rather not. Italy turned on a light for me regarding food. Vermont lit up the whole house. I had relatives who lived in southern VT and after working on a small farm in Connecticut during school, I started looking at opportunities in Vermont. NOFA sent me a list of farms and I started calling around-trying to find a spot that needed help. Luckily, the Lazors (Jack and Anne of Butterworks Farm in Westfield) needed someone. I did everything from milking cows and picking rocks to reading books and driving tractors. I wrecked a lot of shit driving tractors. I helped launch The Yale Farm Project back at school. It was an urban farm program that helped get local food into the dining halls and integrated sustainable food courses into the curriculum. It was a beta for the Green Mountain Farm To School Program (GMFTS) I created here in Vermont. I collect heirloom seed packets and vintage Pyrex dishware. This isn’t a sentence I would have expected to say when I was younger. If I was wrapped in a truth lasso, I’d be forced to tell you that I have a strong affection for peanut butter cups, Madame Secretary and Pillsbury Flaky layer biscuits. I’m fine if you don’t tell anyone that. Especially the biscuit part. I’m not sure what my super-power would be but, believe me, my outfit would be no joke. I’d have several outfits actually. Bright colors. Functional boots. Possibly an odd hat. Like a character on Soul Train with strength or x-ray vision or something. GMFTS started as just one afterschool program in northern Vermont. Now we have sustainable gardens at 25 schools and 100 different institutions buy local produce from us. Lots of superheroes made that happen. You make three really important decisions every day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. You decide what you eat. I think you need to make good decisions. Not heroic ones, just good ones. Frosting. I like frosting too.

Lobster Cakes with Jay Peak Nordic Center Manager Meagan Robidoux Megan Robidoux is the Nordic Skiing Manager at Jay Peak. She has been a group sales person, a hiking guide, a mountain bike guide, a landscaper and waitress at several Jay Peak restaurants. She’s also a wife, a mother and someone who beams no particular affection toward creamed soups. “Actually, I don’t really ever eat them, but I probably would—like them I mean—if I did.” Forward, we get her thoughts on the development at Jay Peak, how she went from there-to-here, and learn what those on-trail call her. And then she will leave with several poked-upon Lobster Cakes which will land in the lap of her husband, Corbin; delivery yet unverified.

I recently had a conversation with Alice Chicoine-a Jay Peak Housekeeper, bed-maker, and Raised—Jayer for the better part of 35 years. I spoke to her in my office one Spring morning roughly 30 minutes before the start of a shift that would send her into The Tram Haus Lodge for the beginning of ‘Annual Cleans. Alice neither looked forward to, nor dreaded this effort-“It is what it is” she offered when I asked if it was something she either dreaded or looked forward to. This unconsciously ambivalent tone would be interpreted as unconsciously ambivalent coming from just about anyone else. From Alice, though, the reading was literal; an answer, albeit an economic one, to a question. A life of child raising, farm tending and annual cleaning doesn’t leave much room for adverbs, for adjectives-for anything else, really, but the quick and critical. She suffered my questions with the patience probably reserved for her 25 grand and great grandchildren and, when we had finished, shook my hand, turned and went to start her shift.

I have this plant in my office that, each year around this same time, spits forth a red flower. I’m not sure of its species though I believe the genus is called a Succulent. This I remember not only because it’s sort of a pleasant word but because these sorts of plants are good at storing things for later; basically botanical hoarders which is an interesting thing to remember. They are perfectly adapted for dry environments partially because of their mucilaginous nature which, as a word, is somewhat less pleasant. All this to say, it’s a heckuva plant and right around the time we go to print with the Magazine? Bam; a flower. This is the sort of thing that passes for summer inspiration around these parts in February. As we press on, temps are in the double digits below zero, heavy snow is pounding, and a light pole on the Tramside of the resort has just blown over. Small, hoarding plants will have to do. Regardless, we have enough stored in our personal data files to remind us of what’s in store. Deep greens and blues. And Friday night BBQ’s. Indoor waterparks with their tops down. Swimming holes and Tram rides and hiking and viewing the sweet season from a mountain peak rather than a week-at-the-beach. These are things Jay Peakers remember about summer. And not unlike Ms. Succulent, our ability to store away these memories help us through what can be an interminably long, if not still joyful, winter. Summer begins just as school ends and many stories inside this season’s Magazine will connect to that. You’ll see how locals use the resort to strategically vacation (Lancasters) and learn about the strategy required to win a grueling footrace up and over the mountain (Run for the Hills). You’ll hear what our critics think about holding onto winter inside our year-round Jay Peak Ice Haus (Taming The Critics), as we start holding you accountable in our Raised Jay V Raised Something Else section (xx). We’ll show you how, euphemisms be damned, a kid handles the monster (For the Love of The Links pg xx) and what to do when confronted with a monstrous decision (August West pg. xx v. VSO pg. xx). In between, we’ll show you how to book a package, where to stay, small bits of nothing and medium bits of something. What else is in store for this upcoming Jay Peak Summer? We’ve heard things about big Stateside concerts, outdoor amphitheaters, new events and, of course, development that will net us a new climbing center and independent movie theater for next winter. We may even surprise ourselves which happens in a more regular fashion than you’d imagine. Remember this though-whatever happens here, and whatever you get to be a part of this Summer, for sure, will be worth remembering.

We take the notion of sinning, seriously. Seriously enough to bow toward it, toward them, as this year’s compass. Bow feels too reverential. How about we simply acknowledge the role we play in offering space to work out your urges. Those things that you, some figure, were born guilty into. (In truth, we urgently looked into aligning to the Seven Virtues, those ranging broadly from Humility to Chastity. We didn’t make it past Temperance). For fear of being judged, we’ll judge not-at least not out in the open where people can hear us-so have at it. A too-much-of-everything-is-just-enough attitude suits us here. Plus, If someone is actually watching, much less keeping score, they’ll likely understand the carnal urgency a second plate of poutine presents or the wicked thoughts that only the icy-maw between Flyer towers 16-17, can inspire. The Book of Proverbs talks about being wary of Feet that are swift to run into mischief. Being neither judge nor jury (we’re on trial with the rest of you), we suggest you follow us down the road without feeling bad. If Gluttony is truly a sin, eating Miso Hungry’s bowl of Ramen, vegetables and seared pork belly is worth boiling for-check out the Brimstone and Broth on page 10. The hard-fought glories of periods long-past are on display in our Slow To Melt story page 23, highlighting the Jay Peak Hockey League (JPHL) and the 40-somethings that duck, dodge and dive their way across a frozen sheet of Ice Haus floor each week. It’s easy to envy a supportive community but fear not, as it’s no-sin to know and feel too much within; check out page 32 for the low-down. You can also take a look at what our favorite daughters of Jay are up to as they cross and criss through our Jay Peak Nordic Center-think of a day nordic’ing as some sort of anti-sloth movement and you’ll be about half-way there-get it all on page 35. In between, you’ll find the expected fragments of Jay diaspora and plenty of conversation-starting bits. Are you on the path to Jay? (page 40), Do you know what Jay tastes like? (page 12) If you love Jay enough, would you marry it? (page 44). All of it spread across ground uncommon enough to make you feel, hopefully, right at home. And if you tilt toward the belief that laughing sinners are really more fun than crying saints, you’ll probably find your forever home out at jaypeakresort.com.

I am sitting in the office of our graphic designer, Krissy Schmaling, talking about the relationship between analog and digital and the theme of this year’s Jay Peak Magazine when her computer crashes, files are lost and she drops into something resembling, at least for her, panic. We are trying to parse the benefits of analog versus digital across multiple applications. “For instance,” she says, “Not having access to my digital files; score one for analog.” In the world of sound, which carries the analog versus digital debate to its highest frequency so-to speak, Analogists actually prefer the particular modality because of its imperfections; each pop and crackle representing, possibly, some connection to a listener’s past experience or acknowledging some latent ASMR leaning. While those preferring digital are, possibly, simply looking for the convenience of storing, streaming, or reproducing sound whenever and wherever they’d like. While we have no particular horse at the track here, the belief that analog sound, when copied, never really sounds the same, leads us to believe that if Jay Peak were, say, a watch, we’d like to hear ours tick. And that’s the theme of this year’s magazine – a deliberate connection to what is real and genuine and tactile, regardless of what imperfections that definition pulls in. In short, we believe that being able to touch and feel something is the easiest way to actually feel touched, by something, in return. And all of this, we hope, bears out somewhere inside this year’s Magazine. Check page XX for our story on the Jay Peak Chickadees and the ferocity that their realness brings, page XX for notes on our new Clips and Reel Rec Ctr that puts the real in reality, and page XX where you can learn how to build a boarder, from scratch, using tools like family and determination and several days below zero. And pages XX and XX and XX introduce you to employees and locals like Sam Goulet and the Cherry Ridge Crew and Carol McLean who bring their own bit of touch and feel to the experience that nothing virtual could ever replicate. In between we’ll help you plan your stay (page XX), present you with cold hard facts (Go Figure page xx) and even show you the real tools our employees use to get their jobs done scattered across pieces of the marginalia. Whether your frequency runs digital or analog, though, we’re certain that the ties that bind us are as real as the snow that buries, the wind that blows, or the mountain of thanks and gratitude that we have for each other and each individual piece of pop and crackle you bring to the party. Have a great season and we look forward to seeing you Steve

It’s really the damn marketers fault. The expectations we put on vacations and corresponding, though potentially unconscious, notion that we better damn well be creating memories I mean. And those memories better be huge; 65 MPH drop, favorite meal ever, biggest snowstorm in history type huge. It’s what we’ve all come to demand from our vacations-even your friend to the left that simply offers, “I just want to relax.” is really saying “I better remember this as a vacation so relaxing my heart slowed to a full stop” type experience. Marketers have leveraged the notion of memory making by promising things like, ‘Memories Created Here’ with Cinderella’s Castle as backdrop, ‘The Sea Is Calling’ with an ocean liner the size of a Junior High School, or a Paragliding tour company who send folks over an active Indonesian volcano suggesting, ‘We Can’t Guarantee You Won’t Get Scorched!” as its cutline. Double negatives aside, each Marketing Department is, not-so-subtly, promising you a vacation you won’t forget by trying to create moments so big, you can’t. If only we were innocent of the charges here at Jay Peak. On one hand, you can’t fault us. When you add $200,000,000 worth of on and off mountain upgrades ranging from indoor ice arenas, increased snowmaking firepower and gorgeously affordable slope side lodging to Championship golf courses, new Mountain Learning Centers and a massive indoor waterpark-you feel obliged to promise a vacation that will stick with you, somewhere, forever. See, there we go again. We can’t help ourselves. But this year, we’re betting on the small. On the slow. And the deliberate. We’re betting the memories you’ll make, while spending time with us in the mountains, won’t be judged by their size or speed but by how well they connect you to a place in time. To a moment. To your moment. And then we want you to share them with us. In some sense, this year’s Jay Magazine will bear out the benefits of anticipating the big while appreciating the slow. You’ll read about The O’Shea’s small, thoughtful corner of the Kingdom and better understand the small bits of Jay that kid’s value (Pg XX). You’ll get insight into a major shot in the arm of our Snowsports School with the addition of our new Mountain Learning Center (Pg XX) and get a whiff of our alarmingly big sandwiches, piled high, and served higher-up in our refurbished Sky Haus Café. You’ll hear our Mtn Planner Walter Elander plan (Pg xx), you’ll get an idea of what’s Raised Jay and what isn’t (Pg XX) and you’ll get a first-frame look at what the most ardent within Raised Jay Nation consider moment-worthy. In between, we’ll show you how affordable it can be to visit, the best times to land, what’s new, what’s better, and what’s what. And then you can take it from there. What’s always been special about Jay Peak-what separates us from other great vacations, is us; the real belief that the distinction between employee and guest can be very small. Show us what means a lot to you—what you remember and what’s likely to always stay with you. Those moments you’ll share are likely to feel very familiar. To all of Us.

Hot August rain is hammering away as we put together random pieces of conscious and unconscious thought here in Jay Peak Winter Magazine World. Designers have suggested we run stories, images and layouts through the prism of surrealism; the definition of which goes something like this; the creative potential found in the unconscious mind and through the irrational juxtaposition of words, ideas and images. Irrational? This is something we can get behind. Surrealists, as goes their philosophy, believed that ordinary and depictive expressions are vital and important, but that the sense of their arrangement must be open to the full range of imagination according to the Hegelian Dialectic. Before things get too Greek here, let’s explain that as the construct of an argument passing through a negative filter on its way toward mediation (sort of how the more delicately educated have argued against our fundraising approaches as of late). The Surrealists sought to resolve the contradictory conditions of dream and reality and they embraced idiosyncrasies and rejected the idea that, for instance, you’d have to be mad to paint a green apple across the face of a man in a bowler hat (Magritte) or put a 60,000 square foot waterpark dab smack in the middle of ski resort (Stenger). The small space created by the opposing forces of dream and reality is where, they believed, lived the truth. Ruth. Oddly connected thoughts and images aside, the 2014-2015 version of a Jay Peak Winter vacation is as surreal as ever and is perfectly evidenced by our lineup of features just a few pages forward. Check out what happens when fantasy crashes headlong into reality in The Rescue on page 12 and the metaphorically surreal layout of our new Stateside Recreation Center on page 18. Megan Robidoux testifies as to her realities on page 33 across our In Defense of Wandering piece and for those that navigate the altogether unreal spaces of social media, page 44 will net you a look at How To Win Facebook Friends and Instagram People. In between we offer loosely connected scraps of moment minding, Jay Peak finding, and the easiest way to book a vacation you’ll both remember and never forget. We’re still not sure of the nuance between the two, but it’s probably important. We hope you like the magazine and enjoy whatever moments you get to spend here this season.

Who doesn’t need or hasn’t, at some point even held out for, a hero? If you’re 40ish and of MTV-generation stock, you likely immediately connect to Bonnie Tyler and her Footloose anthem, circa 1984. Baby Boomer? You connect to a simpler, less Aqua-Netted period and likely look at heroes through a Spiderman, Hulk or Wonder Woman lens. And if you date further back into the greatest of generations, your oldest-school sensibility connects perfectly to Stan Lee and his Flash and Captain America characters. Here? We tilt a bit toward Lee’s creation Jack Frost, who seemingly awoke wandering the Arctic with no knowledge of his past origins, yet made completely of ice. He was fond of protecting innocent bystanders with his wholly un-ironic ice umbrella and ultimately vanished after defeating an Arctic Ice-Worm by sacrificing himself. We like him because of his blue skin and 32 degree ambient body temperature. And our shared lack of love for Ice Worms. While you won’t find the heroes contained in this Summer’s Jay Peak Magazine in an Avenger’s episode or lolling about with the Homo-Mermanus, Sub-Mariner (apparently, the most short-fused of the super-heroes), they’re no less character leads in their own right. Just minus the tights, gilded weaponry and shellacked hair. Check out several words about, and by, super-foodie Katherine Sims in our interview on page (XXX), or learn how to properly cultivate a superhero of your own in our Raised Jay Camps in (XXXXX on pg XXXXX). Get inside a phone-booth with Mr. Kelly to learn how he brings both of his identities to bear as he manages Jay Peak’s thickly settled restaurant scene on pg (XXX) and learn how Jay Peak’s own Jack Frost-Dennis Himes-created a camp for future lines of heroic female defensewomen (pg XXX). In between all this are mild-mannered looks at how to be Jay, how to see Jay and how to Raise yourself Jay-in words, pictures and mildly suggestive illustrations. Our Vacation Planner section across pages (xxxx – xxxx) will help you plan the perfect getaway to a spot that feels not totally unlike your own Fortress of Solitude. The Arch-enemy of boredom? Our Pumphouse Indoor Waterpark. Our music festivals (3rd Annual Jeezum Crow and 12th Annual August West) act as a de-facto dynamic duo of Summer fun. And while I might not be able to parallel the Hall of Justice with our award winning championship golf course, know that it wasn’t from a near heroic lack of trying. Suffice to say, you don’t need any form of x-ray vision to see that a Jay Peak Summer Vacation will put a cape on your back and an S on your chest with the family. There. I’m done. We look forward to seeing you this summer and fall. If you have any questions about booking your Jay Peak vacation, I’d be happy to help. Drop me a line at swright@jaypeakresort.com To infinity and beyond. Steve