I did it again. Open mouth, insert foot. Anyone who knows me gets that I’m one of the most un- politically correct people they’ll ever meet. Problem is not as many people know me as are offended by the things that come out of my mouth. It’s a good thing I’m a writer. My fingers are much more diplomatic. So why am I pissed at my lips? I say things – out loud- that most people just think. It’s like professional Tourettes. I love meeting people and getting to know who they are and what they do. Then I say something and I see the moment of disbelief flash on their face. Did she really just say that?

I stand up at the Park City Chamber Fall Ski Industry luncheon today in front of the panel of resort managers who are happy to paint a rosy picture of the ski industry and pat themselves on the back; and I say- “Several times the speakers have brought up that Utah needs to grow our season pass sales. Yet while places like Colorado and California are lowering their pass prices and creating multi-resort passes at bargain rates, Utah continues to increase theirs. What can Utah do to attract more passholders?”* I knew as soon as the words spilled from my mouth I had entered enemy waters. NSAA President Michael Berry shuts me down- “We don’t talk about pricing here. That’s a trade secret. It’s a complex process and we can just say that a lot goes into price structure.” The panel falls in line. Jamie Pentz, the publisher of Mountain Magazine who came to town for the event and to meet with advertisers (i.e. his panel peers) defends Utah’s practice- “The people in the Front Range (of Colorado) and the Sierras don’t play well together. They’ve created a dog-eat-dog world because they’re competing for skiers in the Bay Area and Denver. I can tell you that guests from Texas aren’t having the best experience at Vail with the extra 5000 skiers on the mountain. Utah resorts are all friends. They do play well.”

I’m sure if I wasn’t rubbing my butt from the spanking I might have uttered something about anti-trust and collusion. Good thing my tongue had gone limp. Pentz adds that Steamboat’s pass is $1200. As if to say it’s ok to have high pass prices. What he didn’t add was that for an extra $75 you also get unlimited skiing at Winter Park. Canyons’ Mike Gore adds something about value not necessarily being linked to cheap tickets and they move on. My question left unanswered. In fact, one guy passing me leans in and says, “Way to dodge the question, huh?” And I feel slightly validated. I wasn’t imagining things.

After the panel is released, I stand up and mingle. PCMR’s Krista Parry turns and hugs me. Says I look great. She reminds me that her hill actually IS doing something to encourage locals to ski. Not only did they create the STARTNOW program, but they added a tiered season pass to alleviate the sticker shock of going from paying $125 to learn to ski to plopping down $1500 for a pass. “We want to keep those people coming back,” she said. Yep, PCMR currently has the cheapest full season pass on the Wasatch Front at $825. Do I leave it there? Things are good, cut my losses. No. Referring to the unanswered emails I have sent her in the past two weeks because she wanted to get together, I then say, “You never call me back.” “I was gone all week,” she says. “But you never call me back,” I say with a lilt, now referring to countless other times over the years. “I do,” she says. And I reply, wait for it…….”Only when there’s a story involved.” SHIT. There it is again. Did I really just say that out loud? My Tourettes is not winning fans. There’s an awkward moment and then we have plans for breakfast next week. “You’ll call me to set a date?” I ask. “I will, I promise,” she says. I slither away.

I did have the opportunity to shake Mr. Pentz’ hand and engage him in a one-on-one chat. At first I wasn’t going to chance it. Seeing as how I had already muddied the water. But what the hell. My disease knows no bounds. We discuss how Salt Lake City is a much different animal from Denver or the Bay Area. Those people ski. Utahns don’t; at least not en mass. He nods in agreement. Maybe I’m not so obnoxious after all. While those Colorado Front Range resorts compete for Denver skiers, no one here really competes for Salt Lake skiers. They should. Utah locals take a backseat to destination guests. Earlier in the lunch they brought up that Utah is in the middle of the pack when it comes to overall skier visits across the country. Some asked how Utah could move up in the rankings. Berry said that in order to get people so amped about a destination that they tell all their friends and come back regularly, the community has to be behind it. Utah needs to support skiing. Skiing needs to support Utah.

What happens when the weather’s bad, the economy tanks, flights are grounded? It’s the locals that will keep ski areas alive. The Ski Utah 5^th and 6^th Grade Passport program is an ok start – especially when out-of-towners can also take advantage of it- but who has to take the kids to the mountain? Moms and dads. Skiing is a family sport yet there are no deals for the rest of the family. Guess what? Mom just may decide that gas, time and a full-price adult ticket outweigh that free pass for Junior. Pentz is starting to see my point(s).

We talk about his publication. Mountain started three years ago. “I saw the direction Bonnier was taking SKI and Skiing and didn’t want any part of it,” he explains. “How could I go to advertisers and ask them to pay more for less?” And now I interject, “So how is your publication different from SKI?” Yikes! Really? I asked that? Pentz is insulted. I should already know the answer, of course. He rolls his eyes and humors me with an explanation but I have now become irrelevant. “We have a voice they don’t. They can’t touch what we do. For one thing, we don’t teach. There’s no instruction in our publication. We thought we’d appeal to destination travelers but we sell through 90 percent of our issues at Whole Foods. Locals are reading us too. ” Gotcha. It was nice meeting you, I’d love to write for your magazine, do you have a card on you? I conclude and quickly exit.

As I sat in my car in the Chateaux Parking garage, I dropped my head on the steering wheel. You would think that after all these years, after all this time swooning around the ski industry, I would figure out this tact thing. I guess it is getting a little better, I thought as I revved the engine. A person next to me this morning smelled like a brewery but I didn’t say a word; I thought quite a few but they never escaped my head. I haven’t given up hope that one day I will control my Tourettes completely. For today, I take heart in the little triumphs.

*For example, you get unlimited skiing at Squaw Valley and Alpine Meadows combined for $799 while Deer Valley’s season pass is more than $2k this year.

How do you accept death? Life, that’s easy. You look forward to seeds sprouting, grass turning green, a new baby’s wail. But how do you face death without this huge ache and dread in your gut? Maybe it’s different when you’re the one about to go – after you’ve lived 90 years. But I’m telling you now, I’m scared of the pain and unending sorrow that will meet me when a parent dies. No matter how angry and awful parts of my childhood are remembered to be, my mom and dad are my best friends. I call them every other day just to chat and catch up. They get on my case for choices I’ve made, I hang up on them, we chuckle, we plan visits. Who will I call ‘just to call?’ Who will make me feel that no matter what I do, who I do, how I feel, where I am, I have someone I can count on, someone who has my back, someone who still loves me? Only parents do that. They may pull the silent treatment or hold a grudge but in the end the wall comes down. Without them, I’m alone. I’m raw. I’m unprotected. Left to make decisions without their voice in my head; no one to try to make proud of me.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, my parents cancelled their trip to Europe, got in a car and drove 12 hours to the hospital to be there for my surgery 10 days later. They would have been here immediately but I made them wait. No one else but a parent does that for you without asking. They just know it’s what you need.

I want to scream, “Don’t die! You can’t die! Live forever, please?!” But I can’t because it wouldn’t do any good.

My dad’s cousin died last night. I called Dad to see how he was doing. He sounded just like he always does. Upbeat, sarcastic, active. He told me they’re waiting for a guy to show up to measure the backyard for a putting green. Then he said, “and then there were two.” Referring to the fact that only he and his cousin Joseph were the last of his line (ignoring of course that both of them have children and grandchildren). He’s not thinking legacy. He’s thinking time left. Me too. I wish I could pick his brain about death, dying, life, how he sees those, how he faces them, what he wants in the end and what he dreams about. But I can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to talk about it but because I’d be reduced to a blubbering mess. I don’t want them to think they have to do something to make me feel better. We have nothing to resolve, no words left unsaid. But maybe I feel like that kind of conversation could be closure in the future; something to look back on and smile warmly inside? But I’m not strong enough to start that chat.

Maybe I’m afraid to see how scared they really are; or how they’re not scared at all? Maybe I’m just afraid of not being steady. I cried making the speech at my best friend’s wedding reception. She caught it on tape. I’m still mortified by that moment.

How do you tell someone living how much you love them and how much you’ll hurt when they’re gone? You expect them to say something like- “I’m not dead yet” and then you feel like an ass. I hate myself right now because they’re here, they’re not gone yet and I’m grieving when I should be celebrating; when I should be embracing whatever time they are here. My mom is 70-something (she’d kill me if I revealed the number), my dad, 82. This year we are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in Club Med Punta Cana. Last September, I had them running, er, walking all over Epcot, Hollywood Studios, Universal and the Magic Kingdom during a week in Orlando with Sage. People live to 100 these days, right? And if anyone can do it these tech-savvy jetsetters can.

Sometimes I think I’d like to go first and then there’d be no suffering, no emptiness, no pain 100 times worse than a boyfriend ditching you. I’m selfish but not that selfish. My parents don’t deserve to feel what I’m terrified to feel. Neither does Sage. She needs me for her own eternity and I would never want her to want to die before me. I just have to grasp that what will evolve is part of life; inescapable, tragic and tearful. That we did all we could do- are doing all that we can- for this temporal existence and nothing was missed.