Chapter 15
Unlike the seats on a Ferris wheel, the chairs on a ski lift didn’t stop to take on passengers and let others off.
You had to mount and dismount while it was moving because it never stopped.
Sticking the landing on a ski lift chair required a certain amount of skill.
Having six-foot boards attached to the bottoms of both your feet tended to complicate every action you took, but it wasn’t as hard to do if you weren’t wearing skis.
That’s what Jojo tried to impress on Miriam.
“Just stand here and watch and see what everyone else is doing,” Jojo said with her arm on Miriam’s shoulder.
“When we’re at the head of the line, we hurry into the space between chairs, wait for the next chair to come around behind us …
and then sit down on it.” She pointed to a Royal Oaks staff person who’d been stationed beside the lift operator and clearly his job was to assist the newbies onto the lift seats.
“He’ll keep us from falling on our backsides. ”
There were one-seat, two-seat, and three-seat chairs scattered randomly among those going up the mountain.
Jojo watched as three Amish women waited to get on a lift chair together, and the next available one only had one seat.
They were surprised, giggled, didn’t know what to do until the lift assistant pulled one of them into place in front of the chair and off she went.
“It’s a little like being scooped up by a snow shovel,” Jojo said.
Miriam grinned tentatively. “But what if I sit down too soon, or the chair just hits me in the back and knocks me over? Or …”
“Sweetheart, people are getting on ski lifts on ski mountains all over the world at this very moment and we’re just two of them.” She gave the girl a side-armed hug, clumsily because of the two jackets, and she mumbled under her breath, “I look like the Michelin Tire Man.”
“Who’s that?” Miriam asked but didn’t wait for a response as a new fear struck her. “You won’t get on the chair by yourself and leave me here, will you? I don’t want to go alone.”
It seemed clear that now Miriam didn’t much want to go at all even accompanied.
She’d probably have been happy to step out of the line and just watch the others.
But that was the thing. Growing up Amish, Jojo had always had a sense of watching the English do life while she sat on the sidelines.
Jojo didn’t want the child to grow up intimidated by new things, so when the time came to decide, Miriam wouldn’t remain Amish only because she was afraid to be anything else.
An Amish couple, man and wife, got into a seat, were whisked away, and suddenly it was their turn. Miriam froze, but it was easy for Jojo to push her along—the snow where the chairs were loading had been packed down so hard it was a sheet of ice. Jojo just dragged Miriam into position.
The chair came up behind them.
“Sit,” she said and pulled the girl down beside her. Trident needed no coaxing to hop up into the chair on the other side. He lay down and put his head in Jojo’s lap. The chair wobbled a little, and then the man put the bar down in front of them, and they were off.
Miriam grabbed Jojo’s hand, squeezed it so tight it almost hurt. The girl buried her face in Jojo’s side so she wouldn’t have to look.
“Earth to Miriam,” Jojo coaxed. “You can come out now. This is the fun part.”
The child peeked out with one eye. Then she sat up. And the look of wonder that suddenly transformed her face was so pure it was almost holy.
“Look!” she gasped. She seemed to want to say something else, but couldn’t find the words, just gawked in joyful astonishment at everything around her. Then she cried, “I wish I knew how to ski, and then I’d come flying down the mountain …”
That’s my girl!
“Nothing’s impossible, Sweetheart, if you want it bad enough.”
Jojo almost said more but bit her tongue.
She never encouraged the young people that she knew, her nieces and nephews or the children of friends, to leave the Amish way of life after they went on rumspringa.
She’d left, obviously successfully, had gone out into the big world and made a life for herself and then came back home to her roots and the mountains that were home.
Amish teenagers often sought her out at gatherings, engaged her in conversation, peppered her with questions about what it was like out there in the wide world.
Questions ranged from “Do the English ALL have indoor plumbing?” to “Does a Starbucks coffee really taste so good it’s worth five dollars?”
She’d determined that she’d provide information if they wanted information, encouragement if they sought it, but she made absolutely certain to encourage each of them to search their own hearts, to decide for themselves how they wanted to live their lives, to count the cost of walking away from everything that was familiar to them.
“Make sure the juice is worth the squeeze,” she told them all. “Is what you’ll get in return worth what you’re giving up?”
The chairlift continued upward, getting higher and higher, the lights brighter and brighter in their eyes, the snowmaking machines spewing white crystals out into the air, their rumble making conversation impossible.
As they neared the top of the slope, Jojo turned to Miriam.
“Do the same thing here to get off that you did to get on … except in reverse.”
“Can I jump off?” Miriam giggled, obviously not afraid anymore.
“Sure, just get out of the way so you don’t get clocked in the back of the head by the next chair.”
The first thing Jojo did when she got off the lift was strip off the big, black ski jacket she’d hidden under. She’d actually been sweating wearing two. Then she shoved it into the hands of two Amish women riding back down and asked them to turn it in for her.
When she turned back to Miriam, she saw the child’s eyes were as big as saucers.
“This is … steeper than Miller’s Hill.” A tinge of fear returned to Miriam’s voice.
Selecting a sled, they moved away from the other people, and Jojo set Miriam on the sled facing downhill.
“Now, you are the captain. You’re steering this ship,” Jojo said.
“How do you steer a sled?”
“Oh, I have no idea.”
Miriam looked at her in alarm.
“It’s not like it’s got a wheel you can turn. How did you steer on Miller’s Hill?”
“You don’t have to steer on Miller’s Hill—just slide down. In a few seconds, you’re at the bottom.”
“Well, it will take considerably more than a few seconds to get to the bottom of this slope. I’ll be the brake.”
“How are you going to stop us?”
“I’ll figure out something. As a last resort, we can always abandon ship.”
“Dive off? I?—”
Jojo poked Miriam in the ribs. “Come on, kiddo, lighten up. Let’s do this.”
She gave Miriam and the sled a mighty shove and then leapt on behind her, leaving her legs to dangle in the snow with her knees bent so her feet were in the air. Trident loped happily beside them in the snow.
“Hold on tight,” Jojo cried. “You’re going to remember what happens next for the rest of your life.”