This Essay was written last Sunday as a recap of my participation in the Telluride Ski Swap the previous day. All in all, a good experience and I got a Blog post essay out of the adventure to boot. Can’t beat that?

Word Count-1023

Not Just Your Standard

Blast from the Past

I’ve been helping out with volunteer security for the public radio station (KOTO) Ski Swap over in Telluride for the last twenty-five years. KOTO always schedules the event in November and this year’s version was no exception to the rule.

In the past, I’d drive over to that side of the mountain the day before and sleep at a friend’s house. This made things a lot easier since those of us willing to volunteer could go to the pre-swap to buy paraphernalia for the upcoming ski season the night before. Lately though, KOTO has scheduled the pre-swap for early the same morning as the actual event. Result? I’ve driven over before reporting for duty at 7:30 am. This has required me to get up at the butt crack of dawn (5:00 am) and driving over the passes while it’s still dark outside. Always an interesting proposition, and another one of those situations where I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to do this sort of thing on a regular basis. Sleep being something I enjoy since I don’t have much trouble doing it. Slumber scientists say everyone dreams in one form or another, but I’m one of those folks whose heads hits the pillow when I go to bed, then what seems like five minutes later, the next morning rolls around. Remembering my dreams? Yeah right, and me doing that is sort of thing is like saying you distinctly recall what you ate for dinner twenty years ago after that heated political argument with your parents.

While driving over for this year’s model of the event, I had time to think about how the ski swap has evolved over the past thirty years. One of the thoughts that kept going through my head this year was a query where year in and year out I keep helping out with the swap and asking myself why?

As a matter of fact, why do I keep doing this? All sorts of theories popped into my head, and I kept concluding that maybe it’s some sort of perverse joy? Could I be getting out of bed while it’s still cold and dark, and glancing upward at the stars as I’m scraping a thick layer of frost off my windshield because I enjoy it? Maybe I like listening to radio broadcasts while most of humanity on this side of the globe is still dreaming about winning the lottery? By the way, that’s impossible for me since I never buy a lotto. ticket to begin with, and think of lotteries as being a legalized tax on poor people.

As I cruised through the empty streets of Ouray, I came to the definite conclusion that I keep helping out with the swap because I like re-acquainting myself with people from my past. Of course, it wouldn’t bother me if some of the folks I met while living over there never crossed my path again in this odyssey through life. Most of the people I knew (or get to know), I always enjoy talking to, so the “Telluride-ships-in-the-night” theorem doesn’t really happen too often for me.

When I put in my volunteer application for the swap, I always make a point of telling the volunteer coordinator that I want to do security at the entrance/exit for the event. That always results in seeing people as they’re walking into the public libraries’ basement swap venue. Hard not to run into someone at the entrance unless you’re capable of making yourself invisible, and this only works in certain situations. I’m still ironing out the kinks in order to give myself this invisibility talent, so get back to me in another year concerning this one.

This year working the swap entrance was so cool. I ran into a good friend of mine from Silverton, saw lots of people from the Telluride years, and the highlight of this year was getting to talk to someone I’d been hoping to finally meet for years. He used to live in this valley way back in the stone age 70s, then moved over in T-town for a while, and now lives in Cortez. We met each other when he over-heard me complaining to someone about driving over from Silverton earlier that morning. A great conversation ensued, and among other things I told him I’d say “Hello” to mutual friends of ours that he hasn’t talked to in ages. Both of us mutually agreed that Telluride and the swap itself have changed so much over the years, and did the standard thing of also asking each other where the years have gone. This sort of “blast-from-the-past” conversation doesn’t happen unless I’m doing security at the entrance.

Over the years of volunteering, I’ve also picked up a few other things. Don’t wear tennis shoes while I’m doing this unless I’ve got a perverted desire to experience foot frostbite. In fact, don’t do the job unless I’m wearing multiple layers of clothing and carrying a hat and gloves with me. Being cold has a way of making this sort of thing not so much fun.

Don’t take any of this volunteer gig thing too seriously. After all, and when all is said and done the health insurance benefits aren’t really all that good. People are attending the swap so they can run across that $700.00 pair of skis being sold for the outrageously cheap price of $130.00. I’m theorizing the seller mislabeled the product because of an extreme hang-over resulting from that party two nights ago.

Speaking of which, maybe you’ll run across a hidden deal during one of your breaks? That probably isn’t going to happen unless buying the product won’t break your tight budget, and you’re thoroughly convinced that your positive karma has reached a new, unprecedented, level of excellence.

Of course, you’ve also got a few other side benefits from working the swap (FREE food during your work shift, shopping the pre-swap, etc., etc.), but for me working that entrance and talking to all my old friends is the whole reason I keep doing this.