"He said he never wanted a real job," Pam Macy-Williamson told me about Warren Miller, who passed away earlier this week.
The legendary outdoorsman filmmaker, known especially for his work producing hundreds of skiing films, died at age 93. We ran his obituary on the front page of this sports section because I had heard tangentially about how he had spent some time locally and I know I've seen his films showing at various venues around the Berkshires in recent years.
I wanted more information about this man, whom Macy-Williamson said "was like the original ski bum."
Obviously, as you can tell by the mere existence of this column, I'm fascinated by and immersed in ski culture. It's something I've been thinking a lot about lately. My brothers and I are very different people. Both of them live in Boston and I don't see them as often as I'd like. One is an accountant and the other works in criminal intelligence. Me, I'm a sportswriter with a ski column living out in the Berkshires. However, as different as our lives are, one thing we've always had in common is skiing and snowboarding. My older brother and I learned to ski at a tiny spot called Jericho Hill that doesn't exist anymore. Through five years of high school, every winter Thursday night was spent at Wachusett for Ski Club and every Martin Luther King Weekend was spent at Waterville Valley. We owe our parents, neither of whom ski but spent countless hours in lodges waiting with hot cocoa, a debt of gratitude. It bonded us in a way I'm not sure anything else ever really did or could.
This story can be read in its entirety on The Berkshire Eagle website, or you can reach out to me for a full copy.