My favorite memory? Oh, there are so many. I'll try to keep this short. One of my earliest favorite memories was our first family snow ski trip to Vail. Hold on, I'll get there. Being a farm boy from flatland Farmersville, Texas, he enlisted in the Tenth Mountain Division during WWII and was sent to Italy. He admitted to a little white lie concerning his qualifications on his application concerning his mountain climbing and skiing experience. When finally, at the age of four or five, I was old enough to be allowed on the slopes. He taught me how to fearlessly ski poleless on the bunny slopes. The ski trips continued, and when he was in his 70's and able to get a free ski pass because very few people his age attempted what he loved, I remember being astonished by his grace and agility as I followed him down the slopes. He was always athletic. He ran, played golf, tennis, softball, hunted and was quite the gymnast. When I was in junior high school, he tried to teach me how to do a standing back flip. He stood me on the ground in our back yard, cradled his arm around me and told me to jump up and back. OK, maybe. It worked! Then he stood me on the wall around our patio and told me to jump up and back. Not even maybe. Even with his outstanding patience and instruction, we decided that I should stick to somersaults. I love you, Daddy. You will be cherished always. Paula Bowers Rogers
