In the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, back when snow fell from the sky more frequently, I worked with Ben Myers in Taos Ski Valley. He was 18 the season I met him, and he had a full beard that made him look 25. When he skied, he wore a smile that made him look like a six-year-old. The guy could ski just about anything, which is what he usually did, even if the conditions said not to. When we skied together, having to call patrol to scrape him off a rock was always a possibility.

I never had to call for help. It seemed like the joy he got from skiing was so powerful and infective, it kept him out of harm’s way on the mountain.

Unfortunately, Ben got sick a few years later and no phone call, or anything else, could save him from the cancer that took his life so quickly. He was 26 years old. His friends, however, have worked in his honor for 18 years to help others who like Ben, needed assistance with medical bills. 

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