My father, long before I was even a glimmer in his eye. My father loved skiing, and worked for years on various ski patrols. He even enlisted in the 10th Mountain Division, just a little too late to ship off to Europe with them. He (an art prodigy and an award-winning WPA muralist since his early 20s) ended up doing many stunning paintings and murals of the war for the army. For him, it was the most eloquent way for him to serve his country. My father was exactly 20 years my mother's elder - a generation, which explains the difference of era. He had been married once before, to another artist who died tragically not long after their marriage. He nursed a broken heart for eight years before meeting and marrying my mother in Woodstock. My father passed away in the early '90s. He lived a beautiful and adventurous life, and the world is a little less rich for his passing.