Little Dooger’s Adventures

Many lament the “burden” placed on them by being born into a family that has its roots and still maintains them in a small town.  I cannot speak for many of them but the small town I grew up in had more advantages than disadvantages for kids to be kids.

Yes, I grew up in Aspen but that does not change the underlying story but only the location.  When I was a child Aspen was not well known for football, baseball or even soccer.  The kids there learned to be great skiers, hockey players and outdoorsman.  Our childhood adventures included camping in the backcountry in the winter.  When we got old enough to have a car, it was usually a very used four-wheel drive vehicle that could barely go 30 miles per hour but it could climb a tree. 

Much like many small towns, when the kids did something wrong the parents usually knew before the act was even committed.  There was no hiding anything from the “collective” parent population.  This being a disadvantage is stating the obvious, but there was an upside.  Speaking specifically to my situation, at the age of 3 I was skiing down Little Nell on my own without either of my parents in sight, but watchful eyes were always present and my safety was never in question.  At the age of 7 I was working my first job, so much for child labor laws, as a plant “waterer” at the first, yes first, Chart House Restaurant.  It seemed to have more plants than the rain forest at least that is how I remember it.  At the age of 6 I was going up with the crew that eventually built the Snowmass Ski Area, all without my parents in tow.  I was skiing to the top of Aspen Mountain with my friends before I was 10 and I rode my bicycle all over the valley and never once angered a passing car, those were the days.

My childhood adventures are many and at my age now, I can remember only a small fraction of them.  In the “stories” to follow I will attempt to bring back those adventures as best as I can and with what memories I can scrape from the back of my mind.  I had a great childhood, with many friends, loving parents and a real community of people who knew when to help and when to “tell your parents.”

Some dates may be off and some memories may have faded but the gist of the following stories remain the same.