It’s not the first time a volunteer day with the National Ability Center made me want to cry, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Today was my first day back at the NAC ski school for the winter. My job as a volunteer is to facilitate lessons for challenged skiers. Sometimes they’re autistic kids, sometimes they’re adults with brain injuries, more and more often, they’re wounded warriors. This day, I worked with a guy who just wanted to be a warrior. He was fast-tracking to join the US Army’s Golden Knights Parachute team when he and his dreams crashed to earth, and his back was broken 3 years ago. Bernard is 27 or 28 years old now. He used to be an avid (and really good, if you read between the lines of his stories) snowboarder.
The first time I wanted to cry today was when his instructor, Mike, and I got him into the monoski and he softly said, “I’m back on the snow.” It was first time since his accident that he is getting to ride the snow again. This time, it’s in a bucket on one ski, holding two outriggers, adjustable short poles with little skis, for lack of a better word, on the ends of them. It could have been terrifying for him. It’s really, really hard to master. He couldn’t have been more excited.
He practiced balance and turns for a while on the flats, then we headed for the Magic Carpet, a conveyer belt in the beginner area, which is full of little people and grown ups who don’t ski well. Up the carpet we went, me behind Bernard. At the top, an instructor was messing around with her two little skiers, not paying any attention to us. An hour from then, Bernard would have been able to maneuver around them. But not on his first run. Boom, down he went. I asked if I could help him right himself, but he said no, he needs to learn how to do it himself. He foresees lots of spills in his future. It took him several tries, but right himself he did. And we went onward, up to First Time lift. He immediately got the hang of getting the mono ski on to the chair, with the help of the lift attendant. Getting off was a whole different story.
I should mention that Mike, Bernard’s instructor, also skis in a mono ski. He has Spina Bifida, and therefore has no strength in his legs. But like Bernard, he charged ahead and has been an adaptive ski instructor at the NAC for more than 20 years. He isn’t going to hold Bernard’s hand, figuratively or literally, as he teaches him how to slide on the snow again.
Bernard underestimated the height of the chair from the snow at the top of the lift, and even with my help, couldn’t get off… until we both tumbled onto the snow, causing a decently long stop to the chair running. Bernard had to accept some help getting the mono ski back together and getting us both swept out of the way, but he got back up by himself. It’s no easy feat and requires a lot of upper body and core strength, which he has. He also wasn’t shy about asking Mike for shortcuts and tips, which Mike was more than willing to share. I think Mike may see a little of himself in Bernard.
Then we pretty much watched Bernard, who again, was in a mono ski for the first time ever, ski down the trail like he’d been doing it for years. He went til he tipped over, then righted himself, asked Mike what he did wrong, and made corrections. There was no feeling sorry for himself, no complaining, no frustration. Just determination to get down the hill well. He just said yes. Yes, I will. He made it all the way down without falling on his last run, and his gigantic smile after he saved himself from toppling over in front of the NAC building could have lit up the sky. (I could have cried then, too, but laughed instead.) I’m sure he’ll be doing 360’s by tomorrow afternoon.
His uncle thanked me for helping all afternoon on a really cold day and said some nice things about the NAC. My response was, “Freedom. That’s the biggest gift the NAC gives.” I’m just lucky I am able to help deliver it. Especially today, especially to Bernard. I was honored and humbled and moved to be able to help him regain a few hours of freedom today. It’s not jumping out of a plane, but it is flying down a mountain. I’m not sure who got the better Christmas gift today, Bernard or me.
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