"You remind me of someone famous." the chairlift operator said again as we sat down on the lift. "Don't worry, I'll think of it," she cried as our chair rose gently toward the top of the hill. It was another beautiful, clear, bluebird sky kind of day, and the kids and I were making the most out of the sunshine by hitting the ski slopes early and beating the rush.

Our local resort, Brian Head Ski Resort, had made fantastic offers to kids in Iron County, hoping to encourage a new generation of skiers by charging minimal prices for season passes. I quickly took advantage of the proposal because finding a combination of family or individual passes making financial sense as a perennial season pass holder was challenging. The family pass only allowed two children and two adults. Linda was busy with horses and couldn't get away, so I had three children and one adult, and unfortunately, "no exceptions" is generally the rule on these types of offers. The school passes allowed the best of both worlds.

"I swear, someone really famous." She said again, and now we had started to guess a few important names. "Chuck Norris?" I asked as I was often told I resembled the famous martial arts actor; however, that was years ago before my hair turned grey. "Nope, that's not it," she cried, and we made our way to the top of the hill again.

Snow skiing with my children has been one of the best things I've ever done as a parent. Riding the lift, spending time, and watching them improve at something physically demanding is incredibly rewarding. I'm thankful that the mountain is close and the prices are reasonable. We take a break for lunch and grab sandwiches and chips out of the truck, dropping the tailgate to sit on.

"Who do you think she means?" Christopher asks as we eat tuna fish and guzzle down cokes. "I'm not sure," I say, and I'm dead honest. There are not very many middle age actors with a full head of gray hair. I kid people by saying I used to pray as a young man that I didn't care what color my hair was as long as it stayed in my head. After turning grey in my mid-twenties, I wasn't so sure, and now I'm often called grandpa and given "senior citizen" discounts by teenagers at Taco Bell because they see the gray and suspect I'm old. "Maybe, Sean Connery," I add, making my youngest son Sean smile as we finish lunch and head back toward the lift.

After a few runs, our college-age doppelganger identifier, slash lift operator, is back on station. As we board the chair, she shrieks with delight, "I remember, I remember!" As the lift pulls away from the ramp. She is screaming now for us to hear, and unfortunately, the entire lift line can also listen in, "You look like the Quaker Oats Guy!"

I look with horror at my kids, and after a second or two, we all bust out laughing, "the Quaker Qats Guy," my daughter Jessica laughs, "doesn't he have puffy hair and no mustache?" And truthfully, I couldn't remember. So we laughed and laughed between runs for the remainder of the day, and now with my true identity revealed, the chair lift operator offered no more appraisals.

After skiing, my family debated the resemblance between myself and the cereal box version down the mountain. It wasn't a Wheaties box often adorned with elite athletes of one kind or another, this was oatmeal, and I finally decided to settle the discussion once and for all; we drove by the grocery store before going home.

We looked and looked, and finally, there he was, row upon row of my doppelganger plastered on every box for ten square feet: Puffy white hair, rosy cheeks, and no mustache. My children howled with laughter, and we laughed until we were crying as we left the store.

Years later, some of my most incredible memories are skiing with the kids on bright sunny days and being mistaken for someone famous!

Written September 11, 2022