Picto Diary - 12 to 24 July 2026 - Thank Heaven for Little Girls. Maurice Chevalier

Above. Willow Creek Park, Summit County UT. 15 July 2026.

How little girls respond when a big dog (Freddie) interrupts soccer practice. Aside: The two dad/coaches there also got a kick out of it.

Above: Sugar Beach, Wasatch Bagel. Park City, UT. 17 July 2026.

LSDM Friday AM Colloquium. Guest: Robbie Perkins, former mayor of Greensboro, NC.

Above: Monuments to Ev and Joanie Howell. Slackline Park. Park City, UT. 18 July 2026.

LSDM Walkers.

I came across this modest monument at Slackline Park today while walking with Tom Oliver. How it arrived here remains a quiet mystery—perhaps placed with the city’s quiet blessing by one of Everett and Joanie’s children. Whatever its origin, the stone stopped me cold. In an instant, I was transported back to the six remarkable years, from 2001 to 2007, when I skied almost daily with Everett and the original Ski Geezers.

The founding trio—Everett, Don Dowell, and John Brose—were all in their early seventies in 2001. These men were not casual skiers; they were daily devotees at Park City Mountain Resort. Everett’s Utah license plate proudly declared it: SKIGZR. My own induction began with a dim but vivid memory: riding up the Payday lift around 2000 with a stranger named Don Dowell. Conversation flowed easily, and by the end of the morning I had an invitation to join him and his two friends—Everett and John—the next day. From then on, I skied with them nearly every day for the next seven years, averaging roughly 130 days a season.

Tom Oliver, today's walking companion, a year older than me (I was fifty-five at the time), became part of the crew as well. More than fifteen years their junior, Tom and I were affectionately dubbed the “Junior Geezers.” Everett had made his living in the forest and logging business. John was a retired Texas oil man. Don, whose background I recall less clearly, split time between Wellington, Utah, and property he owned in Wyoming’s Star Valley.

What bound the Ski Geezers together was not age, but an almost religious ardor for skiing. We met faithfully at 8:30 a.m. at the base of the Crescent or Payday lifts—thirty minutes before the ropes dropped—like an alpine version of a ROMEO breakfast club. A small band of fellow early risers became our familiar lift-line companions.

Of the countless runs and stories, one stands out in high relief: the morning a cow moose decided to chase Everett down Picabo from the top of the Silver Star lift. Everett carved ahead, oblivious, while the large moose thundered behind him like a furry freight train. The rest of us froze at the top, then followed in stunned silence. Near the bottom, the moose veered off into the trees. Only when we reached the King Con lift did we ask Ev if he’d noticed his escort. He hadn’t. Pure Ski Geezer sangfroid.

They were excellent skiers, these seventy-something warriors. But by 2007, as the original trio approached eighty, time began collecting its toll. Everett passed away of natural causes in 2008. That same year, Don broke his leg near the bottom of Jonesy’s run. John kept skiing, though less often, eventually migrating to Deer Valley. I joined him there on the occasional bluebird day until around 2019, when he moved back to Texas. Last year, John called me from Texas. “Steve,” he said calmly, “I’m calling to tell you that in thirty days or less, I’ll be dead.” At ninety-two, he had lived a full life. We reminisced about the Ski Geezers, the laughter, and the shared trails. He passed shortly afterward, just as he had predicted.

Now, at eighty, I find myself exactly where those original Ski Geezers were when the daily ritual began to fade. I still ski regularly at Deer Valley, though I no longer have a standing crew. I catch companions perhaps half the time. Time, that relentless patroller, keeps sweeping the mountain. And as I stood before that small stone monument today, a quiet, ironic thought surfaced: I wonder if anyone will one day plant a similar marker for me—another faded name on the long, winding run we all eventually ski alone.

Above: Glenwild Country Club. Summit County, UT. 19 July 2026.

World Cup Final between Argentina and Spain. Spain won, 1-0.
Brunch and game. A fun time spent with club member friends.
I look forward to watching my next TV soccer game, four years from now... the next World Cup Final.

Above: Beaver, UT. 20 July 2026.

Koessler family driving north from Ivins, rendezvous with Mwah (sic) and TIMDT driving south to Ivins. I-15.

Image: Koessler and TIMDT.

Above: Utah 1033 Foundation Board Meeting. 22 July 2026.
Zoom.

Above: Willow Creek Park. Summit County, UT. 23 July 2026.

"Thank Heaven for Little Girls." Maurice Chevalier.

Above: Wasatch Bagel, Park City, UT. 24 July 2026.

LSDM Friday Colloquium. Guest: Greg Heidt. Construction Manager, Four Seasons Hotel, East Village. Hat tip: 'Cake.

Above: Utah State Flag. Pioneer Day. 24 July 2

Addendum:

Crossed the Astoria-Megler bridge on a 1500-mile bicycle tour of the Olympic peninsula in 1991. 3 days of rain in 3.5 weeks. Stayed in a small cabin for the 3 days and ate fried oysters from local farms. The bridge was loooong.

Tony,
Park City, UT

What? $1700 on a video game? Seriously? Do you have any idea what my Shanghainese wife would do to me if did something like that?

Stay upright. You've been down too often.

Torq,
Sandy, UT

For better or worse, the tip of the spear of modern technological progress is inspired by video games. Demis Hassabis and Elon Musk cut their teeth on video games, later developed them, and still play them today. Today’s Nvidia chips, which drive the progress of AI, are descendants of Jensen Huang’s video-gaming chips.

My brief foray into Candy Crush opened my eyes to the nature of video games and advanced my retired-geezer educational quest. I’m glad for the experience, though it would have been better had I powered through the levels without having to pay for it.

Wow, you are amazing Steve!
Drummer J,
Lehi, UT

Could it be that the DEI promoting Keyport, Washington Submarine Museum is affiliated with the far left wing commie promoting Smithsonian Institution?

Nathans,
Orlando, FL

Steve,
Why are they 'detonating one stick of dynamite every afternoon'?
Joe,
Gosford, NSW

Poetic. Excellent. “Ride on…”

It reminds me of a paragraph in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness – a much darker description than what you wrote, Steve.

“The edge of a colossal jungle, so dark green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far away along a blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist. The sun was fierce; the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam. Here and there grayish-whitish specks showed up, clustered inside the white surf, with a flag flying above them perhaps. Settlements some centuries old, and still no bigger than pinheads on the untouched expanse of their background. We pounded along, stopped, landed soldiers; went on, landed customhouse clerks to levy toll in what looked like a Godforsaken wilderness, with a tin shed and a flagpole lost in it; landed more soldiers—to take care of the custom- house clerks, presumably. Some, I heard, got drowned in the surf; but whether they did or not, nobody seemed particularly to care. They were just flung out there, and on we went. Every day the coast looked the same, as though we had not moved; but we passed various places—trading places—with names like Gran’ Bassam Little Popo, names that seemed to belong to some sordid farce acted in front of a sinister backcloth. The idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. The voice of the surf heard now and then was a positive pleasure, like the speech of a brother. It was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning.”

You need to publish, Steve.

Panama,
Los Angeles, CA

Well written.
TIMDT,
Ivins, UT

Beautiful.
Tony
Park City, UT

Your writing is remarkable! I truly enjoyed reading the blogs!

Jane Rail,
Massapequa, NY

Wow, Steve. This is beautiful poetry!
Espresso,
Washington, DC

More colorful, descriptive language making if good reading.
Thanks Steve
Joe,
Gosford, NSW

Lyrically poetically and descriptively written. I understand better the allure of taking trips on a motorcycle.
Hoops,
Pelham, NY

I love this piece! I could feel the hot wind and the road below as I read this. Wish I had the talent to convert it into a poem. It would be a classic. Anybody with the special talent poetry requires out there willing to put in the time and effort? Can Ai convert an essay into poetry? I'll check later.

Nathans,
Orlando, FL

Very nice photos Steve.
What kind of dogs?
Joe,
Gosford, NSW

Newfoundland.

Was it at Oregon State College that they filmed "Animal House"??
Nathans,
Orlando, FL