The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
~W.H. Auden, To An Athlete Dying Young
Durango Mountain Resort used to be called Purgatory. In all the time I’ve lived in Colorado, I’ve only driven by the place a couple times. It didn’t make a big impression on me because you can’t see most of the mountain from the highway. What you can see, even coming off Molas Pass, doesn’t look all that impressive, even though it dwarfs Sunlight’s 470 skiable acres by a good 730.
My son and I drove down there last Thursday so my son could participate in the Jesse Scott Memorial Super Giant Slalom. Any time someone’s name is attached to event like this, it peaks my interest, but Googling various permutations of Jesse Scott yields little more than references to this event. So I asked around to see if I could sate my mild curiosity about Jesse Scott.
The girls behind the front desk struck me far too young and nubile to be concerned with such matters, and they readily lived up to my impression. The race fact sheet stated that we could get a better room rate by using the phrase “Jesse Scott Memorial” on check-in, so I used the name-drop as an opportunity to raise the subject.
“Do either of you know who Jesse Scott was?”
“Sorry, I just moved here from Sandusky.”
The other young lady just shrugged her shoulders, “Got me.”
“Maybe I should look for a bartender with crow’s feet” I thought to myself.
Turned out I found something better than a grizzled barkeep. On Saturday, the Durango Winter Sports Foundation hosted a barbeque for the racers, and one of the guys flipping burgers was Jesse Scott’s father, a retired school teacher with a big grin and a bubbly disposition. After the second race, I spotted him in the crowd and introduced myself.
I learned that Jesse grew up racing for the Durango Ski Team. When Jesse was a junior at Durango High, he realized he’d never make much of a mark in ski racing, so he tried out for wrestling and started competing on the pro rodeo circuit. Sadly, just months after graduating High School, Jesse perished in a car crash.
It’s one thing for a father to honor the memory of a son, but Jesse’s friends were also present, flipping burgers and handing out prizes during the awards ceremonies. Their volunteerism continues to honor a beloved son, a good friend, and well-lived life.
Sometimes I wonder what molds a child’s character, what forms the kind of personality that others find compelling. My gut tells me there’s no one right recipe, no proven formula, and that the most important ingredient is the child him- or herself. What’s required beyond that is a reflection-worthy subject. One thing’s for sure: whatever it is, Jesse Scott had it.