My friend and WGBH-TV colleague Tamsen (upper right) invited about two dozen of us to her family's ski lodge in snowy New Hampshire one weekend. And here are three of us. Left, Claire, who grew up in Rome where her father was a diplomat. Right, John, an animator and film teacher at the Massachusetts College of Art. What I remember most about the weekend was walking into a darkened dormitory on the second floor where someone had left a trap door open. I fell down a complete flight of stairs, tumbling into a living room of shocked late-nighters. I was black and blue down one whole side of me for weeks. A doctor friend later told me that I probably would have been hurt had I not been intoxicated. As it happens, I got sober five months later.
History of woolen caps. Claire's is cashmere, of course. I am not sure whether I had been invited but begged off (in which case I am glad I was washing my hair that weekend) ... or whether I had not been invited to start with (in which case I suppose I am vaguely miffed).
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