I Stole the First Issue of POWDER Magazine I Ever Owned
I don't break the law. I follow the rules.In support of this statement, I was given the nickname 'Dad' by my college friends for always being the level-headed guy who attempted to save them from getting arrested for public intoxication or some other debauchery.I internalized the nickname as an unpleasant jest at first—I ultimately wanted to be like everybody else, having fun—but I wore it like a badge of honor after a while. Perhaps it was something to do with my relationship with own dad.My dad put me on skis when I was four years old, but as my mom recalls, he would have done so earlier if she had allowed him to. I became a skier, and still am a skier, because of the influence of my dad. Plain and simple.As a child I didn't fear my dad, but I respected his peace, if you will. As the oldest of two brothers, I tried to do things that made him and my mom happy. I did not make him happy, however, when I stole a copy of POWDER Magazine that he ordered, and then subsequently lost it.This piece is part of POWDER's Summer of Ski Nostalgia content series. Stay tuned in daily for more nostalgic articles, and keep an eye out for the upcoming Summer of Ski Nostalgia badge to identify future content.You can also view all of POWDER's summer nostalgia content here.Want to keep up with the best stories and photos in skiing? Subscribe to the new Powder To The People newsletter for weekly updates.
I can't recall how old I was when this ordeal went down, but according to my mom and her wagging finger, I was "old enough to know better. "As a kid from Delaware, skiing wasn't something I shared with many of my friends. We played soccer, linked our gaming consoles for LAN sessions, and did other normal, suburban kid stuff. Skiing was something I liked to do, but it wasn't a passion quite yet. I didn't have a community to share the experience with outside of my immediate family and 10–20 days we skied each season.Here's what I remember: My mom would regularly ask me to walk down to the end of the driveway to retrieve the mail. On one sunny Saturday in the fall, the mailbox was stuffed to the brim with various ads and magazines. I normally would just stack the mail and carry it inside, but the capitalized word POWDER caught my eye on one of the magazines. Powder? Like powder skiing? I was intrigued.I wish I could remember the specific cover, but I've sustained too many concussions playing soccer between now and then. That, or I'm just dumb. Regardless, I was immediately enamored. Up until that moment, I had only read about skiing in a brief section of Sports Illustrated, or in a coffee table book that my dad purchased. I had no idea that skiers were creating entire magazines completely about skiing. My mind was blown.
I mentioned my memory issues before (super ideal for somebody who tells stories for a living). I can't recall what happened between my first glance at that issue and my dad scolding me for losing it, but we were all kids at one point. Kids do dumb things.Holding that first copy of POWDER felt validating. It was my first glimpse into the broader skiing world that I was so very naive about. What I do remember is that POWDER felt like it was written for me. I was young, probably only eight or nine years old, but it felt like the writers were speaking directly to me as a skier, not as a kid from Delaware who was on the outside looking in.This introduction to POWDER is one of a handful of memories that evolved my love for sliding downhill into a passion and a way of life.My dad remained displeased with me for stealing and losing his issue of POWDER, but we worked out a deal for future issues. He would read the new issue for as long as he pleased, and then pass it over to me once he was done.It's still hard to believe that I work here all of these years later.This piece is part of POWDER's Summer of Ski Nostalgia content series. Stay tuned in daily for more nostalgic articles, and keep an eye out for the upcoming Summer of Ski Nostalgia badge to identify future content.You can also view all of POWDER's summer nostalgia content here.Want to keep up with the best stories and photos in skiing? Subscribe to the new Powder To The People newsletter for weekly updates.
I Stole the First Issue of POWDER Magazine I Ever Owned first appeared on Powder on Jun 25, 2025

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Yahoo
21 hours ago
- Yahoo
Howard go-kart case stalls as Board of Appeals fails to reach decision at hearing
Jun. 27—The Board of Appeals will continue a hearing on a Howard County dad's go-kart track in July. Subscribe to continue reading this article. Already subscribed? To log in, click here. Originally Published:June 27, 2025 at 4:08 PM EDT
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Yahoo
I Stole the First Issue of POWDER Magazine I Ever Owned
I don't break the law. I follow the support of this statement, I was given the nickname 'Dad' by my college friends for always being the level-headed guy who attempted to save them from getting arrested for public intoxication or some other debauchery.I internalized the nickname as an unpleasant jest at first—I ultimately wanted to be like everybody else, having fun—but I wore it like a badge of honor after a while. Perhaps it was something to do with my relationship with own dad put me on skis when I was four years old, but as my mom recalls, he would have done so earlier if she had allowed him to. I became a skier, and still am a skier, because of the influence of my dad. Plain and a child I didn't fear my dad, but I respected his peace, if you will. As the oldest of two brothers, I tried to do things that made him and my mom happy. I did not make him happy, however, when I stole a copy of POWDER Magazine that he ordered, and then subsequently lost piece is part of POWDER's Summer of Ski Nostalgia content series. Stay tuned in daily for more nostalgic articles, and keep an eye out for the upcoming Summer of Ski Nostalgia badge to identify future can also view all of POWDER's summer nostalgia content to keep up with the best stories and photos in skiing? Subscribe to the new Powder To The People newsletter for weekly updates. I can't recall how old I was when this ordeal went down, but according to my mom and her wagging finger, I was "old enough to know better. "As a kid from Delaware, skiing wasn't something I shared with many of my friends. We played soccer, linked our gaming consoles for LAN sessions, and did other normal, suburban kid stuff. Skiing was something I liked to do, but it wasn't a passion quite yet. I didn't have a community to share the experience with outside of my immediate family and 10–20 days we skied each what I remember: My mom would regularly ask me to walk down to the end of the driveway to retrieve the mail. On one sunny Saturday in the fall, the mailbox was stuffed to the brim with various ads and magazines. I normally would just stack the mail and carry it inside, but the capitalized word POWDER caught my eye on one of the magazines. Powder? Like powder skiing? I was intrigued.I wish I could remember the specific cover, but I've sustained too many concussions playing soccer between now and then. That, or I'm just dumb. Regardless, I was immediately enamored. Up until that moment, I had only read about skiing in a brief section of Sports Illustrated, or in a coffee table book that my dad purchased. I had no idea that skiers were creating entire magazines completely about skiing. My mind was blown. I mentioned my memory issues before (super ideal for somebody who tells stories for a living). I can't recall what happened between my first glance at that issue and my dad scolding me for losing it, but we were all kids at one point. Kids do dumb that first copy of POWDER felt validating. It was my first glimpse into the broader skiing world that I was so very naive about. What I do remember is that POWDER felt like it was written for me. I was young, probably only eight or nine years old, but it felt like the writers were speaking directly to me as a skier, not as a kid from Delaware who was on the outside looking introduction to POWDER is one of a handful of memories that evolved my love for sliding downhill into a passion and a way of dad remained displeased with me for stealing and losing his issue of POWDER, but we worked out a deal for future issues. He would read the new issue for as long as he pleased, and then pass it over to me once he was still hard to believe that I work here all of these years piece is part of POWDER's Summer of Ski Nostalgia content series. Stay tuned in daily for more nostalgic articles, and keep an eye out for the upcoming Summer of Ski Nostalgia badge to identify future can also view all of POWDER's summer nostalgia content to keep up with the best stories and photos in skiing? Subscribe to the new Powder To The People newsletter for weekly updates. I Stole the First Issue of POWDER Magazine I Ever Owned first appeared on Powder on Jun 25, 2025


Vogue
5 days ago
- Vogue
What My Father's Career in Crime Taught Me About Resilience
When I was 15, I loved escaping the heavy, wet heat of the Florida panhandle to stand in the chilly darkroom of my nighttime photography class, watching pictures from my father's hippie days slowly sharpen, an unknowable life revealing itself under the red light. For years, Dad had worked long hours while I was busy becoming a teenager. I moved in with him when I was 14, shortly after his split from my mom. When I found three rolls of undeveloped film at the back of his closet, I registered for a dual-enrollment photography class through my high school. Dad drove me there and back every Wednesday. One night, on the way home, he saw an advertisement on the Applebee's marquee: 2-for-1 steaks with a side! Once we were seated, I laid the photos out between us. In one, a woman with a short skirt and a crocheted, triangular bra top stared straight at the camera, biting her lip. In others, strangers stood talking or sat playing guitars or harmonicas, most wearing bell bottoms, smoke rising softly out of their mouths. Dad said, 'You know how I used to say, 'Before you were born, I was a pirate'?' I nodded. He tapped on the stack of pictures. 'It started around this time.' Over cheap steaks and wilted vegetables, my dad explained that his life in crime started in the late 1960s. First it was rolling barrels of marijuana off boats in the Port of New Orleans; later, he graduated to captaining the ships. Then he got his pilot's license to fly cocaine from South America into the Deep South. 'The point is, I made those mistakes so you wouldn't have to,' he said. 'Drugs are dangerous—and the reason I'll never meet my grandkids.' I stared, blinking, not really believing his wild stories—and certainly not realizing that the Hepatitis C my dad contracted from those pirate days would end his life a few months later. After he passed, I found his fake IDs, birth certificates, and old pilot's license. I sat on his bedroom floor, sorting through the artifacts as the sunset threw pink light across the whole room, my body, and the keys to the mystery of how a poor kid from the boiling, low-slung beaches of the rural Gulf Coast made his way to South American jungles, where he smiled beside international smugglers while wielding a machete the way so many other dads show off their daily catches with their fishing buddies.