I grew up in the coastal community of Cape Elizabeth which is a suburb of Portland,
Maine. I can vividly remember the fog horns at Two Lights and Portland Headlight
blaring their warning to incoming ships in foggy or snowy weather. In fact, in the
winter, I would get very excited when the horns would blow at night, because there
would probably not be any school the next day. Yeah! We could spend all day digging
tunnels in the snow banks and building forts. Back then, the secondary roads would
be plowed, but rarely salted and sanded as they are today. At times we could ice
skate on the packed, frozen layers coating the street. I can still the nostalgic hum of tire chains on
cars going by. And then there was the occassional rythmic clang-bang of a chain beating on a fender
because a link broke. We used to stay out so long that our our knitted mittens would be caked with
balls of snow and our toes would feel like one degree above freezing. We’d reluctantly come in and
dry our stuff on the steaming radiators.
When I was 10 or so, I recall “skiing” on “skis” that only had a leather strap to jamb
the toe of your rubber boot into. You could not turn the skis because your heel would
just slip off the ski. Then someone invented leather bindings. If you had those you
were ready for the olympics! Later metal bindings were developed but those required
special boots. Who could afford that luxury? They became known as “bear traps”
because there was no safety release in case of a fall. Broken legs quickly became
synonymous with skiing and gave the sport a bad reputation. I broke a few pairs of
skis over the years trying to navigate ungroomed “trails” that were well appointed with trees, rocks, and
other non-skiable objects; but never broke a leg. I decided that I would quit while I was ahead and
vowed never to ski again!
Years later, after I began working at Bell Labs, I became involved in a very active ski club there. It was
the social activity to be involved with as some 70 or so fellow emplyees would head off to the
mountains nearly every weekend during ski season. I met Helen at the Labs and convinced her that
this was a fun activity and group. Since I was “pretty fond” of her, I spent a fair amount of time
“showing” her how to ski and not racing off to ski with the pack. She was a quick study, and has
turned out to be an excellent skier.
Since we both enjoyed skiing, after we got married we continued to ski a fair amount. Through a
series of acquaintances we were invited to join friends for a weekend at the little known ski area in
Western Maine called Sunday River. Well, that snowballed into a land purchase and two years later
we began construction on what became an awesome investment. Not just a financial investment,
but in a wonderful family/social investment. Over the 30 or so years we have owned our little home
in the mountains, we have easily had hundreds of friends and guests spend the weekend, vacation
weeks, or just stop for a visit.
Here’s some random photos of life at Sunday River
Cunningham Family Web Site
Interested in some history of Sunday River?
Here’s a link to an article published in the August 2, 1984 issue of
the Oxford County (Bethel) Citizen. Retyped and reproduced with
permission.
Here’s a link to an article that I wrote in 2001 about the history of
Viking Village.
