One of the most meaningful moments of the evening was a champagne toast and an original poem shared by Rebecca Sampson and Amy Sampson-Cutler. Inspired by “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon, the poem reflects Mount Peter’s history, heart, and the generations of families who have made this mountain what it is today.
Below is the full poem read in tandem by Amy and Rebecca:
I am from snowfall, from millions of ice crystals that lay on the land.
I am from snow, from Pisten Bullys and Rossignol. I am from the warm white farmhouse, surrounded by flowers and grass, smelling of apple pie.
I am from a lodge I have painted by hand, both haunted and warming, which holds voices and memories and still manages to give new beginnings.
I am from the mountains, full of beauty and grace. From camping at the top of Rim Run to ski racing in an ice storm at Whiteface.
I am from icicles, clinging to the overhang by the slanted windows I looked out as a child. In the reflection I see myself through the eyes of a ten-year-old who loved skiing and boys and dogs and adventures through the quiet woods and never worried over how we were the only people I knew who were guaranteed to have a white Christmas.
I’m from a family that play in the outdoors together and a family that nurtured all kinds of life.
I’m from Christmas in July when the snow melts and all the people have driven away, from trips to Colorado and treacherous roads.
I’m from a family who laughs, cries, fails and keeps going.
I am from thousands of hours as a ski instructor, skiing backwards and holding the tips of a little kids skis more than I skied forward. This was, hands, down, my greatest job ever, even though I always thought I was way too cool to wear a hat.
I am from ski fast and don’t fall, endless drills and hiking for gates. From side-eying my sister who was being tipped $50’s while I was on my fifth straight hour of training at negative 2 degrees.
I am from hardworking parents; a mom we sometimes called Gail-vina and handsome Don Sampson who all the ladies always fawned over.
From a mother who lied to my Dad about knowing how to ski when he hired her as a ski instructor all those years ago, just cause she thought he was cute.
From battling my town and hoping that this winter, next winter, the following one would always sustain us.
I’m from the belief that it doesn’t matter where you come from and no one can tell you otherwise. From New Jersey, Taylor ham and wine.
From watching my manners and putting work first and “if you’re not going to do the job all the way, don’t even bother to start it.”
From being told if you start it, you will finish it and you better watch your mouth.
I am from wondering what it is like to live in a regular house that does not have thousands of people pass through it.
From being the sister of an author, in my memory and Highpoint, the days of long ago and today, pursuing the dreams of yesterday and tomorrow, and how important to life they have become.
I’m from down on my knees, praying for cold, watching for snow, counting down the days until the first day in April when we could finally rest.
From earning the title “Miss Vacation” and ski trips and “work meetings” on the mountain.
From sticking together through sickness and health.
From red quarters and the Ms PacMan arcade when I had mono. It went from the lodge to the living room, and although I was sick I was the envy of every seventh grader in Warwick.
I am from romance and first kisses on the borvig. From being pregnant and working in the kitchen even though I was two weeks past my due date and my doctor put me on bed rest.
I am from watching little kids grow into adults and bring their own kids and then grandkids to ski. From the first snowboards allowed on the mountain to building a tubing hill so that everyone can enjoy their time here.
I am this mountain who teaches more than skiing but teaches life. Teaches truth. It teaches resilience and the power of faith. Faith in the cycle of nature and knowing the cold will come after a rain.
I am this mountain, who has taught thousands of teenagers what it means to do hard work. Leave your problems at the door, and change someone’s day with a smile.
I am Mount Peter. You are too. And thanks to the trees and the rocks and the ever-running stream, we will live on forever.