by Andrea Stickney

How did we ever find that toboggan hill in Kensington? We didn’t. We made it, along with a growing number of winter snow enthusiasts, until the broken arms and legs, not to mention threatened lawsuits, shut it down.  

But that was only temporary. Some things are meant to be, and the hill was not to be denied. Thank God for those individuals with a talent for organizing chaos, because, essentially, that is what it had become. Lines of sledders and tobogganers and occasional snow saucer riders (these were very new) gathered early in the morning, and their legions grew hourly.

Then the action began. Once propelled, lines became nonexistent and 360-degree vigilance was a necessity. Arms and legs waved and flew. Screams, both joyful and panicked, ensued. Usually within two or three adrenaline-filled hours, an ambulance arrived to transport the first serious casualty, most often a fractured limb. Sometimes, with a more serious encounter, the hill went still and silent, all eyes focused in one direction, but not for long.

I think it was the beginning of the third winter when the ropes and rules officially came. Those chaos tamers I mentioned found a way to form lines that did not dissolve and separate vulnerable bodies from the more rigid metal, aluminum, plastic and wood of the winter vessels of joy. The process still works to this day, although there is a hefty charge to use the hill now. Probably pays the liability insurance.

Still, when I think back, it was the best, most exciting, most positive chaos I ever experienced in my three quarters of a century. And I wouldn’t have traded it for Disney World!