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were leaving from the parking lot of a major shopping center early on Sunday morning for the ride to the Berkshires for a day of skiing. NBP sponsored all kinds of activities: Cruises, train rides, dances, picnics, even bowling tournaments, attracting singles and couples from Massachusetts to Maryland. Vivian was an experienced skier, but Glenda had never gone before and would be taking a lesson.
    They remained in their respective cars, parked next to each other with the windows rolled down to allow for talking, watching as the buses were boarded. There was no need for either of them to acknowledge that they were doing this to make sure they chose a bus with a good crowd, as in lots of men.
    “ It’s a toss-up between the one in the middle and the last one,” Glenda said.
    “ The last one looks best to me. The middle one has too many kids on it.” The ski trip was a family affair for some, with a fair abundance of children in the seven-to-twelve range.
    As it turned out it really didn ’t matter much, for the bus ride was rather quiet. It was still very early, and many riders fell asleep, including both Glenda and Vivian. The atmosphere perked up as they approached the mountains, after everyone had a chance to rest.
    When the riders disembarked they were divided into groups. Glenda went for her lesson and Vivian introduced herself to other experienced skiers, most of whom, she was happy to see, were men.
    “Do you ski often?” she heard a male voice ask.
    “ Not as often as I’d like to. Once a year, maybe twice, I get together with some friends I grew up with. But it’s much nicer going in a large group like this.”
    “ You’ll have to let them know about our group, especially if they’re as lovely as you are.”
    “ Well, thank you.” She didn’t think it appropriate to mention that most of her childhood friends were not African-American.
    He took a seat next to where Vivian was putting on her ski boots. “I’m Gordon Wilson.”
    “ Vivian St. James.”
    “ Nice to meet you, Vivian.”
    “ Same here.” Gordon Wilson was brown-skinned, with thick wavy hair, a mustache and glasses. He was on the short side, but at least he was taller than she was. You could do worse.
    She straightened after finishing with her boots. “Well, I guess I’m ready to hit the slopes.” She flashed Gordon a brilliant smile. “Will you join me?”
    “ I’d love to.”
    Skis on their feet and poles in hand, they clumsily walked over to the lift for the ride to the slope. Vivian loved the feeling of zooming down a steep hill, the white-covered world passing by in a blur. It was exhilarating.
    She and Gordon took the lift back to the top. During their ride she learned he lived in White Plains and was an accounting director. Funny. When they got off the lift he seemed a mite taller than he had before….
    They had lunch together in the restaurant, but Vivian insisted on paying for her own. She was ravenous and didn ’t want him to think she was being gluttonous because she wasn’t paying.
    “ You ski pretty well,” Gordon said. “How long have you been doing it?”
    “ When I was about ten my parents started taking us on winter vacations. My brother and I took lessons. A couple of times we even spent Christmas in the mountains.”
    “ That explains why you’re so good. And that’s pretty impressive. Back then you didn’t see a whole lot of black people on the ski slopes.”
    Vivian smiled. “No, there weren’t a whole lot, but it’s not like we were the only ones, so we never felt out of place.” She scanned the room, which was peppered with brown faces. “But never this many. This is great. I almost expect to see James Brown and the Famous Flames come out in their ski sweaters and do a number, like they did in some old movie I saw on TV.”
    “ Yeah, I remember that movie! Ski Party, or something like that.”
    “ So where did you learn to ski?”
    “ With the club. I’ve been a member for about three