Eric's Obituary (Sarah)
Eric Leonard Pendleton, 60, of Jackson, N.H., passed away at home on July 17, 2017.
Born in North Conway, N.H., Eric was a lifelong resident of Jackson. He attended Holderness School, Burke Mountain Academy and the University of Vermont, where he graduated with a Bachelors degree in geography.
Eric grew up skiing at Wildcat Mountain, and pursued ski racing throughout high school and college as well as on the Eastern Pro Circuit.
In 1984, he won the challenging Tuckerman Ravine Classic Giant Slalom by over 3 seconds, racing down over the Headwall of Mount Washington. At one time he was ranked sixth nationally as a Nastar pacesetter.
In addition to skiing, Eric was a member of the Red Parka Pub soccer team, competing in Division 2 of the New Hampshire Soccer Conference for many years. He competed in many local running races, including the White Mountain Milers half and full marathons (best time just under three hours) and the Mount Washington Road race. An avid golfer, Eric will be missed by his Don Ho teammates and his many golf buddies.
Eric loved hiking. He completed the New Hampshire 4,000 footers while still in high school, and for years marked in red on his many maps all the trails he hiked in the White Mountains. A serious cyclist, he competed in the bike race up Mt. Washington and other bike tours in New England. One year he even rode the Mt. Washington race with a broken collarbone, not wanting to waste either the training or the entry fee.
Eric worked in the ski industry in the Mount Washington Valley for most of his adult life, as ski patrol at Wildcat Mountain, as Nastar pacesetter and chief of race crew and timing at Attitash Mountain, and then as a beloved ski coach for Wildcat Mountain Ski Club. During the off season, he worked a variety of jobs including carpentry, cooking, tiling and golf course and trail maintenance.
Eric was funny, irreverent, brilliant and courteous of others. He was happiest in the mountains, hiking or skiing, or playing golf with his buddies.
He was a selfless coach and co-worker, a devoted uncle, son and brother. He enjoyed reading, drawing maps, solving Sudoku, eating lobster and drinking a bottle of India Pale Ale now and then.
He is survived by his parents, John and Alice Pepper of Jackson; his sister and brother-in-law, Sarah and Roger Isberg of Jackson; his brother and sister-in-law, Brian Pendleton and Darchelle Worley of Seattle Wash.; and six nieces and nephews, Silas, Kirsten, Bridget and Rowan Gill and Daniel and David Pendleton.
Friends and family are welcome to attend a memorial reception and celebration of his life on Sunday, July 30, at 4 p.m. at the Eagle Mountain House tent in Jackson.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the Eric Pendleton Scholarship Fund at Burke Mt. Academy, 60 Alpine Lane, East Burke, VT 05832.
Eric Leonard Pendleton, 60, of Jackson, N.H., passed away at home on July 17, 2017.
Born in North Conway, N.H., Eric was a lifelong resident of Jackson. He attended Holderness School, Burke Mountain Academy and the University of Vermont, where he graduated with a Bachelors degree in geography.
Eric grew up skiing at Wildcat Mountain, and pursued ski racing throughout high school and college as well as on the Eastern Pro Circuit.
In 1984, he won the challenging Tuckerman Ravine Classic Giant Slalom by over 3 seconds, racing down over the Headwall of Mount Washington. At one time he was ranked sixth nationally as a Nastar pacesetter.
In addition to skiing, Eric was a member of the Red Parka Pub soccer team, competing in Division 2 of the New Hampshire Soccer Conference for many years. He competed in many local running races, including the White Mountain Milers half and full marathons (best time just under three hours) and the Mount Washington Road race. An avid golfer, Eric will be missed by his Don Ho teammates and his many golf buddies.
Eric loved hiking. He completed the New Hampshire 4,000 footers while still in high school, and for years marked in red on his many maps all the trails he hiked in the White Mountains. A serious cyclist, he competed in the bike race up Mt. Washington and other bike tours in New England. One year he even rode the Mt. Washington race with a broken collarbone, not wanting to waste either the training or the entry fee.
Eric worked in the ski industry in the Mount Washington Valley for most of his adult life, as ski patrol at Wildcat Mountain, as Nastar pacesetter and chief of race crew and timing at Attitash Mountain, and then as a beloved ski coach for Wildcat Mountain Ski Club. During the off season, he worked a variety of jobs including carpentry, cooking, tiling and golf course and trail maintenance.
Eric was funny, irreverent, brilliant and courteous of others. He was happiest in the mountains, hiking or skiing, or playing golf with his buddies.
He was a selfless coach and co-worker, a devoted uncle, son and brother. He enjoyed reading, drawing maps, solving Sudoku, eating lobster and drinking a bottle of India Pale Ale now and then.
He is survived by his parents, John and Alice Pepper of Jackson; his sister and brother-in-law, Sarah and Roger Isberg of Jackson; his brother and sister-in-law, Brian Pendleton and Darchelle Worley of Seattle Wash.; and six nieces and nephews, Silas, Kirsten, Bridget and Rowan Gill and Daniel and David Pendleton.
Friends and family are welcome to attend a memorial reception and celebration of his life on Sunday, July 30, at 4 p.m. at the Eagle Mountain House tent in Jackson.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the Eric Pendleton Scholarship Fund at Burke Mt. Academy, 60 Alpine Lane, East Burke, VT 05832.
Remembering Eric (Brian) Return to Top
Eric was an athlete, most notably a skier but a cyclist and runner, soccer player and golfer as well. He also loved hiking. The shoe collection in front of the wood stove revealed the progression we all make from heavy Limmer hiking boots to lightweight hiking shoes to trail runners and racing flats and finally just sandals. The footgear gets lighter as we get older. Other than eating dinner with Mom and John and occasionally shopping for beer for the family Christmas party, hiking was the one thing Eric and I did together. I regret not arranging to do that with him on either of my last two visits to New Hampshire.
Perhaps we would have talked about my having ALS. When several years ago I announced to the family that I had been diagnosed with ALS and had perhaps two years left to live, Eric commented that it should have been him who died first, and not me. It almost sounded as though he wished that he could die in my place. I wish now that I had asked him what he meant. Hiking with him would have given me an opportunity to do that.
While we were going through his house a few days before the service, I photographed a few pages of a job application which he had written some years earlier in which he outlined his work history. I thought the information might be helpful in my eulogy for him. I also photographed the back of an envelope from Fidelity Investments, on which Eric had written a Sudoku puzzle (one of his passions) and a few notes about something. It was not until a month after the service was over that I took a closer look at the image and realized that the talk he intended to give at my service was the subject of his notes.
Ten years earlier he had composed an obituary for Dad for the local paper. I think he felt a
responsibility to do likewise for me, and to talk at my service as well.
Eric observed once that he gravitated towards being an assistant rather than the leader. He believed it was because I was the leader when we were young, but for much of my career I also avoided being the leader, and was much more comfortable being either the outside expert or the right-hand man. We even both liked data. Eric recorded daily weather observations for years. I have recorded bird observations for years. I suspect we shared more profound similarities as well, though I will never know for sure. Eric's life was constrained by fear, or at least a deficit in confidence, in ways that I think I recognize. While Eric was alive, I noticed the differences between us. Now that he has died, I recognize our similarities, and I regret that we never talked about either.
Eric was an athlete, most notably a skier but a cyclist and runner, soccer player and golfer as well. He also loved hiking. The shoe collection in front of the wood stove revealed the progression we all make from heavy Limmer hiking boots to lightweight hiking shoes to trail runners and racing flats and finally just sandals. The footgear gets lighter as we get older. Other than eating dinner with Mom and John and occasionally shopping for beer for the family Christmas party, hiking was the one thing Eric and I did together. I regret not arranging to do that with him on either of my last two visits to New Hampshire.
Perhaps we would have talked about my having ALS. When several years ago I announced to the family that I had been diagnosed with ALS and had perhaps two years left to live, Eric commented that it should have been him who died first, and not me. It almost sounded as though he wished that he could die in my place. I wish now that I had asked him what he meant. Hiking with him would have given me an opportunity to do that.
While we were going through his house a few days before the service, I photographed a few pages of a job application which he had written some years earlier in which he outlined his work history. I thought the information might be helpful in my eulogy for him. I also photographed the back of an envelope from Fidelity Investments, on which Eric had written a Sudoku puzzle (one of his passions) and a few notes about something. It was not until a month after the service was over that I took a closer look at the image and realized that the talk he intended to give at my service was the subject of his notes.
Eric's notes for my eulogy
"Will I talk? Should eye? Si. Yeah, I'll talk", he wrote. "Brian, I'm working on your epitaph."
"How do we talk about Brian? He was a sacrificial lamb. He was a God-fearing man. I remember Brian sitting by Nana. He had compassion! Selflessness. He was my hero."
"Brian ran marathons like we walk to the mailbox. Where was our mailbox? On the cherry tree? We grew up together. I was his assistant and my life became one of an assistant."
"He was a soft person, 'a flower child'. A true flour child, sensitive. Too smart, I used to think his brain got in his way."
"Try to outlive your parents, I tell him."
As the day of his service approached and I considered what to say about Eric, I simultaneously
realized how little I knew about him, and how much alike he and I were. We both loved the mountains
and found freedom and beauty in trips alone into the hills. We both found purpose and a sense of
accomplishment in individual physical activities - mostly hiking and running for me, hiking, skiing
and cycling for Eric. We both ran a marathon, skiied the headwall, cycled a century. He was faster
at all three."How do we talk about Brian? He was a sacrificial lamb. He was a God-fearing man. I remember Brian sitting by Nana. He had compassion! Selflessness. He was my hero."
"Brian ran marathons like we walk to the mailbox. Where was our mailbox? On the cherry tree? We grew up together. I was his assistant and my life became one of an assistant."
"He was a soft person, 'a flower child'. A true flour child, sensitive. Too smart, I used to think his brain got in his way."
"Try to outlive your parents, I tell him."
Eric observed once that he gravitated towards being an assistant rather than the leader. He believed it was because I was the leader when we were young, but for much of my career I also avoided being the leader, and was much more comfortable being either the outside expert or the right-hand man. We even both liked data. Eric recorded daily weather observations for years. I have recorded bird observations for years. I suspect we shared more profound similarities as well, though I will never know for sure. Eric's life was constrained by fear, or at least a deficit in confidence, in ways that I think I recognize. While Eric was alive, I noticed the differences between us. Now that he has died, I recognize our similarities, and I regret that we never talked about either.
Thoughts on Eric (Sarah) Return to Top
The following is a transcription of parts of a letter Sarah wrote to Bridget in which I have made a number of minor edits and a few more substantial additions, which I have noted inline.
The following is a transcription of parts of a letter Sarah wrote to Bridget in which I have made a number of minor edits and a few more substantial additions, which I have noted inline.
From a young age he was always the joker, could not be in a picture without making a face but otherwise
not really a troublemaker at home. Both Eric and I looked up to Brian and tried to do whatever he
did - fishing, hunting for wild strawberries, doing experiments with his chemistry set, building
with Lincoln Logs (a Lego predecessor), and lots of reading. Being the youngest Eric probably got
picked on more but sometimes he and Brian ganged up on me instead. Nothing too serious but not fun
at the time. Grandpa George was harder on him than on Brian or me.
None of us had many friends in Jackson though Eric may have had more than Brian or I since he was more outgoing and better at hiding the fact that he was smart. We all got good grades, but getting better grades than your classmates in a small rural grammar school did not make you popular. Brian: Eric had an additional burden of meeting the high expectations, both academic and behavioral, set by his older siblings.) Unlike Eric, both Brian and I skipped a grade, contributing to our reputation for being smart even as it handicapped us socially. Our closest childhood friends were the children of Grandma's friends, including Doug and Cathy Reusch and Andy and Nat Howe, but they were living in Massachusetts by the time we started school.
When we children were 10, 12 and 13, Grandma married Grandpa and we moved to Marblehead. Brian and Eric were not happy about the move but Eric seemed to adapt quickly, again more socially adept than Brian or I. ...It was fun to learn to sail in Marblehead and spend summers swimming and playing tennis at the yacht club, but we didn't feel like we fit in (Brian: perhaps because none of the kids we knew from public school were members). All three of us resisted structure so we did not fare well at summer camps.
Brian: Regarding summer camps, I think Eric attended a local day camp on Children's Island for at least two summers. Regarding high school, Grandpa, having attended Phillips Exeter Academy, was a firm believer in private secondary school so we each started private school in ninth grade. Eric went to Holderness and presumably received a good education, though he apparently also learned to drink. The summer after he graduated while visiting a Holderness friend in western Massachusetts he was driving late at night, passed out and crashed into a tree. His blood alcohol level was well above the legal limit.
Back to Sarah's letter:
I think the actual start of Eric's heavy partying and heavy drinking was, as with many others of our generation and even our parents' generation, in college. He joined several good friends at University of Vermont, some of whom he'd been with at Holderness or Burke. Although he continued ski racing at UVM he didn't quite make the ski team, which was very competitive. Instead he traveled around New England racing on the FIS "B" circuit with partial support from the school.
Eric graduated from the University of Vermont, in 1980 I think, with a degree in Geography. He had since childhood loved drawing maps and collecting maps, particularly maps of ski areas and hiking trails, but he chose not to pursue geography as a career. Instead he returned to Jackson and moved into Brookside Farm, which had been his childhood home and was at that point unused except by Grandpa and Grandma on winter weekends. He took a job in the kitchen at the Eagle Mountain House. Joining the local adult ski racing scene he did quite well and became known and respected in the Valley for his skiing. He took up golf. When he eventually quit working as a breakfast cook at the Eagle, he began running the race timing at Attitash.
On the way home from work he would stop at the Red Parka Pub in Glen where he was one of the regulars for many years. He probably drove home on numerous occasions legally drunk. After he finally had an accident he stopped going out at night, or if he did he didn't drive, I don't think. I am probably remembering things very selectively. Eric and drifted apart somewhat after my two years in Norway, or maybe before, during my years on the US Team. I went through a period of being judgemental but finally realized it wasn't my place to tell him how to live.
There was a lot about Eric that we, the rest of the family, never knew. He kept a lot hidden - his thoughts, his feelings, his outlook on the people and events around him. His standard response through his teens and into adulthood was "I don't care!" It was his way I suppose of hiding or protecting what he really felt in any situation. Looking back, I think there was a kind of fatalism that followed him through the rest of his life. Grandpa kept trying to get him to do something with his college degree, to become a "success", but Eric resisted in his own quiet way, never arguing but persisting in his "I don't care" attitude.
With time I learned to accept Eric's life choices. He, like many others, chose to stay in the Valley for everything it offered: jobs that required skill but didn't demand too much of him, work that he could enjoy because of the people he worked with, people with whom he could comfortably associate after work, and the opportunities for outdoor recreation - hiking, cycling, running, golfing, skiing both downhill and Nordic and more. In the Valley he joined an extended community of like-minded people who appreciated his strengths, respected his limitations and accepted his differences.
I'm grateful to have had the opportunity at his memorial service to see Eric as his friends and his community saw him, and to hear what he meant to them. Some measure success by the size of a person's bank account or the status of a person's position but by the measures of the regard of his community, the affection of his friends and the memories he let behind in the Valley, Eric was a success.
None of us had many friends in Jackson though Eric may have had more than Brian or I since he was more outgoing and better at hiding the fact that he was smart. We all got good grades, but getting better grades than your classmates in a small rural grammar school did not make you popular. Brian: Eric had an additional burden of meeting the high expectations, both academic and behavioral, set by his older siblings.) Unlike Eric, both Brian and I skipped a grade, contributing to our reputation for being smart even as it handicapped us socially. Our closest childhood friends were the children of Grandma's friends, including Doug and Cathy Reusch and Andy and Nat Howe, but they were living in Massachusetts by the time we started school.
When we children were 10, 12 and 13, Grandma married Grandpa and we moved to Marblehead. Brian and Eric were not happy about the move but Eric seemed to adapt quickly, again more socially adept than Brian or I. ...It was fun to learn to sail in Marblehead and spend summers swimming and playing tennis at the yacht club, but we didn't feel like we fit in (Brian: perhaps because none of the kids we knew from public school were members). All three of us resisted structure so we did not fare well at summer camps.
Brian: Regarding summer camps, I think Eric attended a local day camp on Children's Island for at least two summers. Regarding high school, Grandpa, having attended Phillips Exeter Academy, was a firm believer in private secondary school so we each started private school in ninth grade. Eric went to Holderness and presumably received a good education, though he apparently also learned to drink. The summer after he graduated while visiting a Holderness friend in western Massachusetts he was driving late at night, passed out and crashed into a tree. His blood alcohol level was well above the legal limit.
Back to Sarah's letter:
I think the actual start of Eric's heavy partying and heavy drinking was, as with many others of our generation and even our parents' generation, in college. He joined several good friends at University of Vermont, some of whom he'd been with at Holderness or Burke. Although he continued ski racing at UVM he didn't quite make the ski team, which was very competitive. Instead he traveled around New England racing on the FIS "B" circuit with partial support from the school.
Eric graduated from the University of Vermont, in 1980 I think, with a degree in Geography. He had since childhood loved drawing maps and collecting maps, particularly maps of ski areas and hiking trails, but he chose not to pursue geography as a career. Instead he returned to Jackson and moved into Brookside Farm, which had been his childhood home and was at that point unused except by Grandpa and Grandma on winter weekends. He took a job in the kitchen at the Eagle Mountain House. Joining the local adult ski racing scene he did quite well and became known and respected in the Valley for his skiing. He took up golf. When he eventually quit working as a breakfast cook at the Eagle, he began running the race timing at Attitash.
On the way home from work he would stop at the Red Parka Pub in Glen where he was one of the regulars for many years. He probably drove home on numerous occasions legally drunk. After he finally had an accident he stopped going out at night, or if he did he didn't drive, I don't think. I am probably remembering things very selectively. Eric and drifted apart somewhat after my two years in Norway, or maybe before, during my years on the US Team. I went through a period of being judgemental but finally realized it wasn't my place to tell him how to live.
There was a lot about Eric that we, the rest of the family, never knew. He kept a lot hidden - his thoughts, his feelings, his outlook on the people and events around him. His standard response through his teens and into adulthood was "I don't care!" It was his way I suppose of hiding or protecting what he really felt in any situation. Looking back, I think there was a kind of fatalism that followed him through the rest of his life. Grandpa kept trying to get him to do something with his college degree, to become a "success", but Eric resisted in his own quiet way, never arguing but persisting in his "I don't care" attitude.
With time I learned to accept Eric's life choices. He, like many others, chose to stay in the Valley for everything it offered: jobs that required skill but didn't demand too much of him, work that he could enjoy because of the people he worked with, people with whom he could comfortably associate after work, and the opportunities for outdoor recreation - hiking, cycling, running, golfing, skiing both downhill and Nordic and more. In the Valley he joined an extended community of like-minded people who appreciated his strengths, respected his limitations and accepted his differences.
I'm grateful to have had the opportunity at his memorial service to see Eric as his friends and his community saw him, and to hear what he meant to them. Some measure success by the size of a person's bank account or the status of a person's position but by the measures of the regard of his community, the affection of his friends and the memories he let behind in the Valley, Eric was a success.
Stories about Eric (from his service) Return to Top
During Eric's memorial service+ family members and friends from near and far shared thoughts, stories and memories about Eric for several hours. Transcribed here are stories friends shared at the service.
During Eric's memorial service+ family members and friends from near and far shared thoughts, stories and memories about Eric for several hours. Transcribed here are stories friends shared at the service.
Whit Symmes spoke first.
(At the Eagle) Eric got promoted to breakfast chef and was apprenticed to the great Clark Perry.
who is not just the breakfast chef; he was the breakfast show! So at some point Clark passed the
baton to Eric, and Eric took a look at this elaborate system Clark had set up with all these
different ways of preparing eggs - over easy, over hard, over this, over that - and concluded 'This
is nonsense. Who needs to waste life-energy on all these different ways of doing eggs?' Eric
reduced it to just three choices. There was omelettes, there was scrambled and there was not
scrambled! The servers would submit their tickets and Eric would send out the eggs and the servers
would ask, 'Are these over...? and Eric would reply, 'Yeah they're over...' and that was that.
Fred Symmes shared another story of Eric at the Eagle.
Eric didn't just work breakfasts. I remember one time at some fancy occasion, some big event at the
Eagle, Eric was out there carving a big steamship round of beef. He was all dressed for the part
with his white chef's coat all buttoned up and his red scarf, but on his head he had not one chef's
hat, but six of them stacked up on top of his head. People are going through the line, getting
their roast beef and looking at Eric kind of funny, and there's Eric, carving the roast beef and
dishing out all with a perfectly straight face.
Fred remembered how smart Eric was, recalling a telemark race at Wildcat where he was involved with
the timing. Each skier did two runs and received a separate time for each run but the score was
based on the total time for both runs combined. The individual times were all posted in two columns
on a big whiteboard in the base lodge and while Fred watched, Eric just went down the list and wrote
in the combined time for each runner in a third column, adding the two times together in his
head as fast as he could write them down.
Eric was known in the Valley for his skiing. Fred was watching in Tuckerman's on the day of the
Tuckerman Ravine Classic GS in 1984 as the racers emerged one by one out of the cloud ceiling at the
rim of the headwall and as one by one, each racer did a quick turn to check his speed before
dropping over the lip. Except Eric. Without hesitation Eric swept over the lip and smoothly carved
two or three turns down the face of the headwall, a perfect run. He won the race that year, then
once the award ceremony was done, hiked back up to the top of the ravine to ski it again.
Fred had one more skiing story about Eric, this one just last winter. Fred was out cross-country
skiing on the ski touring foundation trails in Jackson and had stopped at a road crossing, the way
everyone does, to take off his skis and carry them across the road, when Eric skied up behind him.
But Eric didn't stop. He just clattered on across the road on his skis without even breaking his
stride. When Fred called after him, Eric explained, "I really like these boots and I don't want to
scratch them up on the pavement."