By all accounts, Jill Kinmont was the Lindsey Vonn of her generation. Both women, with movie star looks, graced the cover of Sports Illustrated for being top American skiers and favorites to win gold medals in the Winter Olympics. Vonn’s dream came true in the 2010 winter games that took place in Vancouver, where she won gold in the downhill and bronze in the Super G.

For Kinmont, there were no Olympic medals, even though at just 18 years of age she was national champion in slalom. The same week she appeared on the cover of the January 31, 1955, issue of Sports Illustrated, with the 1956 Winter Olympics just a year away, her fairytale story took a dreadful turn. During the last race of the season in Alta, Utah, she never made it to the finish. Her fall was so serious she nearly died. Although she survived, she would never walk again.

But her moment in the spotlight was far from over. Her life became the subject of two motion pictures—The Other Side of the Mountain (1975) and The Other Side of the Mountain Part 2 (1978)—not because of her tragic injury, but because of her determination to not let her paralysis define her life. She would go on to earn a college degree and become a special-education elementary school teacher in her hometown of Bishop, Calif. She also got married.

I didn’t see the movies; I was more of a Rocky Balboa fan in the 1970s. But my wife, Debra, saw them both. The second one ended with Jill marrying John Boothe, followed by an update just before the credits: Jill and John Boothe now live in Bishop, Calif.

The movie so moved Debra that she felt compelled to talk to Jill and let her know that she was an inspiration and role model. These were the days before the Web, before Twitter, before Facebook. These were the days of the telephone. Of directory assistance. She dialed the Bishop, Calif., area code, 760, followed by 555-1212; an operator answered, asking what number she sought.

"Jill and John Boothe."

The number was listed. Debra made the call. Someone answered, and Debra asked for Jill. She says she’ll never forget what she heard next—the sound of an electric wheelchair getting closer and closer to the phone. The ensuing conversation between them took place more than 30 years ago. Debra doesn’t remember it word for word, but she does remember Jill’s kindness and graciousness as she talked to a complete stranger. Perhaps, in return, Debra’s words to her strengthened her resolve to keep living her life as, evidently, she does to this day.

Amanda Boxtel has much in common with Jill Kinmont Boothe. She, too, was paralyzed in a skiing accident, and she, too, hasn’t stopped living in the aftermath of her 1992 fall. Understandably, she admits to dreaming of standing up and taking a step with "the wind in your face," a dream that I imagine has been shared by Jill Kinmont Boothe over the years—a dream that Carnegie Mellon alumnus Nathan Harding may make come true (“Standing Tall,” pages 26-29).

—Robert Mendelson
Executive Editor