Posted by Dana Heimdahl Chernault on December 9, 2018:

Hi, Amy, I just stumbled upon your Dad�s obituary, as I was thinking about him. It�s been so many years; a lifetime really. I have no earthly idea why I was even thinking of him, as the last time I saw him was right before his graduation from West Point in 1983. I knew your Dad. I am the daughter of a West Point graduate (Class of of 61), and my Dad was teaching at West Point from 1979--1993. I lived within walking distance from the Plain at West Point, and at the time I knew your Dad, I was a high school student. I was also a ski instructor at the Victor Constant Ski Slope at West Point from 1980-1982. I met your Dad in the winter of 1980 on the ski slope. Actually, I NOTICED your Dad in 1980, but did not actually speak to him for another 3 months. My best friend Meg got really tired of my admiration of your Dad from afar and finally forced an introduction in the ski lodge one day! It still stands out in my mind as one of the most embarrassing and uncomfortable moments in my life. But it has also given my best friend and I many a chuckle over the years as well. I never knew your Dad as well as I knew the some of the other skiers on the Cadet Ski Team. He and I did go on a few dates when we first met, but I really think he was just being nice. He was also extremely shy. We did continue to be friendly until he graduated from West Point and we lost touch. A few memories: he was a beautiful skier. I used to stand at the bottom of the hill just to watch him sometimes. I was a good skier, but with him it just seemed to be an innate skill. At practice, he always wore red stretch ski pants. My best friend started calling him "red pants". One couldn�t miss him on the ski slope: the beautiful, graceful, blonde skier with the bright red pants. He was also a great athlete off the slopes. I remember he was an avid cyclist, and saw him a few times in the spring or fall around West Point on his bicycle. My friends and I would also occasionally meet up with your Dad and his friends at Eisenhower Hall some Saturday evenings, to chat, dance, and drink beer. I ran into his best friend Bill Sternhagen at an Officer�s Club in Bamberg, Germany in the late 80s. He told me then that your Dad was ill. It made me so sad to hear, because he was such a life force. I never knew he had a daughter. I was surprised and glad to hear this! I�m sorry you never knew your Dad. But I�m sure he was proud of you, and I know you would have loved him. I hope life has been kind to you. And I hope it helps to have these little bits and pieces to hold on to about your Dad.

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