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Hometown

Sandy, UT

Joie de VIVre

A morning of powder skiing on “Gunsite” at Alta and laughing at the bottom because it has been so much fun. Being ridiculously goofy in front of my husband — letting him see a side of me that no one else does. Romping in the snow with my dogs, noses covered in snow, tails wagging. Surf weekends in Mexico with friends. Dinners with my husband, engaged in thoughtful and challenging conversation. Researching mortgage lending opportunities in Mexico and the U.S. Being a stepmother to Casey and Peyton, two wonderful kids.

VIV Moment

When I was 16, I was miserable and unhappy at a small prep school in New England. I had been at a public high school the year before, but felt that it was time to move on, get a new experience, a new place.

After my decision to go east for school, I looked at several places, but none of them tugged at my heartstrings. So, I made the safe choice and went to the school where my brother had gone, a small school with structure, meaning study halls, dress codes and a homogenous student body. Within weeks I knew it was not the place for me.

Determined not to come back the following year, I told my parents that I wanted to go back to public school in Colorado, or maybe look at an idyllic school on the coast of California. I had decided that New England was not for me, I wasn’t eastern. I didn’t fit in. Set in my decision, I began daydreaming of my new life in the mountains or by the ocean, being back with “my people.”

My parents strongly tried to deter me, saying that the geographic shift from east to west was not going to solve my teenage doldrums, that they knew better. They believed that a place is what you make of it. They suggested looking at some bigger and more prestigious schools on the East Coast. I thought I would hate those snooty, elitist, eastern institution places. I agreed to go look, just to prove to them that I was right and how wrong one of these schools would be for me.

I walked onto the campus of Phillips Academy at Andover, MA, and within minutes, the hair on the back of my neck was standing up. There was an energy at this place that I had never felt. My stomach was buzzing, and my face lit up like a light bulb for the first time in months. Walking the campus, I saw that the student body wasn’t cookie-cutter J.Crew-catalog types, but a melting pot.

Kids came from everywhere. I met people who were so accomplished and so confident. They were from every corner of the globe, like the harpist from Kenya who also played soccer and spoke five languages, and the captain of the football team who was REALLY into Shakespeare and a true thespian. The layers and apparent contrast of these students, and their ability to be who they wanted to be and achieve it, truly impressed me. They were confident in who they were at age 16 or 17. I had never known people like this, but I was excited by it.

At that moment I knew that I wanted the chance to surround myself with these kinds of people, no matter how challenging the environment or how average I felt in comparison. Deep down, as much as it wasn’t the vision I had for myself, I knew I belonged at that very moment. I realized that the opportunity to put myself in an environment where I knew that I could fail was such an exciting prospect! It was my own “choose your own adventure.” By visiting the campus at Andover, I found a door that I walked through and it changed the course of my life.

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