My sister Gretchen and I first walked into Marjorie and Ridgeway's (Gillis) Lower Angora cabin with little backpacks in 1959 when we were very young. I don't think I was carrying much - but I remember the rucksack and that I did not get carried in because my dad was carrying little brother, Teddy. Fast forward 35 years and I had my three kids carry their backpacks in with the youngest, Kyle, at 1 1/2 years old. He carried all his diapers and had his life jacket stacked on top of his rucksack towering over his head.  We made it up the road across the Lower Lake from the Gillis Cabin, but did not know how to alert Cousin Carol that we were there - Jim came to our rescue honking his horn to wake up the cabins. He couldn't get over little Kyle with his huge load. I can remember the wry smile and he was still talking about it the next day when we came up for the traditional lemonade Popsicles.

I kept abreast of the fires in 2004 on behalf of the family and had long talks with Jim in the aftermath about what could have been done and how to move forward in saving the Tahoe Basin for the future. He had Angora in his soul and we are all the richer for it.

Since first experiencing Angora Lake as a small child in the early 1950’s, the Hildinger family and my family have developed a lasting friendship. My connection to Angora Lake, and especially my memories of Jim Hildinger, is built on our yearly summer vacations there. Our time at the Lake every August was and is always something to look forward to. A large part of that positive experience is due to Jim and the Hildinger family being protective of the Lake and surrounding natural environment. Their love and respect for Angora is a legacy that continues to this day.

Jim’s appreciation and respect for the immense natural beauty of Angora Lake inspired my family in many ways. My mother, Alva Steccati, took inspiration for her watercolors from the rocks, trees and water as do I.

My father, Hugo, was a professional photographer. Over the decades, he took many photos of the ancient twisted junipers, majestic cliff and watery reflections. He also shot many images of Jim and the Hildinger family. On the “Gallery” page I have included five of Hugo's black and white images showing Jim during a music recital at the lake, the “Green Mule” making a rooster-tail as it sped along Angora's shoreline, and a rare shot of Jim actually relaxing on the beach.

Jim gave my brother, Leo, one of his first jobs, as a summer-time helper at the resort. Leo lived in his little room behind the store, known as “Leo’s Pad”.

So many memories: Jim standing at the doorway of the dining room, ringing the dinner bell, dressed in his white waiter-jacket. Jim giving us moonlit rides across Angora Lake in the “big” sailboat (equal parts electrifying and terrifying for me) as Jim expertly maneuvered the swiftly moving boat through the dark water to the waterfall cascading down the cliff.

In the early 1960s, the Telstar communications satellite had been launched into orbit. The evening of our weekly Angora campfire, Jim told us that Telstar would be visible late that night as it crossed the sky over Echo Peak. Much later in the evening, as the campfire embers glowed in the darkness, many of our fellow campers had headed back to their cabins. But several of us stayed, including Jim of course. We were thrilled and awed to see the lights of Telstar as it traversed the night sky against a backdrop of countless stars.

One of my other vivid memories of Jim is his recounting the long-ago experience of being at Angora Lake during a rare August snowfall. I have memories of that same morning, seeing the old wooden row boats covered with snow. As Jim looked on smiling, my father took a photo of me writing my name in the snow on the side of one of the boats.

We all knew Jim expected us all to be at the boat camp dock at noon when we were sailing for a nice lunch including the red checkered table cloth that I'm told only came out when I was in Tahoe in the winter.  Jim also used to bring crystal glasses for the winter to our special lunches.   I wrote a poem that kinda says it all.