In Memoriam: Michelle Parker remembers Timy Dutton (1987-2014)
While there are innumerable hilarious, fun stories to be told about Timy, what stands out in my mind right now is Timy’s strong sense of individuality.
Timy lived in the moment. Not sometimes, or every once in a while—always. He was completely content and absolutely stoked on whatever it was that he was doing, and you’d better believe that he couldn’t have been more excited when his friends were having fun, too. He never felt like he was missing out. It was contagious.
When I was with Timy, I wasn’t missing out on anything. How could we be? We were probably having the time of our lives running around like we were ten years old. No cares, no stress—just good, lighthearted, ten-year-old fun. It could be the most epic powder day at Squaw Valley, but he would be equally as happy skipping out, and instead sessioning a three-foot jump-to-flat in his backyard, doing backflips all day. Teaching me backflips. We did that. We felt like we were ten.
Timy was confident. He said what he wanted and did as he pleased. He was beyond comfortable in his own skin. This was truly one of my favorite things about Timy, and it’s rare to find that character in people. He was just that content. There was no one to impress, no pressure—it was just all about having a good time with friends and family.
Patient, kind, talented, thoughtful, loving, hilarious, lighthearted, simple, adventurous, passionate, generous, honest, filled with laughter—he had the greatest smile. All of these words put together, they could never do Timy justice. He was simply one of the greatest humans I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He was the best friend you could ever have, no matter the situation. I laughed my hardest with Timy. I had the most fun with him. All of the worries in the world were far away. Timy was as real as they come.
Timy’s individuality is unmatched—truly a character that I wish everyone could know and appreciate. He had life figured out. Simple pleasures, good times, the best friends and family. Always completely there and in the moment. I love that kid.
About the author:
Freeskier Magazine—This is skiing.