The creative passion that makes the Sundance Film Festival come alive is: Robert Redford. He started the film festival 26 years ago, and not without controversy. Mr. Redford sensed the film industry was headed for a creative stall, so in 1981 he launched the Sundance Institute. It became a non-profit organization dedicated to the development of artists whose work reflected an independent spirit. The Institution's programs serve filmmakers, writers, theatre artists, composers, and producers.

This year, there were nearly 4,000 entries for only 123 film slots. These films have never been mainstream as they focus more on discovering new diverse filmmakers from different racial and ethnic groups. In 2007, the prizes all went to films concentrating on historical and political issues, and most films were absorbed by tear-jerking dramas:

"Chicago 10," played on opening night. It talked about unapologetic political explorations of Central, South America and Africa.

In "Enemies of Happiness," a Danish filmmaker documents an Afghani woman's election to parliament.

The Bolivian film "Cocalero," follows the campaign of an Aymaran Indian, Evo Morales, who becomes the first president of Bolivia.

"Padre Nuestro," won best US drama, a saga about a Mexican's search for his father in USA.

Other honors went to: "Manda Bala," about government corruption in Brazil.
"Grace is Gone," is about a father who takes his daughters on a trip to postpone telling them their Mom, a US soldier, was killed in Iraq. Its writer-director, James C. Strouse, won the Waldo Salt screenwriting award.
The audience award for documentaries went to Irene Taylor Brodsky's "Hear and Now," about deaf, aging parents.

An Israeli film, "Sweet Mud," directed by Dror Shaul, is about a young boy coping with his Mom's mental illness.

"Once," is another drama about an Irish street musician by John Carney.
A British documentary, "In the Shadow of the Moon," is all about the Apollo space program.

"Teeth," a horror comedy got acting prizes, as did "Four Sheets to the Wind."
"No End in Sight," by filmmakers Alan Berliner and Carlos Sandoval, all about a study of the Bush administration's handling of the Iraq War, walked away with a special prize.

Among other Sundance honors: for directing: US drama, Jeffrey Glitz, "Rocket Science." Directing a US documentary, Sean Fine, and Andrea Nix Fine, "War/Dance."

Jury prize for international short film: "The Tube With a Hat," Radu Jude, director.

After the festival, I headed for the slopes, happily sundancing at Park City, starting to ski at "Alpenglow," supposedly an intermediate run. Hower, flying in from sea level I was huffing and puffing to get pure oxygen into my lungs and found it not so easy. I knew I was in trouble when an orange jacket whooshed by me with the speed of a silver bullet. As I skied in his tracks, figuring he knew what he was doing, I skied faster and closer to him, at which point I owed an apology to the Miami Ski Club, when I read:"Austria - Ski Team." I had learned to ski with the Miami Ski Club and I should have put on the back of my jacket: "Florida," to alert the left-over Olympians that I really did have an excuse for any unforgivable sin on the slopes. After my knees begged for mercy, I traversed out of his tracks and rested admiring the fantastic scenery of the Wasatch Mountains. I then skied down to the warm-up hut for hot chocolate and coyly skied "Homerun," a three-mile glide to the bottom, the rest of the afternoon. To stay out of trouble, I skied that run the rest of the day, thinking I might try "End Zone" and "Charlie Brown," if I got up the nerve to ski the double black diamonds later; or if I was in a suicidal mood.

The following day, a group of teenage rubberized snowboarders started rocking the chair lift back and forth terrorizing me. I told them to "knock it off - if you don't want me to poke you in the eye with my pole!" They continued to taunt me because I was from "Florida," by whizzing by me on my left and right, turning cartwheels over my head while I was skiing in fresh powder near the trees on "Harmony," making my own tracks in virgin snow. I can ski fresh powder of about four inches, but not deep powder snow as I tend to sink in it up to my hat. The only way I know how to keep from suffocating in it is to lie on my back and slide (sometimes backwards) yelling:"watch out - runaway Floridian on your political right;" much to the consternation of expert skiers in my spiraling downward zig-zag path.

I decided to drive to Stein Eriksen's Deer Valley, where snowboarding (and backsliding) is not permitted, at least not near Steven Spielberg, whom I saw skiing with his family on their very well-manicured slopes. Also, cell phones are not permitted in the restaurant where I had a delicious white egg omelet with salmon and capers. So civilized for ski snobs like me! Be prepared to file bankruptcy when you get their bill.

Skiing is a sport I thoroughly enjoy, but only when conditions are right. No ice, (as I can't ski moguls;) no snowstorms, (I like to see when I'm going over a cliff into avalanche country;) no overcrowded chair lifts, (I like to stay on the cold chair; as I am afraid of heights;) no rude Kama kazi snowboarders colliding with me, (my bones break easily.) Utah has some of the best skiing in the world, and I must confess, last week was picture perfect.

I must compliment Robert Redford for his foresight in finding a beautiful place, both in winter and summer for his Sundance Institute; and also, Stein Eriksen, for choosing Utah for their business ventures; a place full of friendly Mormons, and lots of fresh powder snow and sun. Quite a respite for overheated Floridians. Now I have to give my friendly chiropractor, Dr. Andy Slatkow, a call. In case you go skiing, his number is: 954-943-6339.

Think Snow!