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Chapter 18 Summer 1977
"I felt as if my heart would burst, for never had I experienced such profound closeness with nature. . . My sense of reality had heightened and every inch of my body was alive with incomparable sensations."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Summer 1977
The middle of June was slated as the beginning of our summer vacation, and on the 15th, we departed for Colorado. It was a grand trip, for Dad had promised an extensive vacation following the debilitating chemotherapy treatments, and told me that we would go anywhere I wished. My choice was not a difficult one; I had always loved the west and desired to see both "old sights" and new. The resulting journey made its first stop in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, but since we had been to the area numerous times, we did not tarry long; the day after hiking up a small hill and splashing barefoot in an icy mountain stream, we drove along Trail Ridge Road and headed north to the Tetons and Yellowstone National Park.
Yellowstone was a source of much fascination, yet prior to our arrival at the park itself, a short ramble in the roadside brush (for the purpose of taking a better scenic photograph) led to the discovery of an entire moose carcass. I quickly hoisted the head into the air, and positioned it before my own, whereupon my mom excitedly captured my lack of respect for the dead on film. Unable to relinquish my antlered scull, my parents agreed to stow it in the trunk. The weathered skull had been callously separated from its body without last rites or a solitary tear, but, driving from the area, I did not really think the moose would mind.
The next day, after scouting past numerous bubbling geysers, I bought a moose charm in a souvenir shop. I wished to commemorate my find of the previous day (and perhaps, subconsciously placate the moose's spirit if it had suffered any ill-will toward my action). We also decided to eat lunch at that time since the restaurant was in close proximity to the renowned "Old Faithful," and being so close, had ample time to finish our food before it again blew its steam skyward. Lunch arrived soon following our order, yet time began to drift away as Mom delved into her mountainous chef's salad. It was obvious that we would miss the eruption of Old Faithful if direct action was not taken; Dad and I said "good-bye" to Mom and dashed on to the extensive patio where other visitors were gathering. Eyes were riveted on the strangely steaming mound; a few men checked their wrist-watches, as if doubtful of the geyser's punctuality. No one was disappointed. Exactly one hour after its last appearance, a mad bubbling issued from the previously silent pit and multiplied its violent surges until frothing liquid shot into the sky. People oohed and ahhed and pointed fingers. Cameras clicked furiously.
When the show was over, the crowd disbursed and Dad and I returned to the restaurant to fetch Mom. Fifteen minutes had elapsed; she would probably be waiting at an empty table, nursing her glass of water to alleviate boredom and nervousness. We turned into the restaurant and couldn't believe our eyes. There was Mom, still poised over a fair amount of salad, eating diligently; "the salad wouldn't leave," I thought. At least she wasn't bored during our absence.
Mom eventually finished her salad and we resumed our sightseeing. Yellowstone Park was an intermingling of beauty and oddity, and as a result I used a fair amount of film. The animals, though wild, were close at hand and I was able to see buffalo and elk to my fulfillment. After two days we left the park and headed into Montana and Washington, stopping to see the Grand Coulee Dam for my dad's benefit. I was not impressed and did not care to linger over the massive system of water retention, yet the trip was not entirely my own and I therefore tried to suppress my disinterest.