Old Age Day by Day May 26,2010

A friend sent photos of his trip to the Grand Canyon, where he, two friends and his daughter hiked down to the river and back up. The canyon really is a wonder of the world, and I've loved it every time I've been. I'm a coward, so I've never actually been down very far, but I admire those who can handle the windy, steep trails. My parents took me as a child several times. One time it was winter and we stayed at a cabin on the North Rim. Now it is closed in winter but in those days you could visit. As we were driving to the place where we were going to stay (it was night, of course, because my father always drove too long - long enough we'd be starved and grumpy before we arrived) it was deep snow on either side and icy. The car in front of us swerved to avoid a deer leaping across the road and spun several times 360 o. My father braked and my brother and I were flung around like rag dolls and all the stuff in the recess of the back window came down on our heads. Somehow, we didn't hit the other car. The next morning, as we walked to the dining hall for breakfast, we saw the car, a navy blue ford, with blood on the hood.

My husband and I camped a week on the North Rim many years later, and I couldn't look over the edge without vertigo, so I kept our younger son, a toddler at the time, strapped like Houdini practically with chains and padlocks in his stroller, well away from the edge, while my husband and our two older kids walked out on lookouts and leaned way over. I had to talk myself down from hysteria every single time. Never mind, I loved the place. It was worth the anxiety. I've been by train in the winter to the South Rim, and other times by car. The North Rim is more beautiful, but the canyon is knockout however you see it.

I sent my friend's photos to my younger daughter, because she was born late enough she missed the camping trips, and our last visit she was elsewhere. She needs to see it. For me, it's a reminder of how beautiful our country is, and how new. The history of the canyon makes human history paltry. If we get too big for our britches, a glance at the canyon humbles us. The earth is vast and enduring, and it's greatest beauties have nothing to do with us. We only witness them.