Day 6

This morning, after a much-needed night of sleep, we wake around 7:00am and start discussing our plans for Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse today. The boys are super excited about seeing Mount Rushmore, and Bennie is already discussing what he wants to buy at the gift shop with the 40.00 his grandfather, Husser, gave him. Bennie wants a mini sculpture of Mount Rushmore, and he wants it BAD! After breakfast and organizing, we decide we need jeans, sneakers and warm jackets because it is cold, rainy, and damp. Throughout the night I listened to my favorite thing: the quiet tapping of the rain on the roof of the camper. I don't like to lie in bed much and I am not a great sleeper, but when I hear the gentle tapping of the rain, I could lie in bed all day. We dress, pile excitedly into the truck and head up the rugged and pine-laden mountain known as Mount Rushmore. As we ascend the Black Hills, we read signs around us that point us to Horsethief Lake, the fictional scene in National Treasure 2. Other signs point us to Black Hills Forrests Trails and we see people riding horses, despite the misty precipitation that marks our windows and our view. As we rise into the Black Hills, we are immediately overwhelmed by the absolute grayness of the rock as it is surrounded by fog and the dark, dark pine trees that, no doubt, give the Black Hills their nomenclature. These mountains are so vastly different from the Blue Mountain in Pennsylvania, and I am instantly reminded how far from home I really am. As we pull into the Profile View (which is just that, a glimpse of just the profile of George Washington) we figure we are 1800 miles from Tamaqua, PA and the surrounding landscape denotes this. We pull into the Profile View and search, and oh my God, THERE HE IS! Washington's profile prominently projects from the side of a beautiful mountain and vapors cloud his serious expression. We are speechless. All our lives we have seen this image on television, in movies, in travel magazines, but we are here. We are really here experiencing this in person! It seems so unlikely and unreal, and Ben and I stare at his majestic face in wonderment and appreciation. How fortunate am I? How lucky are our boys?

We can hardly pull ourselves away from the rustic, granite view, but we must if we want to see all four of the presidents. Ben and I keep staring, but the boys have already jumped into the car and are bellowing, "Mom, Dad...Come on! Come on! Mom! Pleazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" Another hooded tourist looks at us and says, "I think they're ready!" and laughs at our sons. We just have to make it to the entrance so that we can pay our 10.00 fee, which is good for a year, and enter. As we make the curve toward the entrance and the visitor's center, Ben yells, "There it is boys! There it is!" They are both so excited that they begin screaming and yelling and giggling. I whip my head around and I take in the big four as they regally jut out from their hard, smooth surfaces and instantaneously demand the respect millions have given them over the years. The rain has caused tear-like streaks and dark marks on the faces of Rushmore Four. The boys can barely contain themselves and Bennie continually asks me if I am sure there will be a gift shop. I tell him, "Son, I am only sure of a few things in this world, and the existence of a gift shop at Mount Rushmore is one of them." He gathers his money, the video camera, his disposable camera, and he jumps out of the car. Ethan is nonstop talking and I stopped paying attention to his run on sentences about five minutes ago. It is at this time that Ben finally has cell phone service, so he realizes he has missed many calls and decides to listen to his voicemail. The boys are biting at the bit, it is freezing, but I know he has to take the calls. Turns out he sold a home! Wonderful. We celebrate with Rushmore! As we leave the parking garage and climb the stairs, all four of us are mezmerized by the presidential view in front of and above us. We keep stopping for pics and Ben's phone keeps ringing. I think of the number of times I have thought of coming here and imagining this very moment. The boys skip and run, Bennie interviews Ethan with his video camera, and I take some great shots of the boys and Ben. As we get closer, I snap another pic and my batteries go dead! What!?! They are rechargable ones, so now I must go to the gift shop and pay 100.00 for batteries! When I say "gift shop", Bennie just about bursts with enthusiasm, and we enter. Bennie says, "Mom, you were right." Magic to my ears. I hear it so seldomly. The gift shop is buzzing with activity and I have to be extra vigilant in keeping my eye on the boys. They are like heat seeking missiles, honing in on the booty they want to bring back with them, and I cannot seem to find batteries. Ben searches the store for me, finds them, and I am busy helping the boys find the things they have been dreaming about. Eureka! Bennie finds the mini sculpture and he keeps running his hands over its smooth surface and saying, "I am so glad they have one of these." Ethan falls in love with it as well, but hopes there is an 18 wheeler truck model with Rushmore on it. I tell him it is doubtful, so he touches every single thing they have in the store, twice. We finally leave with hats, t-shirts, magnets, post cards, and all the other cliche items you would imagine. Just insert them here:________. One hundred and forty dollars later, we emerge into the fresh air, the misty rain, and the gaze of the Rushmore Four. We walk closer and closer and take lots of pics. I cannot take my eyes off it. I feel like I did when I saw the Capital in Washington D.C. for the first time when I was 10 or the Lincoln Memorial again when I was 41. We talk to some people from Nebraska and decide to enter the museum downstairs. The rangers are helpful and friendly, and we look at models, read descriptions of the history of the monument, and I tell the boys to call their Nana from Mount Rushmore. Inside, the boys get to pretend they are blowing up a piece of Rushmore as they select the explosion they want to denote on a tv screen and then actually push down, with both hands, on a t-bar dynamite detonator. Ethan loves it so much that he wants to do it again and again, despite the fact that there is a line of kids behind him anxiously waiting for their turn.

After spending time in the museum, we decide it is time to leave and get some lunch. We stare at the monument again and again, and as we depart, the fog sets in and partially hides the monument. It seems we came at the right time. We jump in the truck, head for our campground, a very UPSCALE KOA, (80.00 a night) and have lunch at the restaurant. After we have eaten we go to the KOA office and I purchase some very awesome scrapbooking supplies. We are finally warm and satisfied, so I suggest we go to the Crazy Horse Monument and take in the sites.

C-R-A-Z-Y-H-O-R-S-E. What an interesting story. What dedication. What a noble pursuit. The story of Crazy Horse Monument is inspiring and worth spreading. You can read about it at http://www.crazyhorsememorial.org/

As we approach, after following signs, we are searching the mountains and the sky for some sign of it, any glimpse of it. Suddenly, we see it, but it takes another five minutes for Ethan to see it:) The boys are less enthused about this because they know nothing about it, but that is about to change after we watch the movie in Theater 2. Crazy Horse Monument does not take any federal funds to continue with their titanic pursuit, so that explains the 27.00 admission fee for our car. We gladly give it. We must be easily a mile or two from the monument, but it is so large, it is easily seen. So far, they have only completed his face, which is 3D but they have so far to go. If they continue at this rate, it will not be completed in my lifetime. CrazyHorse stares off, with a piercing countenance, into the Black Hills of South Dakota. He will eventually be pointing toward his land, which is where his people are buried. Heavy earthmoving equipment and fences can be seen in front of him, and there is a white chalk-like tracing of a horse's eye and ear below him. The final product is supposed to be very elaborate and it will lookover and protect a university and a medical center. It is more than a daunting task, and many of the sculptor's 10 children still work on it and dedicate their lives to it, along with his wife. After spending an hour there, looking up at the haunting monument, we decide to head back to the camper for some much needed R and R. The day is not over, as we will be returning to Mount Rushmore in the evening to take in the "Lighting Ceremony." I cannot wait. I know it will be emotional. During our visit to Washington D.C. in October, I must have cried 30 times, and I think that will probably happen to me this evening. Ben is used to me and Ethan just shakes his head and says, "I hope those are tears of joy, Mom." I will update you later about the lighting ceremony and include some pictures. For now, I remain a very humbled and grateful blogger.

Just before dinner this evening, I had one of those terrible moments that is heartstopping and nerve wracking. I could not find my kids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1700 miles away from home and Ben says to me, where are the kids? I was in the camper and he was outside, so I assumed they were with him. He predicts that they went over to the camp store, so I literally sprouted wings and flew there. NO KIDS! My heart is beating fast and the anxiety inside of me is spreading and rapidly increasing my breathing and heart rate. I feel like I may pass out. Where could they be? I start yelling to Ben that they are not in the store, and he immediately hops in the pick up truck and begins riding around the campground to search for Bennie and Ethan. I am yelling their names and thinking, "Oh my God. Oh my God! They are here. Calm down. They are here. There is some explanation. Please no." As I look down one of the campground roads, I see someone in a white t-shirt running toward a road. I realize it is Bennie. Of course, he and Ethan are absolutely oblivious to my feelings of panic and sheer terror. "What Mom? What's wrong? What?" My voice is bellowing, "You do not just take off like this! You don't do this!" Ethan is giggling and laughing, but Bennie sees the fear in my eyes and knows the serious tone of my voice. "Sorry, Mom. We were just swinging." I put their coats on, hug them (even though I feel like shaking them) and we head back to the camper for grilled chicken and salad. They are filled with excitement and joy and, of course, they live in a different world than I do. Their world is filled with friendly people. My world is filled with strangers with bad intentions who have fast cars.

After dinner, we head back up into the Black Hills to take in the lighting ceremony. As we arrive to the admission gate, the attendant asks for our parking pass that we received earlier. She tells us that we have an Indiana registered parking pass, and we tell her we are from PA. She says, there is a PA pass sitting here for a Dodge Dakota. This must be you! It is so cold and damp that it cuts through me, but, of course, the boys don't seem to ever mind temperature. They wanted to swim in the campground pool! We head toward the mountain that is the home to the presidents and we find a seat on the bleachers of the enormous outdoor theater that faces Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln. Their faces have dried from our earlier storm, but Washington still has a very thick dark tear streek down his right cheek. Bennie is videotaping every moment of it and explaining things to Ethan, who doesn't quite understand time, history, and his place in it. At 9:00 a park ranger takes the stage and introduced a Boy Scout troop from Lincoln, Nebraska. They will be taking down the flag at the end of the ceremony this evening. The ranger discusses the theme of hardship and how it is prevelant in American history and in the lives of the presidents behind and above her. After her excellent speech, which discusses the trials and tribulation that each of the presidents overcame along with the emphasis on the fact that they were all great readers (at this point I give Bennie that See-you-have-to-read-look) and he mouths to me, "Ok...I know Mom...I know!") we are treated to a very patriotic movie on a huge screen about the presidents and American values and ideals. The boys are very entertained by it, but Ethan is just killing me and I am trying not to laugh out loud during this solemn, moving presentation. When the movie would depict Washington, Ethan would say, "Oh..he looks young and has a deep voice. I wonder if he knew the camera was there." Another time during the movie, Washington is depicted looking out a window. This shot is followed by his image on Mount Rushmore. Ethan looks all around us and says, "Where is the house that Washington is looking out of at his face on Rushmore." This just aggravates and infuriates Bennie. He stops his videotaping and tries to explain to Ethan that this movie is filled with actors who are playing the presidents. He continues that there were no cameras during Washington's life. Ethan says, "Oh." When the movie moved on the Jefferson and a narrator read Jefferson's famous words, Ethan says, "Oh so that is what his voice sounded like." Bennie's grimace could light up our dark surroundings. "No! That is a man playing Jefferson. Don't you get it?" Ethan doesn't. I look over at them and I am in love:)

As the movie draws to a close and a beautiful voice sings "America the Beautiful" a very dim light appears on the faces on the mountain and slowly brightens on them. The crowd is quiet and respectful. As the light grows brighter and brighter, I feel the tears building slowly in my eyes, and Ethan whispers, lovingly, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Mom!" I give him a hug and listen to Bennie whispering into his video camera as he narrates what he sees. Now with the presidents lit and the movie over, the park ranger returns to the stage and asks the Boy Scouts to join her. She then asks for any and all members of the audience who have ever served in the military to join her on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, we were all the same. Audience members seated, watching a presentation. Suddenly, people begin to rise and descend the ampitheater steps. I am amazed at how many of us have served our country. The ranger helps them to take their place on the stage, the Boy Scouts lower the flag and fold it, and the ranger passes it among the veterans and each one touches it and holds it in his or her hands. I am moved. My children are quiet and respectful, and Bennie instructs Ethan to remove his hat.

As the ceremony closes, I can hardly feel my hand and feet, and event though I am anticipating he warmth of our truck, we walk up the stairs slowly, each of looking back often as if to take in the mountain as much as we can. Ethan tells me that when he becomes a history teacher he will bring his class here. Each day Ethan is going to be whatever his brother is going to be. We stop for a few last pics with the lit presidents behind it and call it a night. What a wonderfully, memorable day filled with happiness and pride. If we had to go home now, I would feel complete.