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I can remember as a child every summer, either camping at Sugarloaf campgrounds or taking day trips to Echo Lake. I can remember the road through Franconia Notch before they extended Rt. 93. I will always remember driving through the Notch, on our way to either the campgrounds, or the lake. Once Profile Lake would come into view, my father would look back at my older brother and I in the rear view mirror, and say "Get ready to wave hi to the'Old Man'." It was so exciting. It was like being welcomed to my favorite part of the state by a family member or friend. As he came into view we would, both of us, crowd the window to watch this stoic magnificent face form out of the mountain. We would waive and smile like fools. When we were done with our camping, fishing or swimming it was the same ritual going home. My father would look back at us in the mirror and tell us to "Get ready to say goodbye to the 'Old Man' ." We would crowd the other side of the window, a little sad saying goodbye until next time, or next summer. As we drove past him, we would follow his disappearance through the rear window, until he was gone.
Looking back now, he wasn't gone. He'll never be gone. He was the 'Old Man of the Mountain' watching over our beloved White Mountains. Keeping us safe and secure, and guided. If you lost your way, look up until you saw the 'Old Man.' From there everyone knew which way to go. I have a four-year old son. His first summer before he was one, my mother and I vacationed in the mountains, and my boy got to see the 'Old Man.' He didn't know and didn't care then what he was looking at but it was tradition, as I'm sure it was in most families, to show your children and grandchildren this wonderful natural Gate Keeper to the mountains. Well, the next year the Man fell. I am heartbroken that I will never be able to share him with my son. Drive by and tell him to wave. Admire him and look up to him. My heart was so broken when I read the article in the Nashua Telegraph. I felt like I was reading the obituary of my father, my best friend.
Though he is physically gone, he will never be spiritually gone. It breaks my heart to stop at the lookout for the Old Man, and not see him. But in my mind he is there. Majestic and awesome and looking out, protecting all who [enter] his realm. I will never forget my summers as a child. And I will never forget what he meant to me.
Jennifer Rix, Nashua, NH
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How sad that the old man fell down. As a descendent of Daniel Webster, hearing stories from my dad about he being his great, great, great uncle, (mine and my five sibling's great great great-uncle), the old man has always had a special place in our hearts. My grandmother was a Batcheldor by birth and her great great aunt was married to Daniel Webster. The last time I saw the "old man alive" was in 1988 just one year after the passing of my father. Fare thee well old man.
John Stacy, Union City, Ohio
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[Below is] my poem about the loss of a part of our New Hampshire identity. Thank you for hosting the site and the wonderful Scrapbook which is, itself, a piece of our State history.
Sincerely, Maryanne Jensen-Gowan, Pelham, NH
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Fallen Man
How would Daniel Webster explain this mess?
The falling face of God's humanity?
The stony strength belied fragility.
Reminder of a shattered human-ness.
The contours of the Conway granite face;
The jaw line resolute; the tired eyes;
Some fault, occasioned when the world was ice
Proved your undoing and your flight from grace.
If Webster's right - you're some advertisement
That God made Man, and weathered him with faults
Then such is confirmation that we're dust
Suspended between earth and firmament. |
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