此内容暂无简体中文译文,以下为英文原文。
Historical September 1995 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
I’ve just come back from being on week-long vacation with Rush Limbaugh. Actually, despite our vast philosophical differences, I found that Rush isn’t a bad guy.
To like him, though, you have to ignore both his politics and his insufferable ego, which is a bit larger than the old Arena.
He always interesting and is generally in a pretty good mood. “Jovial” is the word that comes to mind to describe him, but I’m not sure how much of my perception is influenced by his girth.
After all, have you ever heard a thin person described as “jovial”? Actually, I really wasn’t on vacation with Rush, although it felt like I was. You see, I went to Mt. Rushmore and Devil’s Tower, in South Dakota and Wyoming, respectively. And, get this, I DROVE there, mile after mile, hour after hour.
Now I know why jet travel is so in demand. Despite the fact that I had several “books on tape, ” courtesy of the Charing Cross library branch, I wound up spending an incredible amount of time listening to the talk shows on the AM radio. Me & Rush.
The drive was a long one, 1, 000 to 1, 200 miles each way.
I offer a range of miles because I got lost several times, each way, so I really don’t know how far it is if you were to follow the MA map. Sure, I had AM maps, but I’ve always believed that using maps is for wimps. I’m a man’s man; I can figure out where to go just by looking at the road signs and moss on the trees. You know, “red sky in morning means sailors warning; blue sky at night means no motel in sight and all that.
I only got lost three times, not counting once when I’m sure, absolutely positive, that the road sign was incorrectly written. Those sojoums cost me some miles, I know. So Rush and I drove together across the Badlands of South Dakota. Maybe the reason why Rush doesn’t seem so bad is that G. Gordon Liddy — G. Gordon Liddy of Watergate fame — and I drove together up through Nebraska.
Now you talk about a wacko; Liddy makes Umbaugh seem almost moderate.
I guess the fact that Liddy has a radio talk-show goes to prove that there’s no level to which we won’t stoop as long as the ratings are good. What’s next, Charles Manson hosting “at your service’? Mt. Rushmore was really quite spectacular.
I am often proud to be an American and I was when I was there. I’m proudest not on the big occasions, like when we return successfully from a space mission. Those times are nice, but seem, somehow, removed from me.
I am touched, though, by the little things that Americans do, the ways we try to reach out to one another in times of need and the fact that it is possible for anyone to be just about anything. That sounds like rhetoric, I know, but it’s true. Something happened at Mt. Rushmore that touched me and brought tears to my eyes.
I fast visited there in the afternoon, and was overwhelmed by the scope and magnitude of the monument.
The U.S. Park Service has a viewing site established, so you can’t get more than thousands of feet from the mountain.
But still, the sculptures are so big that it’s almost as if you can touch Washington, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, and Lincoln.
The whole atmosphere is quite festive and there’s even a gift shop that made me feel like I was in DisneyWorld. Yep, I brought back a t-shirt, three magnets, a bottle opener, and two coffee cups, all featuring Mt. Rushmore. Seeing the monument, these hundreds of feet tall faces, I couldn’t help but be struck by the vision that caused a man to be bold enough to by to reshape a mountain. Realizing that the project took decades to complete, that 90% of the granite taken away to create the faces was removed by dynamite blasting, and understanding that the facade will still be here thousands and thousands of years was quite moving.
But that’s not what touched my pride and my heart.
I noticed a sign indicating evening lightings of the mountain, at 9:30 p.m., and decided to come back later to see one.
I returned at about 8 p.m. and wasn’t a bit too early.
There were already quite a few people there waiting for the lighting ceremony.
Some had brought dinners, while others, like me, had brought a book to help pass the time.
As the sunlight began to fade, more and more spectators poured into the viewing area and it became quite crowded. By 9:15, there were hundreds and hundreds of people everywhere imaginable: sitting on benches, but also sitting on ledges and rocks, leaning against buildings, and standing together.
The people represented what’s wonderful and rich about America.
It was a marvelous assortment.
They were of all colors, all sizes, and every variety in between.
Some were dressed quite nicely; others looked like they had come from the pool or directly from the van.
There were kids being held by their parents and people in their 80’s, holding one another.
I talked to people from California, North Carolina, Illinois, Texas, and New York. More people entered. Despite the increasingly large size of the crowd, it was remarkably quiet.
There was more than just a sense of anticipation; I felt a feeling of resped. People whispered, but there was little talking and no yelling. Even the young children were a bit subdued.
It grew darker and darker. Far below us, at least a hundred feet away, there was another group of people also waiting for the lighting of the mountain.
They were seated in an amphitheater below the Visitors Center, hearing a Park Ranger’s presentation about the monument.
He was using a loudspeaker and the sound of his voice would periodically waft our way so that I could sort of make out what he was saying. By 9:20 p.m.. it was quite dark and the crowd below was applauding something the Ranger had said.
Then it happened.
The sound of the ‘The Star Spangled-Banner” began playing over the intercom. Without a word, every man in the audience who was wearing a hat or cap removed it and placed it on his chest. At the same time the powerful search lights began to gently shine on the four presidents’ faces, the illumination increasing with each moment. Soon the faces were brightly lit against the blackness of the rest of the mountain and the dark blue sky. ‘The Star SpangledBanner” was followed by “America the Beautiful.” The crowd remained silent, fixated on the mountain.
I looked around at the people standing by me and realized how very precious this moment was.
It wasn’t special because of the presidents or the sculptured mountain or the way the tight shined on them. Those things were impressive, but what was special was the coming together of people standing around me, all unique, of different races, and, seemingly, different income levels, religions, and cultures. Despite these differences, we were all standing together, in respect and appreciation for what was represented by that mountain, the freedom and opportunity that this nation offers all of us.
I wiped my eyes and was very glad that I had come.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, September 1995.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1995_09.pdf, printed page(s) 8, 7; PDF page(s) 7, 6.
往期内容
In Your Ear — Mount Rushmore(英文)
1995年9月
此内容暂无简体中文译文,以下为英文原文。
Historical September 1995 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
I’ve just come back from being on week-long vacation with Rush Limbaugh. Actually, despite our vast philosophical differences, I found that Rush isn’t a bad guy.
To like him, though, you have to ignore both his politics and his insufferable ego, which is a bit larger than the old Arena.
He always interesting and is generally in a pretty good mood. “Jovial” is the word that comes to mind to describe him, but I’m not sure how much of my perception is influenced by his girth.
After all, have you ever heard a thin person described as “jovial”? Actually, I really wasn’t on vacation with Rush, although it felt like I was. You see, I went to Mt. Rushmore and Devil’s Tower, in South Dakota and Wyoming, respectively. And, get this, I DROVE there, mile after mile, hour after hour.
Now I know why jet travel is so in demand. Despite the fact that I had several “books on tape, ” courtesy of the Charing Cross library branch, I wound up spending an incredible amount of time listening to the talk shows on the AM radio. Me & Rush.
The drive was a long one, 1, 000 to 1, 200 miles each way.
I offer a range of miles because I got lost several times, each way, so I really don’t know how far it is if you were to follow the MA map. Sure, I had AM maps, but I’ve always believed that using maps is for wimps. I’m a man’s man; I can figure out where to go just by looking at the road signs and moss on the trees. You know, “red sky in morning means sailors warning; blue sky at night means no motel in sight and all that.
I only got lost three times, not counting once when I’m sure, absolutely positive, that the road sign was incorrectly written. Those sojoums cost me some miles, I know. So Rush and I drove together across the Badlands of South Dakota. Maybe the reason why Rush doesn’t seem so bad is that G. Gordon Liddy — G. Gordon Liddy of Watergate fame — and I drove together up through Nebraska.
Now you talk about a wacko; Liddy makes Umbaugh seem almost moderate.
I guess the fact that Liddy has a radio talk-show goes to prove that there’s no level to which we won’t stoop as long as the ratings are good. What’s next, Charles Manson hosting “at your service’? Mt. Rushmore was really quite spectacular.
I am often proud to be an American and I was when I was there. I’m proudest not on the big occasions, like when we return successfully from a space mission. Those times are nice, but seem, somehow, removed from me.
I am touched, though, by the little things that Americans do, the ways we try to reach out to one another in times of need and the fact that it is possible for anyone to be just about anything. That sounds like rhetoric, I know, but it’s true. Something happened at Mt. Rushmore that touched me and brought tears to my eyes.
I fast visited there in the afternoon, and was overwhelmed by the scope and magnitude of the monument.
The U.S. Park Service has a viewing site established, so you can’t get more than thousands of feet from the mountain.
But still, the sculptures are so big that it’s almost as if you can touch Washington, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, and Lincoln.
The whole atmosphere is quite festive and there’s even a gift shop that made me feel like I was in DisneyWorld. Yep, I brought back a t-shirt, three magnets, a bottle opener, and two coffee cups, all featuring Mt. Rushmore. Seeing the monument, these hundreds of feet tall faces, I couldn’t help but be struck by the vision that caused a man to be bold enough to by to reshape a mountain. Realizing that the project took decades to complete, that 90% of the granite taken away to create the faces was removed by dynamite blasting, and understanding that the facade will still be here thousands and thousands of years was quite moving.
But that’s not what touched my pride and my heart.
I noticed a sign indicating evening lightings of the mountain, at 9:30 p.m., and decided to come back later to see one.
I returned at about 8 p.m. and wasn’t a bit too early.
There were already quite a few people there waiting for the lighting ceremony.
Some had brought dinners, while others, like me, had brought a book to help pass the time.
As the sunlight began to fade, more and more spectators poured into the viewing area and it became quite crowded. By 9:15, there were hundreds and hundreds of people everywhere imaginable: sitting on benches, but also sitting on ledges and rocks, leaning against buildings, and standing together.
The people represented what’s wonderful and rich about America.
It was a marvelous assortment.
They were of all colors, all sizes, and every variety in between.
Some were dressed quite nicely; others looked like they had come from the pool or directly from the van.
There were kids being held by their parents and people in their 80’s, holding one another.
I talked to people from California, North Carolina, Illinois, Texas, and New York. More people entered. Despite the increasingly large size of the crowd, it was remarkably quiet.
There was more than just a sense of anticipation; I felt a feeling of resped. People whispered, but there was little talking and no yelling. Even the young children were a bit subdued.
It grew darker and darker. Far below us, at least a hundred feet away, there was another group of people also waiting for the lighting of the mountain.
They were seated in an amphitheater below the Visitors Center, hearing a Park Ranger’s presentation about the monument.
He was using a loudspeaker and the sound of his voice would periodically waft our way so that I could sort of make out what he was saying. By 9:20 p.m.. it was quite dark and the crowd below was applauding something the Ranger had said.
Then it happened.
The sound of the ‘The Star Spangled-Banner” began playing over the intercom. Without a word, every man in the audience who was wearing a hat or cap removed it and placed it on his chest. At the same time the powerful search lights began to gently shine on the four presidents’ faces, the illumination increasing with each moment. Soon the faces were brightly lit against the blackness of the rest of the mountain and the dark blue sky. ‘The Star SpangledBanner” was followed by “America the Beautiful.” The crowd remained silent, fixated on the mountain.
I looked around at the people standing by me and realized how very precious this moment was.
It wasn’t special because of the presidents or the sculptured mountain or the way the tight shined on them. Those things were impressive, but what was special was the coming together of people standing around me, all unique, of different races, and, seemingly, different income levels, religions, and cultures. Despite these differences, we were all standing together, in respect and appreciation for what was represented by that mountain, the freedom and opportunity that this nation offers all of us.
I wiped my eyes and was very glad that I had come.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, September 1995.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1995_09.pdf, printed page(s) 8, 7; PDF page(s) 7, 6.
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