The movie Smoke Signals brought memories back to me, of a road trip to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, taken many years ago, when my husband and I had far fewer responsibilities then we do today. My husband grew up in Buffalo, New York, and his summers were spent, like most of his friends, at summer camps in the Adirondacks. I, on the other hand, grew up in Tucson, Arizona, and my summers were filled with camping and hiking trips to the Grand Canyon. It was at the north rim of the Grand Canyon that I first began to understand the magic and mysticism that surrounds us in our natural world. I wanted to share this world with my husband, but being a practical man, his only comment was, "Why do I want to go look at a big fucking hole in the ground?"
"Because," I explained, "it’s the coolest, biggest, most magical, mystical, 'effing' hole in the ground you’ll ever see."
He still wasn’t convinced, but that was about to change. We left on a cool, mid-September day heading southeast out of Vancouver, Washington, for a vist with, as my husband called it, "That big effing hole in the ground." He’d given up the more vulgar term after I stomped on his foot. Three days of driving brought us to the rim of the canyon and I wanted to make the most of the few days we had to spend there. I made him park his backside in a chair by the rim, ran and brought him a drink from the bar at the lodge, and said, "Sit and watch the sun go down on the canyon wall, and if you still think it’s still just an 'effing' hole in the ground, I’ll throw myself over."
He gave me one of his smug, "You ain’t gonna win this one, Baby" looks and proceeded to stare very hard at the far canyon wall as the sun began its descent towards the western horizon. Various hues of soft purple, sea green, and delicate pink began to shadow the far canyon wall, slowly darkening to the deeper shades of blackish purple, emerald green, and fire red, as the last lingering shafts of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon. Night had fallen and the cool air of the canyon rose up to great us as the bats began their nightly flight and the stars began to shine in a brilliant display of light, so that the heavens looked to be more stars than black sky.
Still, my husband said nothing. Slowly, he turned in the darkness. I could see his eyes shining, and he said, "You know, it’s still just a big effing hole in the ground." My heart sank. I was doomed to throw myself over the edge of the canyon. "But" he said, "it’s the greatest effing hole in the ground I’ve ever seen."