No Rush for Mount Rushmore

“I do what I want!”, my husband talked back after I rebuked him for putting his finger inside Borglum’s nose. I had no other options but to take his picture doing the act. I just couldn’t help but sigh. I thought he’s an American so he’s probably an exception.

What’s so important with Borglum that I feel a sense of respect for him?

We couldn’t hide our excitement. Green trees and rocky cliffs were looking blurred with our speed driving in South Dakota. In my seat, I was busy looking diligently for the gigantic faces of the four prominent figures in American history. The faces of Mr. Washington, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Lincoln carved on the granite rocks of Black Hill that was now few kilometers away.

The place I only saw on magazine or television was finally closer. I giggled like a little kid given a candy. When we reached the entrance, there were stops where you can purchase tickets to get in. We drove towards the ticket booth, but no one was there. So we decided to drive around until we saw a parking lot. There, we left the car and walked up the stairs. Long story short, we got in for free.

It was cold that day. I was grateful to be wearing the thick white knitted jacket my mother-in-law gave me. If I didn’t have it, I would have frozen to death.

At the park, I spotted this weird guy, who was trying to climb through the barricade. It seemed there was a construction going on. We walked to the right side where we could clearly see the monument. People from different countries were there, capturing delightful moments that would later be displayed on social media. I couldn’t understand how these tourists can shamelessly strike wacky poses in front of absolute strangers. For instance, one guy that looked like he’s from Middle East raised his two arms in the air and smiled like no tomorrow while his friends cheeringly took pictures of him. On the other side, a woman was posing like a model, oblivious of the fact that she’s in a public space not in a photoshoot session for a magazine. Even though I found it weird, within me wished to have her confidence. We didn’t bother to join the tourists, we just took photos here and there. A woman came to us asking if we needed someone to hold the camera. We politely declined. I felt sorry for her, however, we can’t entrust anything valuable like our phones to strangers. What if she’s a thief in disguise and ran away with our phones? Don’t get me wrong, we just didn’t want troubles. To get away from her, we intentionally skipped to the monument of the artist who created the 60-foot sculpture. We stayed a little longer and left.

That day, I learned that Gutzon Borglum died in March 1941 just before the project was finished. His son, Lincoln Borglum, resumed the construction until forced to end in October of the same year due to lack of funding. Leaving the depiction of each president from head to shoulder instead of the original idea that is from head to waist. This fact intrigued me to search more information about Mt. Rushmore: its history and controversy.

To witness something as legendary an artwork as the Mt. Rushmore was a memory I will forever cherish. Even though it seemed it might have been rushed in construction, to me it still did look perfect.