Reposted from Fusion’s Daily Dose:
When I was a little kid, I would run away from home on a regular basis. No one really worried about me, likely because growing up in rural North Dakota meant there was nowhere to run to.
I would declare my intentions, pack a lunch and stroll down the long gravel driveway, stopping to take bites out of my PB & J as I went.
I had a destination in mind.
Even the middle of nowhere is somewhere to someone… especially when it means getting away from everyone.
I would walk to Big Rock. Big Rock was a big rock in the ditch. (Hey, I was a kid and I called ‘em as I saw ‘em.) It was a quiet place to escape to – and to plot revenge from – a place to think about things, and to eat a sandwich, if there was any sandwich left by the time I got there.
One day, my mom called and told me that my rock was missing.
A literal touchstone of my youth, gone. In it’s place only a redundant crater in a ditch. My mom thought she spotted it in a memorial garden in my hometown, but I don’t want to find out if it’s really there. I like to remember it where it was. Big Rock still holds a big place in my memory.
Besides, I have a new Big Rock here in my adopted city. I remember a flash in the corner of my eye one day when I was driving along Portage Avenue near Assiniboine Park. That flash was the spark that alighted my obsession with Agassiz Ice.
I love the setting for this sculpture by Gordon Reeve, near the century-old park’s footbridge. I love how the piece accents its environment like a piece of jewelry – one that goes with everything, in every season’s wardrobe. It’s different every time I see it, from reflecting the pinkish hue of a summer sunrise to the gunmetal blue of a winter sky.
If the park is my church, Agassiz Ice is my altar.
What’s your Big Rock?