Old Faithful Inn
By Jean Southworth
June 2003
Somehow
it channels the Titanic and the elegance of a bygone era.
Vacationers gaping. Lights twinkling. Piano keys plinking.
Yet no sea-sickness or disasters lurk aboard this century-old structure,
Old Faithful Inn.
Three years ago, we visited
Yellowstone’s Old Faithful as part of our whirlwind family “Heritage
Tour” of places our grandparents lived and loved. We saw folks
on cabin porches, sitting, doing little else. We wanted that.
Today we have our own stay of days at an Old Faithful cabin; we’ve
hardly left the area.
Last night I lay
claim to mission rockers in a corner of the Inn lobby and began my
long-awaited journey with Stephen Ambrose and his “Undaunted
Courage” account of Lewis and Clark. It seemed appropriate for
this place. Tonight, Jim and Annie play “Palace” on an antique
illuminated card table on the second floor balcony while I sink into a
cushy armchair on the main level. The chair doesn’t rock but
makes up for it geographically: I can see just about everything.
The scale, extravagance, and bustle of this log cabin interior demand my
full attention. Surely, my book will keep a while.
Upstairs the
piano sings Fur Elise, then Chopin’s Nocturne. Eventually, a
violin joins in. They play “What Child Is This?” Today
is June 20th. I am enchanted.
Late arrivals
pull bags inside and stare upwards. A young man motors his
I set my book on
the floor. This is better than television.
I spot a
middle-aged man wearing a red t-shirt bearing the words, “Bauer Family
Roadtrip 2003.” (Why didn’t I think of that for the Heritage
Tour, I wonder?) Once I take notice, these red-t-shirts are
everywhere. A teenage boy covers his with a less conspicuous
sweatshirt. Wheelchair Grandma spins by again; she wears one
beneath her white cardigan and black lap blanket.
A family poses
nearby, unencumbered by wheels or matching clothing. They have
three cameras, infinite group combinations, and unsurpassed photo
opportunities. The mom and teenage daughter laugh and tango to the
Christmas music. They are unembarrassed. My heart warms for
my Annie upstairs: that is us. Pretty soon the family looks
for a willing photographer to shoot them all together. I
volunteer—this is right up my alley, and besides, I have been enjoying
their show. As I snap the pictures (on rotating cameras) someone
taps my shoulder. Would I like to get in the photo, too? I
consider it.
Outside the geyser’s
set to erupt again at any moment, but I’ve already witnessed it
multiple times, hanging out in the neighborhood so much. Instead,
I’m ready for a hot shower and a date with Meriwether Lewis. Jim
walks me back to our Snow Lodge Cabin, but he and Annie can’t seem to
leave the Inn lobby quite yet this evening. I understand.