I was told yesterday that this has been one of the busiest weekends of the entire season at the Grill. I also learned this firsthand as I witnessed the perpetuation of an out-the-door line which continued from 12:30 to 4:30. I kid you not. This was four hours straight of grievously fire-hazardous crowds. We literally ran out of veggie burgers. Veggie burgers. And they said that Saturday was even worse.
But I wasn't there on Saturday. I was hanging out with my progenitors.
Things have been a little lonely around here lately, so when my parents showed up - presumably to make sure that I was still alive - I was delighted to take the day off. (Who am I to turn down the opportunity of having a vehicle at my mercy?) Of course, these plans had been in the works for several weeks and, admittedly, I was really looking forward to their visit. I haven't seen a familiar face all summer, so in order to keep the familiar faces close by, I designated myself as the official tour guide and packed their three-day trip with as much sightseeing as I possibly could. (Also, who am I to turn down the opportunity of having a vehicle at my mercy?)
And drive we did. As I've noted before, Yellowstone is an enormously large place. We saw just about all of it, plus the Grand Tetons. Dad said that he put close to 800 miles on the rental car in three days. Needless to say this was a tiring weekend - rivaling some of my more strenuous hiking treks.
Anyway, our journey started as soon as they arrived at Old Faithful. We exchanged greetings, checked them into their cabin, and hit the road. I took them up the eastern arm of the Grand Loop road, stopping to explore various places along the way. "Exploring" is, of course, much safer when Mom is around, but she put up with (I'm sure) more than her fair share, going out on several motherly ledges - so to speak.
We all, I think, agreed that of the two Grand Canyons we've seen this summer, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone is the prettier. But we didn't have time to linger around all day. We were on a schedule!
I found that over the course of the summer, my method of verbal communication has changed. I'm not entirely sure if it's for better or for worse, but it was noticeable in my conversations with my parents. Most of my conversations these days don't last any longer than five minutes, so it was odd to find myself talking with the same humans for hours at a time. It's funny how even the simplest things seem special after time spent without them.
As we drove, we slowly ascended into the lofty northeast corner of Yellowstone. Passing Mount Washburn, I was eternally grateful that I had decided to abandon its ascent the previous week, because I might not have been alive when my parents arrived. Driving up a mountain is much easier anyway, and it leaves you with enough energy to get in a good CrossFit endorsement.
Who needs a gym?
Cruising right along, we made it to our destination: Tower Falls. Looked at the falls, hiked two miles on the wrong trail, ate PB&J in the car, drove an hour and a half back to Old Faithful in the dark. It was a good first day.
The great thing about parents is that, while they never completely stop being your parents, they become less like parents and more like companions as time progresses. My dad often jokingly refers to himself as "Wise Sensei", and though his kids roll their eyes as they imagine him wearing a gown and a fu-manchu while sitting cross-legged in his dojo, we secretly admit that he holds more wisdom than we give him credit for. After all, it is we who ask the majority of the questions in the house - not him. And where I used to roll my eyes, I'm now eager to listen because soon I'll be needing to use that wisdom; and Dad won't be over in the living room waiting for me to ask him about it.
The next morning was an early one, finding us awake at 5:30 so that we could get to our destination at a good hour. I must admit, the Grand Tetons are much prettier than Yellowstone. Certainly Yellowstone comes out on top, thanks to its incredible diversity, but in a purely aesthetic sense one would be hard-pressed to find a more beautiful spot on the entire planet.
Great googly-moogly, I rest my case. But seriously, I think this picture is hanging somewhere in God's bedroom. I had really just wanted to see some moose*, but this... This is one of those places that you have to experience in order to believe it. I could tell this was going to be another good day. (*Zero moose were seen.)
Basically we hiked in this the whole morning, and I'm not even going to write about it because trying to describe it would be useless. So here's a picture of us:
The rest of the day was spent in and around Old Faithful. I'm actually considering renting out my parents to a travel agency, because it seemed like every time we passed a geyser, it erupted. We saw several geysers erupt that I've never seen before, affirming my longtime suspicion that my parents are magical.
Day three was - in true Paul Conover fashion - entirely made up on the spot. I knew we would go north, and that's about it. So, getting on the road with nothing else planned, we ended up at Mammoth Hot Springs. It's important to note that, over the course of three days, I heard Wise Sensei mutter "I just don't get it" more times than I've ever heard before. How did that rock get there? Why did those trees grow in the middle of that hot spring? What the heck's going on here?! ... They're the same questions that I've been asking all summer, and that scientists have been asking for more than a century. They're questions that we may never know the answers to - not even Wise Sensei.
After pondering the Mammoth Hot Springs for a while, we climbed a mountain. We had been thinking about climbing another, more mountainous mountain, but eventually decided that this less mountainous mountain would suffice (even though the less mountainous mountain was still quite mountainous in relation to the mountainous amounts of mountains that there are to mount). Regardless of which mountain we climbed, Mom was a hero. You see, Mom isn't a big fan of heights. She also isn't a big fan of the fact that her children are (literally and figuratively) living on the edges of cliffs. On top of that, she hadn't been feeling well that morning. Nevertheless, she willfully climbed the mountain. Bless her heart, when I went to take this picture...
...I'm fairly certain I could hear it pounding in her chest. We had been talking about personalities, and how mine has changed in the past few years. She said she was the type who would rather read stories about other people who do dangerous things. I said that I used to be like that, but that now I want to be the person writing the stories. So when she yelled that I wasn't to take a single more step out onto the cliff's edge, I asked her how she was planning on reading my stories if she didn't let me write them. As quick as any loving mother, she replied, "It'll be hard to write your stories if you're dead at the bottom of a cliff." I had to laugh, because it was then that I realized how strange this situation was. If you had told me four years ago that I would very soon climb a mountain in Yellowstone with my mom, well, you wouldn't have even thought to make up such a ridiculous story to tell me. Yet here we were, hiking up the side of Bunsen Peak, and it was perfectly natural. I have to commend my mother immensely for finding the strength to let me come out here. Her motherly instinct, I'm sure, was begging her to stuff me in a bag and haul me back to good ol' safe ol' Troy, Ohio. But I think she understands that this, like the time when I was potty training under her watchful eye, is a vastly important time in my life. And I appreciate that she's beginning to let go gracefully.
Climbing the mountain was probably my favorite part of the three days I had with my parents. It was later noted that I haven't had as much one-on-one time with them since before my brother was born. It's probably true. But what better time to get some facetime? Before now, they were just always there - like the furniture, only it gives orders and packs your lunch. It's so easy to take your parents for granted. I realize now that when it seemed like they were breathing down my neck, they were really just trying to shape me into the man that they knew I could be, but that I didn't yet want to acknowledge. My dad always says, "See, I do know what I'm talking about," which is a fatherly way of saying, "I told you so! Nanny nanny boo boo!"... It's scary how often I find that this is true. Many times I'll learn a life lesson and think, I feel as though I've learned this from someone before. More often than not, it was my parents who taught me in the first place - I was just too stubborn to learn it the first time around. Even now I think I'm too smart for my parents. I'm not, but it's nice to wish.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my parents are the best in the world. If you take offense to that, then too bad; because it's true. I don't tell them that nearly enough, though.
But I wasn't there on Saturday. I was hanging out with my progenitors.
Things have been a little lonely around here lately, so when my parents showed up - presumably to make sure that I was still alive - I was delighted to take the day off. (Who am I to turn down the opportunity of having a vehicle at my mercy?) Of course, these plans had been in the works for several weeks and, admittedly, I was really looking forward to their visit. I haven't seen a familiar face all summer, so in order to keep the familiar faces close by, I designated myself as the official tour guide and packed their three-day trip with as much sightseeing as I possibly could. (Also, who am I to turn down the opportunity of having a vehicle at my mercy?)
And drive we did. As I've noted before, Yellowstone is an enormously large place. We saw just about all of it, plus the Grand Tetons. Dad said that he put close to 800 miles on the rental car in three days. Needless to say this was a tiring weekend - rivaling some of my more strenuous hiking treks.
Anyway, our journey started as soon as they arrived at Old Faithful. We exchanged greetings, checked them into their cabin, and hit the road. I took them up the eastern arm of the Grand Loop road, stopping to explore various places along the way. "Exploring" is, of course, much safer when Mom is around, but she put up with (I'm sure) more than her fair share, going out on several motherly ledges - so to speak.
We all, I think, agreed that of the two Grand Canyons we've seen this summer, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone is the prettier. But we didn't have time to linger around all day. We were on a schedule!
I found that over the course of the summer, my method of verbal communication has changed. I'm not entirely sure if it's for better or for worse, but it was noticeable in my conversations with my parents. Most of my conversations these days don't last any longer than five minutes, so it was odd to find myself talking with the same humans for hours at a time. It's funny how even the simplest things seem special after time spent without them.
As we drove, we slowly ascended into the lofty northeast corner of Yellowstone. Passing Mount Washburn, I was eternally grateful that I had decided to abandon its ascent the previous week, because I might not have been alive when my parents arrived. Driving up a mountain is much easier anyway, and it leaves you with enough energy to get in a good CrossFit endorsement.
Who needs a gym?
Cruising right along, we made it to our destination: Tower Falls. Looked at the falls, hiked two miles on the wrong trail, ate PB&J in the car, drove an hour and a half back to Old Faithful in the dark. It was a good first day.
The great thing about parents is that, while they never completely stop being your parents, they become less like parents and more like companions as time progresses. My dad often jokingly refers to himself as "Wise Sensei", and though his kids roll their eyes as they imagine him wearing a gown and a fu-manchu while sitting cross-legged in his dojo, we secretly admit that he holds more wisdom than we give him credit for. After all, it is we who ask the majority of the questions in the house - not him. And where I used to roll my eyes, I'm now eager to listen because soon I'll be needing to use that wisdom; and Dad won't be over in the living room waiting for me to ask him about it.
The next morning was an early one, finding us awake at 5:30 so that we could get to our destination at a good hour. I must admit, the Grand Tetons are much prettier than Yellowstone. Certainly Yellowstone comes out on top, thanks to its incredible diversity, but in a purely aesthetic sense one would be hard-pressed to find a more beautiful spot on the entire planet.
Great googly-moogly, I rest my case. But seriously, I think this picture is hanging somewhere in God's bedroom. I had really just wanted to see some moose*, but this... This is one of those places that you have to experience in order to believe it. I could tell this was going to be another good day. (*Zero moose were seen.)
Basically we hiked in this the whole morning, and I'm not even going to write about it because trying to describe it would be useless. So here's a picture of us:
The rest of the day was spent in and around Old Faithful. I'm actually considering renting out my parents to a travel agency, because it seemed like every time we passed a geyser, it erupted. We saw several geysers erupt that I've never seen before, affirming my longtime suspicion that my parents are magical.
Day three was - in true Paul Conover fashion - entirely made up on the spot. I knew we would go north, and that's about it. So, getting on the road with nothing else planned, we ended up at Mammoth Hot Springs. It's important to note that, over the course of three days, I heard Wise Sensei mutter "I just don't get it" more times than I've ever heard before. How did that rock get there? Why did those trees grow in the middle of that hot spring? What the heck's going on here?! ... They're the same questions that I've been asking all summer, and that scientists have been asking for more than a century. They're questions that we may never know the answers to - not even Wise Sensei.
After pondering the Mammoth Hot Springs for a while, we climbed a mountain. We had been thinking about climbing another, more mountainous mountain, but eventually decided that this less mountainous mountain would suffice (even though the less mountainous mountain was still quite mountainous in relation to the mountainous amounts of mountains that there are to mount). Regardless of which mountain we climbed, Mom was a hero. You see, Mom isn't a big fan of heights. She also isn't a big fan of the fact that her children are (literally and figuratively) living on the edges of cliffs. On top of that, she hadn't been feeling well that morning. Nevertheless, she willfully climbed the mountain. Bless her heart, when I went to take this picture...
...I'm fairly certain I could hear it pounding in her chest. We had been talking about personalities, and how mine has changed in the past few years. She said she was the type who would rather read stories about other people who do dangerous things. I said that I used to be like that, but that now I want to be the person writing the stories. So when she yelled that I wasn't to take a single more step out onto the cliff's edge, I asked her how she was planning on reading my stories if she didn't let me write them. As quick as any loving mother, she replied, "It'll be hard to write your stories if you're dead at the bottom of a cliff." I had to laugh, because it was then that I realized how strange this situation was. If you had told me four years ago that I would very soon climb a mountain in Yellowstone with my mom, well, you wouldn't have even thought to make up such a ridiculous story to tell me. Yet here we were, hiking up the side of Bunsen Peak, and it was perfectly natural. I have to commend my mother immensely for finding the strength to let me come out here. Her motherly instinct, I'm sure, was begging her to stuff me in a bag and haul me back to good ol' safe ol' Troy, Ohio. But I think she understands that this, like the time when I was potty training under her watchful eye, is a vastly important time in my life. And I appreciate that she's beginning to let go gracefully.
Climbing the mountain was probably my favorite part of the three days I had with my parents. It was later noted that I haven't had as much one-on-one time with them since before my brother was born. It's probably true. But what better time to get some facetime? Before now, they were just always there - like the furniture, only it gives orders and packs your lunch. It's so easy to take your parents for granted. I realize now that when it seemed like they were breathing down my neck, they were really just trying to shape me into the man that they knew I could be, but that I didn't yet want to acknowledge. My dad always says, "See, I do know what I'm talking about," which is a fatherly way of saying, "I told you so! Nanny nanny boo boo!"... It's scary how often I find that this is true. Many times I'll learn a life lesson and think, I feel as though I've learned this from someone before. More often than not, it was my parents who taught me in the first place - I was just too stubborn to learn it the first time around. Even now I think I'm too smart for my parents. I'm not, but it's nice to wish.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my parents are the best in the world. If you take offense to that, then too bad; because it's true. I don't tell them that nearly enough, though.
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