I remember the breaking news the day the Old Man of the Mountain fell from his perch overlooking Franconia Notch.  It was an early May day in 2003, and my parents were in Florida on vacation.  I actually cried when I called them and asked, "Have you heard?  The Old Man of the Mountain collapsed."  My father was stunned.  For as far back as I can remember my father used to take visitors to our state to see the "Old Man" on his "Tour of the Granite State".  It was the one stop that was guaranteed to have visitors gazing skyward and gawking at the granite grouping that formed the profile of the Great Stone Face.  I tended to follow his lead and brought my own friends and visitors from other states and as far away as Belgium to see the profile.  The day we lost him, I got phone calls from all over the place, sharing in my grief.   

It just seemed that he would be there forever.  He protruded from the side of Profile Mountain for thousands of years already.  No one ever guessed that he would disappear.  But on that day I knew there would be no more trips to pay a visit to the old guy on the mountain.  It might sound silly to be grief-stricken over a natural rock formation, but in reality, the Old Man of the Mountain was part of our legacy.  He was a part of the history of our state.  Legends were built around him.

I was uneasy about the thought of possibly putting up a “new” Old Man.  I mean, how could he be replicated, really?  It just didn’t seem right to replace him, even if we had the technology.  My husband thought they should place viewers at the spot where we used to stand gazing upward.  The fixed-into-position viewers would feature an etching that, when you peeked through, would appear like it did before he had fallen.  Simple enough. 

I was ok with the quarters, the stamps and the license plates too.  After all, the Old Man has been our State Emblem since 1945.  He was gone, but should not be forgotten. 

Months went by and the Task Force (we should have known we’d be in trouble when a ‘task force’ was assigned) came up with a plan.  It featured “high-tech” viewers that showed what the mountain looked like before the stone face tumbled.  High-tech, of course! 

But they didn’t stop there.  A museum was built at the bottom of Cannon Mountain to highlight the legacy of the Old Man.  The small museum is actually kind of cute.  In display cases, postcards, old photographs and other items used to maintain the rocks around the profile create an image of how important this “man” was to the residents of our state. 

A few months ago, I saw a photograph in the paper of the first stage of a sculpture that will one day be the Old Man of the Mountain Memorial.  Designed by sculptor Shelly Bradbury and designer Ron Magers, the monument is going to feature large granite slabs, which, when viewed from a certain spot will recreate the profile.  There are plans to expand the cute little museum at the base of Cannon Mountain. 

I should have known that all that bureaucracy would lead to spending and spending on monuments and museums and high-tech tributes.  It’s been four years and progress is ever so slow.  Maybe one day my father will have a reason to bring people to see the “Old Man” once again.  But will it be the same?  No.  You see, the beauty and magic of the “Old Man” is that it was a natural phenomenon.  You can throw money into projects and make high tech attractions that will undoubtedly draw tourists to the site, but you will never bring back the Old Man of the Mountain.  And, he is the reason we came.