Of Fortunes, Feathers, and Flight

July 15th

This morning we visited the Rockefeller Nature Preserve, the newest donation of the Rockefeller family to the national park. The property was formerly JY Ranch, the Rockefeller vacation compound with approximately thirty buildings. The ranch was transformed into a lovely preserve, fulfilling the conservationist vision of Laurence S. Rockefeller—grandson of John D. Rockefeller, the great oil magnate.

The Rockefeller family has played a crucial role in the formation of Grand Teton National Park. In the early 1900s, John D. Rockefeller, Jr., and others realized that the pristine beauty of Jackson Hole was in danger and hoped annex this area to Yellowstone National Park. Thus, Rockefeller formed the Snake River Land Company and began buying land from struggling Jackson Hole ranchers at a fair price. In all, he accrued 35,000 acres with the intention of presenting it to the federal government as a gift. Getting the government to accept the gift was another task altogether. Rockefeller waited fifteen years, and finally threatened to sell the land to any interested buyers if the federal government did not accept the gift. At last, Franklin D. Roosevelt took action, and Grand Teton National Park was established in 1929. All who experience the glorious natural beauty of this enchanting place are indebted to Rockefeller’s vision and generosity.

The Gilded Age, the era in which John D. Rockefeller and others acquired their tremendous fortunes, was a time of financial extremes: the squalor of the poor was a harsh contrast to the unbelievable opulence of the rich. Some historians use this contrast to promote the idea that the rich oppressed the poor and thus were somehow the cause of their poverty. However, I find that many rich people of that time subscribed to the notion that with the endowment of wealth comes the responsibility to help others less fortunate. I am sure that some capitalists of the era used their immense wealth to exploit the working class; but there were also generous philanthropists like John D. Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie who used their fortunes to benefit all. I, for one, am grateful to Carnegie for founding public libraries to help bring literacy to the general public. And I am also grateful that the Rockefeller family has purchased some of the most beautiful land from Maine to Wyoming and preserved it forever as a public treasure.
It was a privilege to enjoy the natural beauty of Rockefeller Nature Preserve. A state-of-the-art visitor’s center was an inspirational expression of the conservationist vision: artful photographs and mosaics, serene audio and visual recordings of nature, and even a welcoming reading room stocked with hundreds of delightful books! All of the exhibits were united by golden-lettered quotations illuminated on the walls; verses from a poem written by Terry Tempest Williams for the preserve. Here is my favorite verse:
“A feather floats on Phelps Lake –
a cradle of light
rocking with the breeze.

Wind speaks through pines.
Light animates granite.

An eagle soars – its shadow crosses over us.

All life is intertwined.”

I only wish that I could write with such penetrating simplicity! Verses like these make me feel like a bumbling amateur hiding behind the mask of sophisticated vocabulary.

This afternoon, Jacquelyn and I planned to go for a bike ride. We changed clothes, lathered ourselves in sunscreen, and mounted our bikes—only to find that Jacquelyn’s tire was flat. It was…very deflating. Thankfully, however, we were able to get the tire fixed in Dornans. Finally, we were able to ride! We rode along Jenny Lake, and then biked to the visitor’s center in Moose.

Today’s bike ride was entirely different from our previous one. Brooding clouds seeped across the mountains, thinly veiling them in gloomy gray. The capricious breeze suddenly became intense, seriously united in purpose. Dust devils whirled about me in the dry sagebrush; occasional raindrops pelted against my face. I leaned into the wind and pedaled hard, through the choking dust and cold rain. Strangely enough, I felt so exuberantly alive—nothing could stop me. I knew that Mom and Dad were waiting to pick me up at the visitor’s center, but I wanted to keep on riding across the vast valley until the wind whisked me into the sky like a wispy dandelion—both driven and free.