Cliffhanger at Mile Marker 189.9
Traveling on the New York State Thruway
between the Mohawk River
and a big vertical wall of shale
created long before the invention of road cuts,
is what remains of a white wooden cross,
maybe 100 feet up,
and about the same distance from the cliff top.
55 years ago, as a boy on family trips
between Albany and Pittsburgh,
it became a landmark I watched for,
a witness to a faith that someone
had the courage and boldness to proclaim
to untold numbers on their travels
across the Empire State.
Over the years, I watched one half of the horizontal arm
rot and break off, and then the other half.
And then at some point I noticed
that someone had replaced the whole thing.
How did they get there? How did they do it?
I don't know, but at least twice
I have observed this cycle.
Thus, this cross became a sign of defiant faith,
a proclamation of an enduring love
that will not let us go,
a timeless love,
that despite the vicissitudes of time
on all our travels
will endure and be proclaimed.
After years of not traveling this particular stretch,
The other day I saw that, once again,
only the vertical part of the cross remains.
And I wonder, is there someone out there,
perhaps of some new generation of faithful rappellers,
who will restore this marker
for yet another generation speeding by?
Scott L. Barton
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