Paying for the Privilage of Posing

Here I am with my sister, Grace, and my brother Ernest Sargent, Jr. having our picture taken with a pioneering car, and with its occupants.

After I settled in my first destination when I had time, because we were all expected to work, was a tour up the road, past the Sentinel Hotel, to the Bridge. There, I would hang over and take a long look at Half Dome; refilling my eyes with memories of the times we had climbed up the back carrying photographic equipment.

I always stopped to look at the enormous book that they kept there on a stand. Everyone who visited Yosemite signed into the book, and I enjoyed very carefully turning the pages to see who was ‘in town.’

The Village had grown up from the Sentinel Hotel, stretching south, ending at our corner. Visiting the Hotel was a part of my summer remembering program. It was a very busy place with the coming and going of tourists and the sounds of doors closing. It was an old building and Uncle said it was never built to last, really. It sagged here and there, even when I was small.