You may have seen a couple of weeks ago the story of the oil-rich sheik who has had his name bulldozed in the sand in such massive letters that they can be seen from outer space. Let’s hope they spelled it right. That would be a costly typo.
You don’t need to have read Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” the ultimate put-down of would-be immortals, to know the futility of building such monuments:
“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Instead, just go out on the dusty trails in the reopened national forest. Since the warm weather started, I have done an early morning walk each day along the fire road from the Angeles Crest fire station and almost every time, I see the new footprints of one other hiker, though not always the same one.