Compassion in Concrete - Hoover Dam
When visiting Las Vegas, we had a list of places to explore—from hotel microcosms to casinos—but at the top of every list were the whimsical places. The in-betweens. The red stone of canyons, the cactus-dotted deserts, the monuments of a different time. I wanted to wander the offbeat paths of Vegas—where city lights dim and the world feels small.
So at 7 a.m., we laced up our hiking boots, packed protein bars, jerky, and water, and set off for a day of adventure. We passed magnificent hotels, sprawling casinos, and vibrant storefronts until, with each mile, the city shrank behind us—giving way to rolling desert and quiet roads.
Half an hour later, we pulled into the Hoover Dam. As a young girl, I remember reading about it in textbooks and listening to my history teacher speak of the Colorado River and the urgent need to build the dam. I remembered the stories of heated debates over water rights and the terrifying jobs workers undertook during the Great Depression. Now, Chris and I stood overlooking an architectural marvel. And while it was beautiful, my heart sank as I read about the lives lost in its making. Men—driven by desperation and duty—risked everything to feed their families. It humbled me to think of the safety measures and protections we now take for granted, measures built upon their sacrifices.
As we made our way back toward the gift shop, we came across a small concrete slab on the side of a wall. It looked unremarkable at first—no grand structure, no flowers or flags—just a slab. But a sign nearby explained its significance.
Beneath it was a companion. A four-legged friend buried in stone. In a place where men labored in extreme heat, breathed toxic fumes, and worked under constant danger, there had once been a dog—a source of joy in the middle of hardship. He rode the bus they called “Big Bertha,” greeted workers with wagging tails and warmth, and offered comfort on the loneliest of days. I stood next to Chris as tears welled in my eyes. The sign explained he was accidentally run over by a work truck as he slept beneath it. It read:
“Grown men wept as they jackhammered a tomb for him in the rock next to the temporary ranger station.”
That stayed with me.
It wasn’t just the scale of the dam or the innovation behind it that left a mark—it was that moment. The reminder that even in a place built on sweat and sacrifice, it was companionship that made men weep.
Compassion is what makes us human. It gives us purpose, anchors us when the world feels brutal. In between the engineering marvels and historic facts, that’s what I carried with me from the Hoover Dam: that in the most trying of times, people still found joy, still held on to love, still grieved deeply for a dog who made the unbearable feel just a little lighter.
Recommendations:
📍Red Rock Canyon
📍 Seven Magic Mountains
📍Hoover Dam
📍Vegas
Eataly
Wyndham Resort
Utilize the Monotrail for travel
Bliss Dance Sculpture
Ru Paul Drag Show
Visited in February
Temperature 60-80 degrees
More pictures will be uploaded by 6/10/2025