The Old Man of the Mountains died last weekend, leaving 1.3 million grandchildren and uncountable neices and nephews. That pile of rock symbolized New Hampshire in a way that few other states, hell few other places of any kind are symbolized. Really the only other ones I can think of are the Kiwi and the Maple Leaf. I’m sure there are more, but every other place I can think of has either multiple symbols, as Ireland has both the Harp and the Shamrock, or none at all, like my native Michigan.
Anyway, I see three explanations. First, it just happened. The whole formation was cantilevered out, and it just gave way.
Two, too much asphalt down south and on the Seacoast. He was New Hampshire, and he died when too much of his New Hampshire was gone.
Three, It wasn’t New Hampshire, but the the United States that changed out from under him. He helped Daniel Webster build the Union, he was a terminal on the underground railroad (No slavecatcher dared go north of Concord) and what they’re doing in Washington these days is not what he was all about.
Of course two and three combine just fine.
Anyway, he’s gone and a million people feel just a little hollow.