This Old Bridge

By R. Milton Blue

We are not family; I would not even venture to say that we are, or ever have been, friends of any measurable level. The acquaintance of which I speak is an old and failing wooden bridge from my very distant past.

This old bridge, spanning the Van Wert Street gap over the railway below, has been on the job far longer than I have been alive, and I am now 63 years of age. This old bridge and I have more or less "acknowledged one another" since I was 9 years old and in the fourth grade at Buchanan Elementary.

Our family moved from Rome to Buchanan in the fall of 1965, and I became acquainted with the old bridge the very first time I rode the bus to school.

From that first introduction, this bridge would bully me, taunt me and put the fear of death into me. For every day that my school bus passed over it, I always had an uneasy feeling that this rickety old bridge was going to collapse onto the rail bed far below and that we would surely fall to our deaths. It did not appear safe to me as a young child, and it appears much the worse for wear today.

Regardless of my earliest opinion of her fitness, the number of children that she has safely shuttled to and from the school she watches over is beyond measure. She took her charge for our safety with gallant resolve - we were never in any danger where she was concerned.

Now generations strong, we have accompanied our children, and our children's children, along this same familiar path of our long past youth. If – like me – you were fortunate enough to grow up in Buchanan, this old bridge has become entwined not only in your formative years, but also in your adolescence, and beyond. She is as much a part of our lives as are the strong core values we received growing up here.

It has now been 54 years since we first met, and yet she still stands vigilant, still on duty, still spanning the gap she was given the charge to oversee, so many decades past.

The better years of this old bridge are now unfortunately behind her – her health has been woefully neglected. She has been put out to pasture, so to speak, deemed too old and feeble and unworthy of the task for which she was given charge.

I understand that the railroad intends to tear her down this year. Knowing that she is nearing the end of her life, I felt compelled to visit her one last time – while I still had the opportunity. Today, I viewed the old bridge with a much different perspective, as more than a mere acquaintance.

I did not doubt her at all. I walked up to her with no fear, striding across her full length with unwavering faith that she would not let me down – and she did not disappoint.

Halfway across, while pausing to gently place my hand on one of her weathered railings, I shed a tear as much for guilt as for compassion. Reflecting backward, I must acknowledge that I did not properly appreciate her in my youth, but I certainly do today, now, in this moment of time.

I feel a great sadness within my soul that her end is so near, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to prolong her life.

She is quite a marvel, this old bridge, for she was brought to life in an era of very limited technology; yet valiantly endures the stresses of more than a half-century of time, in spite of her aging and simplistic design.

While others may view her merely as a structure that has outlived her usefulness, I see her as much, much more than that.

The railroad below her is just another unfeeling entity with no vested interest in the towns and villages that it traverses with cold steel ribbons of rail.

For us, the former and current inhabitants of this one particular village, the old bridge is an affectionate part of our lives that has watched children being born, play and grow, reach adulthood and have children of their own – thus keeping the village, and need for the bridge, alive.

This old bridge has seen it all – a common thread that serves to bind so many generations together. She is every bit as much a part of the character of our community as a whole, as she is a part of every individual life she has faithfully watched over.

Today, the old bridge and I did indeed become friends, if only for a short while. I cherish the opportunity that I had today; to visit her one last time, to touch her, to know and respect her worth, to spend time with her, to simply appreciate her while I still can.

One thing is for certain – her absence will forever change the landscape – and the character – of the community as well as all of the lives that she has touched. It saddens me that future generations will be cheated of the opportunity to know and appreciate her in the way that we have.

People and things share one foregone conclusion – that we all shall eventually fall into decay, return to the earth, and impact the renewal of life in other forms. Nonetheless, that does absolutely nothing to soothe the aching in my soul for this beautiful old bridge.

The impending absence of this old bridge is just one more example of my personal history shrinking almost daily, and that history is becoming uncomfortably empty.

I urge everyone that this bridge has impacted in one way or another, to go visit her while you still can, acknowledge her worth and show her some much-deserved love.

Thank you, my friend, for your dedicated service. As long as my own generation continues to live, so shall you – if only in loving memory.

I hope you do not mind that I whittled a small piece of you as a keepsake, that I will keep among my cherished possessions until the end of my own time. WGW

Publisher's note: Norfolk Southern Railroad will be tearing down the old Van Wert Street Bridge.

R. Milton Blue is a native of northwest Georgia and a 1974 graduate of Haralson County High School. Milton draws much of the subject matter of his writing from real-life experiences growing up in rural Buchanan, Georgia, where he spent his formative and adolescent years. Sometimes funny and sometimes serious, he writes about situations and events that have profoundly affected his soul, and embeds within the lines a lesson relevant to present-day life. Milton currently resides in LaGrange, Ga.