Why meet we on the bridge of time

To ‘change one greeting, then to part?

Sir Richard Francis Burton, that greatest of travelers, wrote that verse almost two centuries ago. Bridges have been much on everyone’s mind this week; our thoughts, and hearts, go out to the people of Minneapolis-St. Paul who lost friends and loved ones–and who will be struggling with the aftermath of the loss of a major artery for many years to come, I’m sure.  In covering the story, various media reported that the last major bridge collapse unrelated to a storm or earthquake was the Connecticut I-95 highway bridge collapse in 1983. That collapse, in which a hundred-foot section of highway dropped into the Mianus River in Cos Cob, happened in the middle of the night, and still killed three people. And I really do remember it as if it were yesterday. I was returning from a trip to Florida and driving home to Cos Cob from the airport that night. Traffic was very light, and I got off at exit 4. At the time, I lived in what I liked to call my “writer’s garret”–the top-floor studio in a historic house on the Boston Post Road, off the jughandle used by southbound traffic to turn onto Indian Field Road, which led to the highway. Very early the next morning, I was awakened by what sounded like loudspeakers and turned out to be police bullhorns. The police were directing traffic away from the highway entrance and coping with all the I-95 traffic that was now defaulting to the Post Road. As I was soon to find, the bridge between exits 4 and 5 had collapsed not 10 minutes after I had left the highway. That night, I didn’t need to cross that bridge, but I used it frequently, and it was certainly a shock to hear it was gone. In most people’s minds, I think, a bridge is an architecturally noticeable span–think Golden Gate, London Bridge, the George Washington Bridge. When highways happen to cross water, we often barely even notice. But the days of news and months of traffic havoc wrought by the I-95 collapse took away my innocence in that regard, as is now undoubtedly happening to the people of Minnesota. Realizing that it’s been 24 years since the Mianus River Bridge fell had me thinking about bridges, and time. I vaguely remembered the quote, and had to look it up. Turns out the context is appropriate, too; it begins by talking about victims of fate. Burton’s real message, however, is a simple one, and probably the most valuable lesson any of us can take away from inexplicably random tragedy: Seize the day.

–Mary Hunt, Editor, eFlyer