The Beauty of Bridges

Leisurely strolling the wooded trails at the El Dorado Nature Center is a pleasant way to unwind from the stress of our citified ways. It's nice to go at different times of the year and see the changes, the barren trees in winter, the wild mustard flourishing as the weather warms, turtles clamoring for their favorite sunny spot in the summer. But not all of the changes are at the hands of Mother Nature.

When I first started going there, they had these little wooden footbridges that crossed the meandering stream that flows there. They were rough-hewn things made of long sturdy planks that had been faded by the sun.  They fit the character of that overgrown place, folksy, but utilitarian. One might expect to see a Tom Sawyer type lad, bedecked in overalls wearing a straw hat, fishing off the edge of such a bridge (if fishing were allowed and if you could get a kid to wear overalls and a straw hat). In a word, they were quaint.  

I don't know if it was wood rot, termites, lawsuits (or threats of lawsuits), perilous conditions or some other pestilence but the quaint old bridges were removed and replaced with something safer, sturdier, but slightly less charming. More utilitarian, way less folksy. I'm sure the reasons for the change are both wise and economical but I have to say that I was sad and sorry to see the old bridges go.  

Still, another bridge here in Long Beach that is slated to change is the Gerald Desmond Bridge. Worn down by extensive use--"the bridge, built in the 1960s, was not designed to handle today's traffic volumes, and is deteriorating," the Port of Long Beach says-- it too will be rebuilt. Considering the fact that something like 13% of ALL retail goods pass over that bridge going from the port to store shelves makes such a change both wise and economical too, but the sketches of the newest iteration promise something decidedly un-folksy, something both sleek and lovely.  

I think about bridges a lot, about the difficulty of spanning physical distances across uncomfortable or even dangerous places. Places humans weren't meant to be. I think about the knowledge of physics and engineering that goes into a bridge, the knowledge that keeps cars and trucks, products and people, from plummeting into the mysterious dark green waters of the port.  

I think about the feeling of human victory in conquering such spaces with ingenuity, perseverance and brawn. I think about the connections that are made when we become free to explore places we have never been and meet people we have never seen. I think about bridges as symbols too, not just about the act of connecting, but about the joy of connecting and the joy of connectedness. A bridge symbolizes not just reaching-out but also acceptance, the embrace of those who have been separated.  It can mean not just going someplace new, but leaving something old and familiar behind. At its very essence, a bridge is an act of courage. In that way, all bridges are beautiful.

Tim Bulone is an ardent observer of life on the swirling blue marble. He works at Davis Group Consulting and creates fine art and canvas prints which he likes to sell from time to time at http://www.MyFamilyArt.com He is an early morning pedestrian in Belmont Shore, where he resides with his wife.