The passing of an old friend.

Today had many facets. I had an enjoyable time at River City Church in Chattanooga. They didn't mention hell or sin much, but it was an interesting time none the less. The rest of the day went fairly uneventfully. I hung around with friends, and had dinner with a group of wonderful people. After dinner I practiced in the offing of the chapel until it got to dark to see. When I got online however, I started to see the bad news. A friend posted on his blog about the devastation happening in Vermont, and how many covered bridges were destroyed in the flooding. He mentioned a few I know, and and one very dear to my heart. Today, the covered bridge over the Williams river in Lower Bartonsville collapsed.

I have always loved that bridge. We have had a good long run. From hiding in it as a kid and scaring bikers, to ambushing friends when they crossed it. Besides being the fastest way of getting to I-91 and the rest of the outside world, the bridge stood as a monument to Vermont ingenuity, and all the history of New England. The cover kept the weather off of the road bed, keeping it from rotting. However, in the winter when the travelers used sleighs, people would have to shovel snow onto the bridge so that travelers could pass through. It was also an iconic part of the railroad. the tourist train that ran from Bellows Falls to Chester went right by it, and it featured in many photographs. Sometimes you may have heard covered bridged called kissing bridges. The obvious reason is that when in the bridge no one can see you snogging when going for a ride with your significant other. My parents had a tradition of kissing whenever they passed through it. It was, naturally, accompanied by ews, protestations, and the comment "That's a big fish."*

The bridge holds many memories. As a kid, we would sometimes hide in the walls and scare bikers. One year, our family hosted a viking theme party for a group of homeschoolers. We all dressed up, and dad carried a big viking waraxe. Made of duct tape and cardboard to be sure, but intimidating none the less. As the people came through the bridge, we would jump out and ambush them. One child would stay with us, while the rest traveled on to the party. The only casualty that day was when I got a nasty splinter from either Paul or Isaac's sword in the palm of my hand. I deserved it. Last winter, we had friends over, and again, ambushed them. This time, my agile brother hid up in the rafters, and I waited to stop them. Ben, of course, was the tech guy who brought a laptop into a gunfight. It was a good day.

The bridge and I have had a long run, and I will sorely feel it's departure.

*The kids in my family still don't care much for kissing. Even I think it's gross. When we watch movies, we have a tendency to ignore any displays of affection, particularly when they involve the sharing of copious amounts of saliva. There's a large stuffed animal, that sortof looks like a salmon, and it's about four feet long. At one particular scene, to distract, and amuse, someone pointed out the fish, and said "My, that's a big fish!" Ever since, it's been a family expression used to mean "Avert your eyes, awkward moment passing."