My mother said that once on our way home from Charleston when I was about 3, I wanted to take the Cooper River Bridge home with me. Hmmm. I think that was just the beginning of a lifelong affinity for bridges. There’s just something about them that captivates me. Maybe it’s because they symbolize movement from one place to another or a change from one part of your life to another, a transition of sorts. You can’t very well reach the other shore if you stand shivering and afraid on the homeland (so to speak).
When Connie and I dined on Mexican food earlier this evening, we began talking about our New York trips and the fun and memorable experiences we had. Although we went at different times and with other people, we still enjoyed reminiscing about the high and low points of our visits. As we chatted, I realized that I hadn’t written anything about my most recent visit to the Big Apple at the first of May. The hour is late, and my brain is a bit muddled, so I’m not going to go into a detailed description of everything we did. Nope. I’m just going to mention THE BRIDGE.
For weeks before we left, Lisa and I talked about how she’d walk across the Brooklyn Bridge with me if I’d sit in Central Park with her and sip a latte or some other tasty beverage. “It’s a deal,” I promised. After reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as a book club selection last year, I was determined to at least “set foot” in young Francie’s city. Yet when the time came, our schedules got a little too crammed, and I soon realized that if I was going to cross the bridge over to Brooklyn, then I was going to do it alone. Leaving Lisa and Linda on the tour bus, I bravely (my perception) walked the two blocks to the start of the bridge ALONE. Well, sort of alone. I was surrounded by throngs of humanity, all strangers.
Approaching the bridge, I was awed by its beauty and structure. I was also surprisingly pleased at its human traffic since hundreds of people were traversing the mile long bridge between lower Manhattan and Brooklyn. While many were tourists with cameras like yours truly, many were not. The latter were dressed in suits, scrubs, uniforms, and other types of clothing that indicated that they were either coming or going to work. One of the neatest things I saw was a young Japanese couple having wedding pictures taken.
I took several pictures on the way over, and some of them are in this blog. The South Street Seaport shops where we had browsed the day before is the first one…after the shot of me waving good-bye to Lisa and Linda. The others are simply bridge shots. I loved the experience. It was awesome, and I plan to do it every time I visit the city in the future. I think, however, that it’d be more memorable and enjoyable if I had a walking buddy next time. Do I have any volunteers?
3 thoughts on “Brooklyn Bridge”
You look SO SASSY in that first picture I just can’t stand it.
I’ve never had a particular affinity for bridges, but Chris loves all architecture (including bridges). Just yesterday he was telling me about a bridge in Millau, France that is above a valley so deep that you could fit the Eiffel Tower underneath it. AND HE WANTS TO GO.
Maybe I could send him with you so I don’t have an attack of vertigo or something.
me me me me me me…pick me 🙂
I approach bridges with some trepidation.
I remember idling in the car on an extremely long bridge over the Mississippi and it felt like everything was swaying! I believe it was in Kentucky on the way back from Illinois.
I remember driving across the (old) Cooper River bridge when it was two way traffic!
Have you seen the longest cable stayed bridge in America ? Also known as the Arthur Ravenal Bridge (aka the NEW Cooper River bridge).