Going home ... again

About two months back, I received a fairly cryptic e-mail from a friend of my dad's, coincidentally also the father of one of my roommates. Attached were a series of photos of a steel trestle bridge blowing up over the Missouri River. Now, any Bismarck native will tell you just how much of a cornerstone Memorial Bridge was. Completed in mid-September, 1922, the bridge was dedicated to veterans of the first World War. Since then it's entered the lives of countless thousands of locals. For me, Memorial Bridge always held memories of driving around in Dan Bauer's '88 hatchback Honda Civic, ducking heads out windows at 85 mph in -15 degree weather till our eyes froze shut. Nostalgia sat waiting for me on the Bismarck side of the bridge every time I drove home from Missoula. I can still see the sandbars of the Missouri zipping by through those trestles, Bismarck State College perched on the hill to the north, the Missouri bluffs and Fort Lincoln a few miles south.

I despise cliches, but all good things come to an end. During construction on the bridge four or five years ago, some idiot with the city didn't factor in seasonal expansion when pouring concrete. The bearings froze, the bridge's life was reduced to less than ten years, and the city got what it wanted: the opportunity to build a new four-lane replacement. I was home this summer when hundreds of local residents took an early lunch to drive over Memorial Bridge for the last time. I took photos, said goodbye to an old friend. Then I left town for the fall.

Driving into town last night, I took the I-94 bridge (Grant Marsh) over the Missouri, turned off at the Divide Street exit and drove past the YMCA on Washington. A speedier way to my house, yes, but it felt wrong. What trace is left of Memorial Bridge lies on the sandy bottom of the Missouri River. I finally realized what I've talked about with so many friends lately. There's a point when the changes stack up, tip the scale and push a familiar place beyond recognition. I can drive 800 miles to my parent's house for Thanksgiving, but I can never go home again.



http://www.memorialbridge.info/