Recently on the news, after listening to the terrible economic reports, the broadcaster told about the burning of the Gudgeonville Bridge.
To some people that would not mean much, and it would be another story just passing through the haze of the nightly news. To my family it was a place to take a leisurely ride and look at a part of history. It was a lovely old wooden covered bridge over a creek, out in the country. It was peaceful and serene and was a glimpse into the past.
My husbands' family history goes back to the seventeen hundreds in this area. I am sure that some of them rode across this bridge when it was built in 1868. The bridge was in west Erie County, just south of Elk Creek in Pennsylbania.
As an artist, I painted a number of paintings of the bridge. Of course, I left off the graffiti that restless teens seemed to enjoy painting on it. I studied the bridge and could feel the history and soul of it in our community.
Some bored person, drove across the bridge and threw a gas soaked flaming bomb back onto it. In a short time, as it was so far out in the country, the bridge came to a flaming end. What possible joy could one receive from destroying something that so many people in this area treasured?
As the snow comes down onto the burned out blackened spot where this lovely old bridge once stood, I can only grieve. My grief is not only for the bridge, but for the thousands of lovers, fisherman, families, photographers, tourists and artists who will no longer have this gorgeous piece of our history to visit.
My tears are also for the person who burned the bridge. How sad they cannot feel the joy that I along with my family and friends derived from this precious reminder of our past.
To some people that would not mean much, and it would be another story just passing through the haze of the nightly news. To my family it was a place to take a leisurely ride and look at a part of history. It was a lovely old wooden covered bridge over a creek, out in the country. It was peaceful and serene and was a glimpse into the past.
My husbands' family history goes back to the seventeen hundreds in this area. I am sure that some of them rode across this bridge when it was built in 1868. The bridge was in west Erie County, just south of Elk Creek in Pennsylbania.
As an artist, I painted a number of paintings of the bridge. Of course, I left off the graffiti that restless teens seemed to enjoy painting on it. I studied the bridge and could feel the history and soul of it in our community.
Some bored person, drove across the bridge and threw a gas soaked flaming bomb back onto it. In a short time, as it was so far out in the country, the bridge came to a flaming end. What possible joy could one receive from destroying something that so many people in this area treasured?
As the snow comes down onto the burned out blackened spot where this lovely old bridge once stood, I can only grieve. My grief is not only for the bridge, but for the thousands of lovers, fisherman, families, photographers, tourists and artists who will no longer have this gorgeous piece of our history to visit.
My tears are also for the person who burned the bridge. How sad they cannot feel the joy that I along with my family and friends derived from this precious reminder of our past.
Comments
Today on the news, it was reported that two men were picked up and charged with the burning of the bridge. I hope they are sent away for a very long time if they are guilty. It seems they have done a lot of other crimes around the area lately.
It's a shame how quickly we destroy bits of American history that are still relatively young compared to the stuff still standing in Europe and Israel.
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