By STAN TINER
tiner@sunherald.com
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It's just a bridge, isn't it?
Like any other bridge, a man-made physical structure. Conceived in someone's mind, put on paper with specifications, renderings and the like, beginning at point A and ending at point B.
Oh, you may speak of the blood, the toil and the tears that are a part of the alchemy of such a thing, but in the end it is a man-made object intended to transport cars and trucks and motorcycles and the people who drive them, and their passengers, over a particular body of water to destinations they have chosen. That is the way of humankind; we are captains of our universe, determined to overcome the impediments to our own inconvenience in such ways as the bridge provides.
We enjoy the sense of dominion these edifices provide.
So for all of those years before Katrina we drove across the bridge that spanned Biloxi Bay almost oblivious, even indifferent, to its physical presence, noticing it only occasionally when it opened its jaws wide to allow a boat to pass, slowing the rush of life to a standstill, requiring us to stop and to rest above the tranquil bay, perhaps to spy a gull or a fisherman and to envy their freedom.
Until Katrina. Until August 29, 2005.
On that awful day the old bridge was swept away, with the physical Mississippi Coast we had known and loved. When the mighty storm passed, all that stood where the bridge once rode above the waters were the concrete piers on whose shoulders the bridge had rested. Those piers remained as silent sentinels to our memories, like an honor guard to our sense of loss.
Far to the west the bridge that united Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis across that great bay had also fallen before the surge, so the people of South Mississippi, who had been united by the bridges over the two bays, were separated in a way that could be felt in the foundations of their souls.
It was when you looked at the emptiness where both bridges had stood that you perhaps best understood the task that lay ahead.
So even as individuals and families began the task of getting on with their lives, cleaning up and laying the foundation for the future, the same was taking place in the two bays. Slowly the forms of new bridges began to emerge across the waters like sea monsters, teasing the viewer with the promise of a formidable creature.
When the first span over the Bay of St. Louis opened in May, we came to understand better how much such a thing can affect a place. Perhaps we couldn't say the words in precisely the way we felt that moment, but God knows we could feel the moment in our throats, and we could feel the tears on our faces as we rode again from one side to the other, repeating the experience a few times in succession just because we could, and because it felt so good.
Now we arrive at this time of anticipation - only hours now - before the opening of the Biloxi Bay Bridge, and can confess a sense of childlike wonder, such as on the night before Christmas when our expectations are high and we can hardly sleep knowing of the goodness that awaits us.
But it's just a bridge, isn't it?
Oh no, this is not just a bridge - it is the hopes and dreams of a people realized. It is a ribbon of steel and concrete that reunites a people whose communities have been severed for too long. The bridge represents a reunion of family and friends who yearn to be as connected as they once were, and who will be very soon.
It is not just a bridge; it is our bridge, a gift from the generous American people who have given us so much already and now the wonderful expression of their love for the people of South Mississippi.
Our spirits soar and our prayers of thanksgiving are uttered with fervent appreciation.
Oh no, this is not just a bridge, it is the span that connects us to the future we are building, and its destination is the hopes and dreams that live in the hearts of all who will travel the way that will carry us from here to there.
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. People say that info is coming soon, but how soon is soon.
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