"The whole world is a very narrow bridge/and the most important part/is not to be afraid..."

The bridge collapse in Minneapolis is difficult to fathom because the prologue to the tragedy is so familiar: rush hour. Downtown, major metropolitan area. People talking on their phones to their friends, yelling at kids in the backseat to be quiet, sipping a Starbucks latte. Maybe noticing the gas tank needs to be refilled. Crossing a big, sturdy bridge.

And then plummeting faster than comprehension allows towards the murky waters of the Mississippi.

Earthquakes are considered a particularly psychologically-damaging form of natural disaster; evidently, the sensation of the very earth becoming unsteady has a deeply unsettling impact. Where can you go, what can you do, when the foundation you have trusted countless times before suddenly gives way? A bridge collapse must be similar: trapped in your car, no longer with a road beneath you...

It seems that the fear of other imminent bridge collapses now haunts the country. While still reeling from and dealing with the Minneapolis disaster, reporters across the country have raced to proclaim what impending potential doom awaits. Of the 10,000 bridges in metro-Jackson, one reporter warned me as I strode on the elliptical machine, almost 3,000 are in need of major repair.

The dangerous state of our nation's bridges and the lack of funding for repairs is the focus of most conversations about the Minneapolis collapse. On the radio this morning, as I drove familiar roads to work, a road commission official being interviewed was clearing his throat nervously, assuring the public: "Yes, many bridges out there are in need of repair, and deemed structurally deficient. But that doesn't mean they are going to collapse. You can't start being afraid than any bridge you drive on might crumble. You have to keep on driving."

It brought tears to my eyes, not only for those impacted by the recent bridge collapse, but for all of us who must live with that tenuousness. Nearly all the bridges are shaky, but we have to drive across them, though they might break. We are all structurally deficient, but we have to open our hearts, though they might break. We have to keep going, keep driving, keep hoping.

Then I made it to my desk, and on my NPR homepage, there was this picture, with this caption:


Lorena Trinidad-Martinez is baptized following a funeral mass for her father, who was killed in the collapse of the I-35W bridge on Wednesday.

A family keeping faith in the wake of tragedy. Moving not only metaphorically but also achingly literally from water to water, one death, one life. It is not fair; it just is.

And so we keep crossing the next bridges as we come to them.