The Green Bridge

People are lined up at the light, waiting their turn through the construction zone that will remove and replace it, and everyone has time to think about its past and future. This homely structure has been a touchstone for Point Reyes Station, an entry and an exit, and I've heard from many people who are sad it will be replaced by the usual cement nonentity that passes for a bridge today.

I mourn its passing before it's even happened. The bridge is almost 100 years old. Hay trucks, every variety of car, bicycles, children, families, lovers, dogs, cats, deer, raccoons — all of it has crossed this bridge.

I used to fantasize that it could have had more arches, rounded edges, but I came to appreciate its plain, utilitarian nature: the simple steel uprights, the way its sturdiness revealed the gentle beauty of Papermill Creek. It felt like a proper support for the bodies and souls of West Marin. In more than 80 years of crossing it, driving and walking, I've watched weather and seasons alter the cropped views through the steel beams, watched the nearby ocean direct fog, wind, and sun across that small elevation, raising our consciousness of the wonders of this place.

I'm told we need a new bridge for safety, in case of a catastrophic earthquake or fire, since West Marin would otherwise be cut off from help and supplies. Fair enough.

But why isn't beauty a necessity too? Why isn't elevating the spirit, revealing new visions, also a necessity?

Why, in one of the most beautiful places on earth, isn't more thought given to a structure that will accompany our daily lives? Why do we resign our imaginations and hearts to the merely utilitarian and safe, without a glance at the magnitude of beauty we live inside of?