
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, May 8, 1994                   TAG: 9405090120
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-2   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: By SUSAN VARY TRAXEL
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

WITHOUT BRIDGE, YOU CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE

Where were you when you first learned the Memorial Bridge was closed? Many thousands of lives - over 20,000 they say - were touched. This is the story of one family's way of coping with the temporary disaster.

It is late Tuesday evening. I have put off doing what I needed to do for four days now, but I don't have much choice. I need to buy something in Fairlawn ... on the other side of the river.

I've spent the weekend at home, not eager to travel around the area. Gone are the nights of "Oh, I think I'll run to the store." Now my trips are planned in advance with maps and lists, trying to figure out how to get from Point A to Point B with the least amount of DUBLIN(g) back.

My family and I decide to walk the bridge to Kmart. I am startled to discover the inconvenience is quickly becoming a source of peaceful enjoyment.

There are many others walking the walk. I can't help but notice the interesting effect this stroll seems to have upon people. Children are rollerskating. Mothers are pushing strollers. A young couple holding hands stops to gaze over the river. An older couple recognizes friends approaching and calls out a greeting. A father accompanies his two young sons on bicycles, one with training wheels. They are passing time until Mom finishes shopping at Kmart and Kroger.

The people are smiling. It is catching. We all are caught up in the daring adventure, amazed at the enjoyment, almost feeling guilty about having so much fun. After all, this closed massive structure is causing pain to many people ... our neighbors, co-workers, business friends.

We temporarily push aside the inconveniences, relishing the moment. It seems forbidden to be glad the bridge is shut down, but as we walk, I find myself thinking how nice this is. My children and I spend the time talking about our day, planning for tomorrow, stopping to look at a bird, or the people in the park below.

But then I remember: "This is supposed to be awful" and it is! Our own family has lost income from the bridge's closing (my son works at the Golden Corral) as well as experiencing the hassles of having to drive "the long way home" since I attend New River Community College.

Walking the bridge causes me to think about the old days, about small-town acquaintances and the time when everyone walked to the store and passed their neighbors sitting on the porch, when children rode bikes down the street, giggling and racing through childhood.

There is a strange noise behind me. The sound of metal clipping rhythmically on asphalt. A young couple ride their horses across the bridge. The walkers turn and gawk. Children stop to gaze and the couple allow one to pet their horses. The evening has become a chance to experience sights, sounds and smells missed at 40 mph.

Only bikes and foot-travelers are allowed to cross Memorial Bridge now; no more zooming cars.

I find myself thinking it will not be the same once the bridge reopens. It will be back to the ordinary. The smiling, friendly festival air will be suppressed. I want to capture the moment. Tomorrow, I'll take the family for ice cream - on the other side of the bridge. These are family memories that one day my children will ponder. "Remember, Mom, back when they shut down the Memorial Bridge ..."

Susan Vary Traxel grew up in Blacksburg and has lived in Radford for the past two years, raising her three children, one of whom she home schools. She graduates this spring from New River Community College as an honors student in criminal justice. You may see Susan and her children on the bridge - they're the entrepreneurs operating the lemonade stand.

by CNB