Livin' Small

The not-so great pretender: Man falls off bridge

Drunken stunt ends with joker tumbling 30 feet into marsh, police say

BLOOMINGTON, Minn. – A 23-year-old man is in stable condition after he plummeted off a bridge over the Minnesota River while pretending to fall off the structure.

Police got a call just before 5 a.m. Sunday from a 21-year-old man who said his friend fell off the Highway 77 bridge and into a marshy area about 30 feet below.

The caller said he was driving north when his friend, who he said had been drinking, told him to pull into the bridge’s emergency lane so he could urinate.

The 23-year-old eventually climbed to the ledge of the bridge, then looked at his friend and pretended to fall. “He then in fact fell,” according to a press release from the Bloomington Police Department.

Police from Bloomington and Eagan responded, and the Eagan Fire Department used a chair lift to retrieve the man. He was transported to Hennepin County Medical Center, where he was treated.

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This story evoked a story about my youth.  It seems lately to be the thing with me when I see certain stories.  This story is about when I was an early teen.  My brother Danny and friend Dwight were “feeling it” one day.  We had to hatch a plan.  There was this set of bridges around the corner from the house.  One we called the big bridge and the other the little bridge.  Come on, we had big imaginations.  After all our tiny community was called Small. 

The big bridge had scrapple under the bridge to prevent the dirt from washing away from under the road where the bridge met the ground.  Okay, maybe I need to describe scrapple to the ladies.  Scrapple is large rocks from granite quarries.  They will range in size, but to give an average they probably weigh in at about seven to ten pounds and are about the size of a bowling ball. 

This scrapple was to be placed on the bridge rail over the water in the creek.  One of us would stand on the bridge rail along side of this rock and the other two of us would stand on the bridge roadway and wait for an oncoming car. 

When a car was spotted the two of us would pretend to fight near the one standing on the rail and as the car would near we would “bump” the one standing on the rail and at the same time push the rock into the water.  The water would splash while the one of us standing on the rail would land on the bank below.  This wasn’t a big drop.  It was probably only seven or eight feet at the most.  We just had to watch for moccasins.  We had our share of snakes.  Fortunately we never encountered one in all our tries at this adventure. 

We did this a few times till one particular time.  It was the scariest one.  We had ourselves poised at the ready and as the car approached we went through the routine and all went well.  The water splashed well up over the bridge rail.  The car was traveling quite fast and when the guy saw the water splash, he came to a screeching, tire dragging halt right on the bridge and jumped out and hung over the rail looking for a drowning victim, only to find Dwight standing on the bank brushing his pants off.  Boy, was this guy upset.  I thought he was going to beat all three of us, take us to our parents and have them beat us too, which was the custom in Small when kids were found doing stuff they ought not to. 

We were fortunate though.  He just gave us a good tongue lashing and we never did that again.  That’s something ain’t it?  You find something fun to do and the adults ruin it for all of us.

I’m not particularly inspired today, but I thought I’d test the waters to see if anything is there.  I’ve been feeling kinda lonely lately.  It must be a cycle.  Come to think of it, just how many cycles can there be?

lifecycle

bicycle

unicycle

recycle

menstrual cycle

moon cycle

bio-cycles

cycles of depression

water cycle (water, vapor, cloud, rain or solid, liquid, gas)

aliquot cycles

seasonal cycles

deeper debt cycles  (I’ve been riding this one for quite some time.)

harmonic cycles

climatic cycles

biogeochemical cycles

generational cycles

short cycles

long cycles

moderate cycles

wash cycles

You came in the back door

Your smile

Made my heart soar

Your arms

Are what I yearned for

Your lips

Kisses, I want more

Your hug

My heart melted to the floor

Your strength

From you I drew more

A fresh charge of life

From this day

No more strife

All I can say

You give me life.

Sometimes I feel young

Sometimes I feel old.

Back where I came from

Us Rowe men of my clan

Died, no longer in the fold.

By the age of sixty I’m told

This would be my time to go

I was told by my old man

On this I’m not sold.

Sixty, plus I am

With many years to go,

A lady to love.

She loves me, you know.

This isn’t original to me, but very much how I feel sometimes.

What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?

A crabby old man . … . .. . not very wise, Uncertain of habit . .. . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice . . . . . ‘I do wish you’d try!’

Who seems not to notice .. .. . .. . the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not .. . . . . lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?

Is that what you’re thinking? . .. . . . Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you’re not looking at me..

I’ll tell you who I am. . . .. . . As I sit here so still, As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.

I’m a small child of Ten . . .. . . with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters .. . . . .. who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.

Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he’ll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now .. . .. . . I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide .. . . . .. And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . . .. . . My young now grown fast, Bound to each other .. . . .. . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone, But my woman’s beside me . . . .. . to see I don’t mourn.

At Fifty, once more, babies play ’round my knee, Again, we know children . . . . .. My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.

I look at the future .. . . . . shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing . .. . . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old man . .. . . .. and nature is cruel.

‘Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.

There is now a stone .. . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells, And now and again . .. . . . my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys .. . . . . I remember the pain.

And I’m loving and living . . . .. . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . .. . . . gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . . .. . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people .. . … . . open and see.

Not a crabby old man .. .. . Look closer . . . see ME!!

The sands of time

Weigh heavy on my soul

In that hourglass

Seem like seven fold

I’ve many years now

Some say still young

I still see many years

Till I go home.

I have the love of a woman

Who cares for me

Her eyes dance

Her smile so bright.

Her love I feel, so sweet

Being around her

Is such a treat.

Keeping the sands of time

In retreat.