By Teri Blair
It’s been 40 days since the 35W Bridge collapsed. Today, a sunny Fall day, I’ve come down to view the site…the first day (since the first fitful days of August) that I’ve been here. I’m writing this from the 10th Ave Bridge. I stand close enough to the collapse site to see everything, practically close enough to touch the pillars, the crushed railroad cars, the twisted steel. It looks smaller than I expected, like that feeling I have when I go back to my elementary school and the rooms seem little.
As in early August, a huge crowd gathers. We stand in respectful silence and awe. Seeing. It sinks in, one level deeper. In the river there are 5 barges, the ones used for clean up. They bob slightly in the muddy Mississippi, and I wonder how the divers found anyone. The river is dark, even with the midday sun. Two of the barges have cranes several stories high perched on them, and I don’t see the flags at first. I can’t see much at first. There is too much to look at, and all I can do is stand there. Absorbing it into my cells. But then I see it; a flag is flying against the blue sky, the Minneapolis skyline in the background. I instantly remember seeing the flags flying at Ground Zero, and I have the same rush of faith and patriotism and tenderness for what has happened. I look around, and see flags everywhere around the collapse site. There are 8. On the cranes, the barges, the trailer where the demolition crew takes their breaks. And I know someone thought that through. It was the way someone showed up for what happened here.
I walk the length of the bridge. Slowly. When I get to the end and turn to walk back, women begin to pass me wearing cotton dresses and white bonnets. And then their men come. The single ones clean-shaven, the married with beards. My attention turns from the bridge to the Mennonites, and I realize they are curious, too. Then, quite suddenly, the group of 50 clusters near one of the lookout points and forms a choir. They begin to sing a cappella hymns in 4-part harmony. Their voices are gentle, soothing, the music floating over the site and the people viewing it. I am singing the lyrics with them in my head—all familiar songs from my early upbringing in the church. A Mennonite man approaches me with a CD of their music. I accept it. He tells me they have driven up from southern Iowa to sing on the bridge. A 5-hour trip. They sing 7 songs, and continue across the bridge.
I continue walking. An artist paints the collapsed bridge with her oils, an easel set up. Parents quietly explain to their children what they’re seeing. The voices are mainly those of the children, innocent questions about how people drown, would the choo-choo train be okay; one cries when he thinks his big brother has a better view.
I came here today simply because I needed to. I came without expectations. It was time. What I didn’t plan on was the feeling of tremendous unity. Everyone tries to make sense of this, and brings what they have. The Army Corps of Engineers brings their flags; the Mennonites bring their music, the artist her palette. A feeling of deep peace permeates the crowd. And I can see somehow (as the Mennonites have sung)…It is well with my soul.
About Teri: Teri is a writer from Minnesota, living in Minneapolis. She went to the I-35W collapse site every day for several days immediately following the tragedy, but she was not able to see the bridge up close due to barricades blocking public access. Teri again visited the site this past weekend, where she did the writing practice “40 Days, 8 Flags, and 1 Mennonite Choir.” This post is a follow-up to “Thornton Wilder & Bridges,” a piece Teri wrote shortly after the August 1, 2007, bridge collapse.
Teri, I’m really appreciative of this writing practice. I can not believe it’s been 40 days. I haven’t been back down to the site since the night Liz, her Mom, and I were at the Guthrie the first week of August. And you’ve reminded me of the ways things change.
It sounds like such a healing experience to have heard the Mennonite choir sing in harmony out across the 10th Street Bridge, over the Mississippi, and down to the river bottom. And yesterday was the perfect day for it. Sunny, crisp, yet warm and blue.
You have made me want to head down to the river and revisit the site. I know soon there will be nothing left of the old bridge bones. Only a space spanning the river where she used to stand.
Perhaps I’ll take the motorcycle and see how far I can get along the parkway. I admire all the ways that you have shown up around the bridge collapse. Especially in sharing your writing on red Ravine. It is solid and grounded. Thank you.
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I have found if I just stick with life (and just show up in ways I can), life offers its own healing solution in the end. It is always a gift, but doesn’t surprise me anymore. The secret for me is in not rushing to the next thing, but taking things to their conclusion. A friend once gave me a card that said, “Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” I didn’t believe that sentence when I got the card, and figured the author of such words hadn’t ever seen any real trouble. But the words have proven themselves again and again, 10 or 15 years later.
Yes, the choir was amazing. We all stood transfixed while they sang.
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What a great card, Teri! I’ll have to remember that. I’m struggling right now with being a mother and especially being a good mother. I keep thinking I’ve ruined things. I keep forgetting, it’s not the end. I’m a mother every minute of every day. It’s never to late to be better than I’ve been before.
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ybonesy,
When I was a teacher, I sat across the conference table from hundreds of parents. The really good parents (you know, the ones who loved their children and tried to create a decent life for them) were the ones who worried they weren’t doing enough, worried that their children would pick up on any regrets they had about parenthood, worried if they ever lost their temper. The children of these parents could take a little upheaval once in a while because they had such solid foundations from being loved. I’d bet my life that Em and Dee fall into this category.
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Nice!
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The beautiful piece and the comments made about healing remind me, given that it is Sept. 11, that I have never returned to Ground Zero. I lived in various parts of Manhattan for six years. I thought it the center of the universe. I couldn’t imagine ever leaving…until I did. That was a couple of decades ago. I still have family in New Jersey and family that work in Manhattan. But though I have visited them in New Jersey, I have not even stepped foot on Manhattan since the attack. I can’t bear it. Even though I’ve been told it is a friendlier, lovlier place since the attack. The city feels more like a community. I was living in Manhattan while the twin towers were being built. Perhaps I’ve condemned myself to never heal. Of many things.
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Terri, I really enjoyed this. (Except for the part where you called it a Fall Day. I’m still clinging to the last vestiges of summer, with the nails of both hands and the ankle I’ve wrapepd around it, I’m holding on and dreading the dark dogwalking mornings in my near future, looming beyond the equinox.)
Back to the point, I really enjoyed this; I hope you don’t mind, I’m quoting you and linking to this from my site today.
Thanks for such a calming, tranquil piece, and for setting the scene so well.
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[…] can read the entire post, 40 Days, 8 Flags, and 1 Mennonite Chir, and it’s all worth it, here. Posted by ombudsben Filed in walking, commute, thoughts, writing, […]
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Terri, you wrote:
“Everyone tries to make sense of this, and brings what they have. The Army Corps of Engineers brings their flags; the Mennonites bring their music, the artist her palette.”
You brought what you had, too, your pen and paper. With them and your strong, clear writer’s voice you have skillfully included us all in that “feeling of tremendous unity.”
Thanks for that.
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the individual voice,
I went to Ground Zero about a year after 9/11. My sister and I were driving near New York City, and decided to stop to pay our respects. She had never been to NYC, and it was only my second time. Being there, being in Manhattan at all, was unnerving. Living in Minneapolis I feel completely safe, entirely immune to terrorism. As in, why would they come to the Midwest? I had an entirely different appreciation for what people in New York City must have had to learn to cope with. I felt really vulnerable, a possible target, like I had to keep checking the sky. I understand (in perhaps the smallest of ways) why you’ve not returned.
I hand it to people in NYC. It takes some steel to pull through to the other side.
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breathepeace,
When I did the writing practice on the 10th Ave. Bridge, it felt like my contribution. I can’t paint, I can’t be a diver, I can’t operate a barge, but I can show up with my notebook. Thanks.
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Ombudsben,
Yes, it is Fall all too early. We’re having an unwelcome cold snap here, it feels like November.
Thanks for the quote on your blog (I’m humbled) and for your comments. After seeing what I saw on the 10th Ave Bridge a few days ago, I find I’m less worried about things that could go wrong in the future. We’ll be okay…eventually.
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Teri, we *are* having quite the cold snap. We left one kitchen window open this morning. And when we got home, it was freezing in here! I closed it and lit the oven for a pizza. It’s too early to turn on the heat, even though it’s getting down into the 30’s tonight. You know how we are here in MN – we wait as long as possible to power up the furnace.
I had forgotten that you had visited NYC and Ground Zero. It’s true, there is something about the Midwest that is kind of insular. At the same time, wasn’t one of the planners of 9/11 taking flight lessons down near Eagan? Crazy world.
I haven’t been to NYC in years. And I’m not fond of big crowds. But my brother visited there last month with his kids and his Dad. I’m pretty sure they went to Ground Zero. But I haven’t checked in with him since then. I’ll have to get the scoop. I am curious about what he experienced.
The thing about showing up – it’s big. Showing up for what is important to us. Showing up for the world. Showing up for others. Showing up for ourselves. Thanks again for writing with us.
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QM,
I would be really interested to hear how your brother and his family experienced Ground Zero…it has been a long time. Six years already. I wonder if everyone remembers where they were when it happened. I was in the principal’s office gathered around a TV screen with the rest of the teachers.
Oh, I absolutely do not subscribe to the “No Furnace Until November” rule that many people abide by. I was toasty last night with the furnace humming. I highly recommend it–haha.
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Yes, I need to call him and find out how it went on that trip. I’m actually excited to hear about it. It was pretty close to the anniversary yesterday, too. So he may have some new insights.
As far as where I was that day – I didn’t hear about it until I arrived at my corporate job that morning, and when I walked down the hall to my desk, no one was to be found. They were all huddled in a conference room glued to the TV. It was dead silent. We all just sat there in disbelief, watching everything unfold. Eventually, everyone went back to their desks and tried to work. But not very successfully.
It was later that I found out another plane went down in Pennsylvania not far from where my sister-in-law grew up. She was pretty shaken. Most of my immediate family lives in PA.
I also remember that I had a Natalie Goldberg workshop scheduled in Taos in late November of that same year. It was a very large workshop of writers. The first day we arrived, Natalie talked a little about the impact of 9/11, and then had us go around the room and introduce ourselves and where we were that day, only a month before. It was very intense. A lot of tears.
There were a few writers from New York and many that had been personally impacted. We then did writing practice and read them. It was very powerful.
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Oh, Teri, about the November rule about furnaces in Minnesota – we did not turn ours on last night! Liz likes to hold out as long as possible. But sometimes I can persuade her otherwise. 8) It was a little chilly this morning. And I have noticed the cats are starting to huddle together to sleep, a sure sign that a chilly Fall is on the way!
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Hey, I’m only in Boston and I had the heater on last night. You Minnosotans are so macho. I had no idea!
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Unfortunately when we went to NYC we went as tourists with specific places on our agenda (prepaid admissions, etc). Although ground zero was on our list of places to visit the time we alloted to this trip did not allow us to visit it.
I have been to NYC before and never felt unsafe. I am more aware of my surroundings than I am at home but I am the more attuned to my surrounds when I am downtown at home. I was really upset that we did not have the time to visit ground zero but I also think that with the construction starting some of the mystique would have been gone for me.
On a positive note, I plan to return to NYC later this year with Mom and I think that ground zero will definitely be a stop on that trip.
As to where I was when the attacks happened, I was at work and was sent home because where I was working was a high profile facility with an increased possibility of terrorist attack. I went home, turned on the TV and sat dumbfounded and numb at what was occurring before my eyes. Returning to work over the next few weeks was stressful for many people in the building because of the possibility of more attacks but I don’t remember it being a great concern for me at the time.
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QM’s Brother – thanks for stopping by. I’ve missed you! Ah, I see. Too much to do in New York. I can see how you might have run out of time. It makes sense about the construction. Still I wonder…maybe you will get a chance to visit with Mom. I wonder what landmarks she wants to see there in New York. I’ll have to check in with her. And you’ll have to keep me posted on the trip. Wish I could go!
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TIV, yes we are aren’t we? It’s that Midwestern resolve. Though it sounds like Teri is more warm-blooded than most Minnesotans with that furnace humming last night. I just have to tease her about it! 8)
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QM,
I can’t imagine a better place to be after 9/11 than in the silent zendo in Taos. What a perfect place to send healing & love to the world, to the people in NYC, rural Pennsylvania, and Washington, D.C.
QM’s Brother,
I hope you’ll check in after you go to New York again. I’d like to hear your impressions, what you felt and saw. When I read your post I was reminded that we all anticipated additional attacks. On 9/11 I remember hearing rumors that the IDS (Minneapolis) had been hit, as well as the Sears Tower in Chicago.
TIV,
Yes, some more macho than others. I don’t like being cold (ever), but am terribly disappointed if we don’t have a few good blizzards. A strange sense of fun, I guess.
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Teri, I’m so relieved to hear you still love a good blizzard. You just can’t take the Minnesota out of the girl!
The Taos zendo *was* a really good place to be that week. I think a lot of healing went on through simply being there and writing together. I found that to be true when we sat together in the Intensive last year, too. Didn’t you?
Life kept rolling along while we were all there – births, deaths, fear, joy, and everything in-between. And we all listened, and sat in silence, and sent healing and love out where we could. Practice is powerful. And, for me, that’s what this piece is about.
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“And we all listened, and sat in silence…”
These words, QM, I love. It makes me long for Taos.
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I went back to the bridge tonight. Every bit of concrete and twisted steel is out of the Mississippi. The river flows unencumbered toward Iowa. I had two friends describe the North Dakota prairie they visited a few years ago. As the abandoned farmsteads vanished, and the wild grass was resuming its former place. Nature had overcome man. Old Man River has, too. For now.
4 flags left. No Mennonites.
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Teri, I saw on the news last night that every last piece of debris was out of the Mississippi. It seems hard to believe. I had the same image – the river flowing on south, with the energy of all that history floating down with her. Imagine the secrets she carries.
Ironically, Liz and I caught the last half of a movie last night about the World Trade Center. Nicolas Cage was in it. The story was about two of the surviving rescue workers that were buried for hours. It was Oliver Stone directed, dramatic, a real tear-jerker. Sure brought up a lot of memories of the first few days after 9/11.
I have noticed a certain peacefulness lately around the I-35 bridge collapse, even with the media. MN DOT finally made a choice about the new builders (controversial), but for many, life moves on. I still see the occasional survivor story and see how it has changed their lives. Those are the stories I’m following. Like the river, hope for the future.
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Furnaces? You people have furnaces, with vents and all, in Minnesota now?
When I lived in Minnesota we had fireplaces, buffalo hides and hot coffee. (Lots and lots of hot coffee.) We never complained. At least we men didn’t. As we were the warmest thing available at night, we men knew a good thing when we had it.
Maybe some of the gals complained, I’m not sure. All’s I recollect is one winter it got so cold all our words froze. just hung there in the air. We had to wait until spring for them all to thaw so we could find out what we’d been talking about.
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Ombudsben,
Ummmm….I thought you were maybe in your 30s or 40s. Looks like maybe closer to 100?
Things in Minnesota have really improved since your day. We have indoor plumbing, electricity, and cars. Hard to believe, but those conveniences have at last moved in from the Coasts. The Dances with Wolves days are gone.
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LOLOLOLOLOL!
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Hah! LOL. 8) Just checking in tonight. Liz and I are cracking up. She glanced over from her psychology book and said, “What’s that about Minnesota, buffalo hides, and hot coffee?” “Just Teri & ben,” I said. You two are a hoot!
Oh, Teri, I saw this post on the WordPress dashboard tonight and it linked to a Mennonite blog called Roll Over Menno. After reading your post, I just had to check it out.
It looks kind of progressive and categorizes itself as post modern. I had not heard that term used to describe Mennonites before (mostly art).
It seems that Thornton Wilder’s not the only one turning over in his grave. Menno Simons is restless, too. Here’s the link in case anyone wants to check it out:
Roll Over Menno (LINK).
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Roll Over Menno….who knew? I guess some of their youngsters are straying from the teachings. We all worry about our young people getting lost in corruption; it looks like one group’s corruption is another group’s sparkling clean behavior.
Four years ago when I had the opportunity to live amongst the Amish of Indiana, I learned that the more strict the District (geographic areas each having their own Bishop who decides the interpretation of the rules), the more they retain their youth. I would have guessed the opposite.
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Teri – Well, let’s just say somewhere between 30 and 100, and closer to 30, although slogging on toward 100. Not always so reluctantly, either; with experience comes new happinesses. And I warm myself with good memories — as I wait for it to get cold enough to turn on the furnace.
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It’s been months since I’ve been to the lookout point where the bridge used to be. I went yesterday, on Saturday morning. It was early, and sunny, and I was the only one looking down at the Mississippi from the 10th Avenue Bridge.
The river still flows freely with no obstructions in the water, but the activity on the banks is intense. I counted 25 men in hard hats, and saw what will be the structures that will hold our new bridge in place. I never get excited about new construction, but I did yesterday. The pillar-like columns look sturdy and attractive and ready.
It’s been nearly seven months. No flags. No Mennonites. But sun, and hope, and a solution. They tell us it will be up by Christmas.
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Teri, thanks so much for coming back and commenting on your post. It’s a real treat for ybonesy and I when our Guests revisit their posts and update us. It really adds a richness to follow progress of a piece over time. And it is something that blogging offers that is not available in publishing in print.
I’m glad you commented on the bridge again. I haven’t been back down there in quite a while. But I was just thinking about it last week because they drained the Mississippi River down by the locks (only a stone’s throw from where the bridge collapsed).
I guess they do it once a year and it’s a big deal for photographers because you can see the remains of Spirit Island (once sacred ground to the Native Americans here), and other evidence of the past that sleeps under the Mississippi River.
I thought of the I-35 bridge when I saw they were draining the locks last week. And wondered if you would be able to see more of what is left underneath everything.
I’m glad progress is being made on the new bridge. So much controversy surrounding that as well. Maybe I’ll make a point of driving that way when I’m downtown next.
Hey, do you know if the River Parkway is open on the side down near the Red Cross yet? That’s my old motorcycle route and I haven’t been down there since last summer. Just curious. I actually saw two motorcycles out yesterday.
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BTW, Teri, I love that you counted the 25 hard hats. Rich detail. I imagine them to be yellow. 8)
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Yes, yellow hard hards and orange vests. White ice floating in the river, black lettering on the construction trailer. Blue sky, green reflective construction gloves, pink-cheeked workers.
Oh, I was going to try to hit all the colors, but I’m drawing blanks on red and purple. I’ll make something up…red cardinals flying over the purple-handled shovels.
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[…] 40 Days, 8 Flags, And 1 Mennonite Choir by Teri Blair […]
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I went to the Fine Arts Show at the Minnesota State Fair today. Front and center are three pictures of the 35W collapse. Two of them won ribbons.
A small crowd surrounds them at all times, quiet and respectful. I wonder, were our artists still too much in shock last year to paint and photograph the bridge for the Fair?
It’s good to be still and remember. It seems we’ll need to keep doing that for a long, long time.
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Teri, that’s pretty cool about the Fine Arts ribbons for the MN bridge collapse work. We’ll be at the Fair this afternoon and will check them out in the historic Art Building.
I think we will be still and remembering for some time to come. Remember when Jude was here early July and we took that walk over the bridge next to the new replacement bridge for the 35-W? The new bridge was just about to join together from each side.
I took a lot of photographs the night we walked out there. It was a beautiful summer night. The sun was just setting. I had not been out there in months to see the bridge. I was kind of in awe at the changes. Yet, at the same time, couldn’t get those old images out of my head of the bridge collapse. Some things have moved on. Yet many are still healing.
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[…] Irvine’s passion for the Parkway, a landmark theater in Minneapolis that closed in 2008; and 40 Days, 8 Flags, And 1 Mennonite Choir and Thornton Wilder & Bridges, both prompted by the August 2007 collapse of 35W bridge in […]
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It’s already been three years since the bridge went down. I talked with friends today, and we have difficulty pulling it back into our consciousness. We remember the facts, and that we were in some form of shock/fear/despair that day. We all recounted our own story, especially how many hours we were on the bridge before the collapse.
Can anyone sustain the clarity we had that day?
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Teri, thanks for the comment about the bridge. I was on vacation this weekend and it wasn’t even in my consciousness. When I got home, I saw it mentioned on the news. But nothing like I thought it would be. I remember that day, how surreal it was. Liz’s mom was flying into town from Wyoming. My mom called from Pennsylvania to ask if we were okay and I hadn’t even seen what had happened yet. We quickly flipped on the TV and were glued to it for weeks. Your comment accentuates why it’s so important that writers, photographers, artists document events at the time they are happening. And that people get their stories down. So we don’t forget.
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[…] Related to posts: 40 Days, 8 Flags, and 1 Mennonite Choir, Memorial — Day & Night, Bridge To Nowhere — The Great Connector, Fear Of […]
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