No, the nation can't be turned into a museum, nor a series of monuments. Not every acre trodden on by Civil War soldiers can be set aside. Washington slept in a lot of places. As a songwriter of note once put it, turn us all into Methuselah, and where are we gonna park?
A nation moves onward. Especially a young energetic nation such as this. Always building and rebuilding, creating and recreating. And to do that, some things must be torn down.
Emphasis on "some."
The old Broadway Bridge in downtown Little Rock came tumbling down, eventually, and was replaced by something shiny and new and even pretty in its own way as we get used to it. The River Market has been born again, thanks to city planners who knew what they were doing. There's a new library going up in Sherwood. Onward!
But even June brides need something old to go with something new.
Once again, we don't understand why the government needs to tear down the Old White River Bridge in Clarendon. It seems that maybe the paperwork was in order and somebody signed in the right place and the government went into motion. And like a battleship, government doesn't often turn on a dime. Call it momentum.
But those who oppose the bridge's final demise have their own momentum. And they've taken to the public prints to express their desires to keep the thing up. The other day, on these pages, the vice president of the Friends of the Historic White River Bridge noted that it'll cost $11.3 million to tear down the bridge. But about half that to make it suitable for walking and biking and viewing.
We haven't read how the old bridge is hurting anything. The new bridge is taking traffic now, and folks zip along to points beyond on their hurried way. But a handful of community leaders in Clarendon want to keep the old lady up, too, so folks can go a little slower on her and take in the view. Which is tremendous. Imagine one day taking a sack lunch to watch the Big Woods below, and the bear and deer at play.
Or taxpayers can put up twice as much money to blow it away.
Aw, let's keep the old gal up. Surely there's a United States senator or two, home on recess next week, who could tour the place, talk to the locals, and perhaps convince the agencies in charge to give this thing another think. Call the bridge not only a connection between two points on a map, but to our past. And, as the man once said of the past in the South, the past isn't dead here, it's not even past.
Or, as an alternative, maybe somebody in the bureaucracy could come up with a good reason why the old bridge must come down. And share that reason with the rest of us.
Editorial on 02/17/2018