[Critique Group 2] submission for August 25 critique session, 1210 words

Alice Massa alicejmassa at gmail.com
Fri Aug 19 03:49:07 EDT 2022


Dear writer friends of Group 2,


     Please excuse my being two-and-a-half hours-plus late in submitting 
the following piece for our critique session on the 25th.  When you read 
the piece, you may understand one of the reasons for my tardiness.  I 
tried numerous approaches for this piece and even initially wanted to 
write the piece as  a poem. Please read the following when you are in a 
good and strong frame of mind--not when you are tired at the end of the day.


With thanks and good wishes,

Alice


*Tales and Tragedies of the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge*

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

When my first Leader Dog Keller and I moved to Milwaukee in 1991, this 
city had nineteen drawbridges:now the number is twenty.Although I never 
had a fear of crossing bridges, I discovered that I did have a fear of 
crossing drawbridges.Thus, for the first few years that I lived in 
Wisconsin and worked full-time at Milwaukee Area Technical College, my 
Golden Retriever and I took the city bus for one portion of our route 
from the college, disembarked the bus at the major intersection of 
Kilbourn and Water (just east of the Kilbourn Avenue Drawbridge), and 
walk the other portion of our route.

Finally, I tired of waiting for the bus which infrequently passed by us 
when the bus was already filled.Additionally, I felt less safe, 
especially at night, when my guide dog and I stood at the bus 
stop:walking briskly seemed the better choice—even if crossing one of 
the city’s drawbridges was part of the alternative.

Of course, the first few crossings were the most challenging.Eventually, 
I crossed the highest-pitched State Street Bridge with ease.This bridge 
is a historic bridge made of wood.Later, with my second Leader Dog 
Heather, I became comfortable with crossing the Kilbourn Drawbridge, as 
well as the Wells Street and Wisconsin Avenue Drawbridges.While the 
Kilbourn Bridge has a moderate pitch and has the longest span, the Wells 
and Wisconsin Bridges are virtually flat; one notices more of a metallic 
sound when crossing these two bridges.

During the earlier years of my living in Milwaukee, each bridge had its 
own bridgetender.In more recent years, one bridgetender views the video 
cameras of five or six bridges and is responsible for remotely 
activating the alarm signals, lowering the barricades, raising and 
lowering the bridges when the bridge is clear of vehicular and 
pedestrian traffic.With the bridge in the up position, each of the two 
portions of the bridge is at a ninety-degree angle to the road (or 
non-moveable section of the bridge).Obviously, these bridges over the 
Milwaukee River are raised and lowered for the sailboats and other tall 
water vessels that make their way from the river to Lake Michigan.

Despite all of my qualms about crossing these bridges and crossing them 
in all types of weather—high winds, icy conditions, snow-covered, rain, 
sleet, and summer’s heat—merely one time did I experience an minor 
accident on one of the bridges.Only two semesters did my teaching 
schedule involve a Saturday morning class of four hours and 25 
minutes.Those Saturday students were my most mature and dedicated; thus, 
my Leader Dog Heather and I were walking home in a happy mood on that 
sunny day with very little traffic.With the refurbishing of the State 
Street Bridge in progress, I took the Kilbourn Avenue 
Drawbridge.Although this bridge had been under some minor construction, 
I deduced that no crew would be working on that Saturday.I was 
wrong.Unbeknownst to me, an unusual piece of construction equipment was 
on the side of the approach of the bridge.  One large “arm” of the 
machine stuck out into my path—at my eye level, but well above the head 
of my Yellow Labrador.I do not know if the machine moved right at the 
time of our passing or if Heather missed the overhead object; but the 
object hit my temple, broke my glasses (with side shields), and startled 
me.Immediately, I realized that my glasses were broken, a bump had 
already surfaced at the corner of my eye, and my left eye was 
swelling.Next, I became aware of two or three construction workers 
nearby.I was quite perturbed because they were laughing at me.I told 
them that I was calling the police.Unfortunately, I was so rattled by 
the incident, I could not successfully use my flip-phone.I insisted that 
one of the men call the police.The foreman seemed to do so; however, 
after waiting about a half hour, I decided to walk the remainder of the 
way home because I was feeling faint.

Thankfully, Heather and I arrived home safely; and I placed cold 
compresses on my head and eye.Shortly after, the doorbell rang.A police 
officer did come to check on me and take my statement.The very kind 
policeman (and later the head of the Department of Public Works) 
encouraged me to press charges against the company or to, at least 
insist that the company pay for my specialized glasses.Ultimately, I 
decided that I only wanted a letter of apology and did receive one.

One other incident I recall about the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge happened on 
another fair-weather day.Leader Dog Heather and I were heading west 
across the drawbridge at just shy of the peak (or breaking point) of the 
bridge when the alarm bells began to ring the warning for the raising of 
the drawbridge.Without a second to hesitate, I somehow decided to 
continue forward on our path and try to hurry.This experience was, 
indeed, a heart-racing moment; however, most gratefully, my second guide 
dog and I walked rapidly to the other side of the bridge and to the 
sidewalk—to blessed safety.Usually, I would hear the warning bells from 
the bridge immediately to the north or to the south so that I knew what 
would be happening; however, that day, I was taken unaware.This incident 
did not deter me from using the drawbridges for our walking routes to 
our destinations in the city.Since I retired from teaching, my current 
Leader Dog Willow and I no longer need to cross the drawbridges on a 
daily basis:we take a variety of walking routes east of the river.

I think of these drawbridge experiences this week for one reason—one 
tragic reason.On Monday, August 15, around noon,a 77-year-old man who 
had some difficulty walking and who wore one hearing aid was reading his 
i-pad as he and his wife were crossing the Kilbourn Avenue 
Drawbridge.They were walking to the 12:15 Mass at Old Saint Mary’s 
Church—a route my guide dogs and I have known very well.The man was 
retired from a 36-year career as a religious writer for the newspaper in 
Providence, Rhode Island.Throughout his impressive career, he 
interviewed Pope John Paul II, the Reverend Billy Graham, the Dalai 
Lama, and many others around the world.The former newspaperman and his 
wife were in Milwaukee for a vacation and were staying at a nearby 
hotel; they were to return to Rhode Island on Monday.

However, on that sunny afternoon, on their way to church, they were 
crossing the bridge when the bridgetender, from his remote location, 
activated the very loud alarm bells and the raising of the bridge.The 
wife was enough ahead of her husband that she was able to hurry to 
safety; however, her husband had to grab the side rail of the bridge.The 
bridge continued upward.The 77-year-old man held onto the rail for one 
to two minutes.Then, he fell.

Why does a life well-lived end in such a gruesome way?

Number of words:1210


*Tales and Tragedies of the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge*

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

When my first Leader Dog Keller and I moved to Milwaukee in 1991, this 
city had nineteen drawbridges:now the number is twenty.Although I never 
had a fear of crossing bridges, I discovered that I did have a fear of 
crossing drawbridges.Thus, for the first few years that I lived in 
Wisconsin and worked full-time at Milwaukee Area Technical College, my 
Golden Retriever and I took the city bus for one portion of our route 
from the college, disembarked the bus at the major intersection of 
Kilbourn and Water (just east of the Kilbourn Avenue Drawbridge), and 
walk the other portion of our route.

Finally, I tired of waiting for the bus which infrequently passed by us 
when the bus was already filled.Additionally, I felt less safe, 
especially at night, when my guide dog and I stood at the bus 
stop:walking briskly seemed the better choice—even if crossing one of 
the city’s drawbridges was part of the alternative.

Of course, the first few crossings were the most challenging.Eventually, 
I crossed the highest-pitched State Street Bridge with ease.This bridge 
is a historic bridge made of wood.Eventually, with my second Leader Dog 
Heather, I became comfortable with crossing the Kilbourn Drawbridge, as 
well as the Wells Street and Wisconsin Avenue Drawbridges.While the 
Kilbourn Bridge has a moderate pitch and has the longest span, the Wells 
and Wisconsin Bridges are virtually flat; one notices more of a metallic 
sound when crossing these two bridges.

During the earlier years of my living in Milwaukee, each bridge had its 
own bridgetender.In more recent years, one bridgetender views the video 
cameras of five or six bridges and is responsible for remotely 
activating the alarm signals, lowering the barricades, raising and 
lowering the bridges when the bridge is clear of vehicular and 
pedestrian traffic.With the bridge in the up position, each of the two 
portions of the bridge is at a ninety-degree angle to the road (or 
non-moveable section of the bridge).Obviously, these bridges over the 
Milwaukee River are raised and lowered for the sailboats and other tall 
water vessels that make their way from the river to Lake Michigan.

Despite all of my qualms about crossing these bridges and crossing them 
in all types of weather—high winds, icy conditions, snow-covered, rain, 
sleet, and summer’s heat—merely one time did I experience an minor 
accident on one of the bridges.Only two semesters did my teaching 
schedule involve a Saturday morning class of four hours and 25 
minutes.Those Saturday students were my most mature and dedicated; thus, 
my Leader Dog Heather and I were walking home in a happy mood on that 
sunny day with very little traffic.With the refurbishing of the State 
Street Bridge in progress, I took the Kilbourn Avenue 
Drawbridge.Although this bridge had been under some minor construction, 
I deduced that no crew would be working on that Saturday.I was 
wrong.Unbeknownst to me, an unusual piece of construction equipment was 
on the side of the bridge, as one was leaving the bridge.One large “arm” 
of the machine stuck out into my path—at my eye level, but well above 
the head of my Yellow Labrador.I do not know if the machine moved right 
at the time of our passing or if Heather missed the overhead object; but 
the object hit my temple, broke my glasses (with side shields), and 
startled me.Immediately, I realized that my glasses were broken, a bump 
had already surfaced at the corner of my eye, and my left eye was 
swelling.Next, I became aware of two or three construction workers 
nearby.I was quite perturbed because they were laughing at me.I told 
them that I was calling the police.Unfortunately, I was so rattled by 
the incident, I could not successfully use my flip-phone.I insisted that 
one of the men call the police.The foreman seemed to do so; however, 
after waiting about a half hour, I decided to walk the remainder of the 
way home because I was feeling faint.

Thankfully, Heather and I arrived home safely; and I placed cold 
compresses on my head and eye.Shortly after, the doorbell rang.A police 
officer did come to check on me and take my statement.The very kind 
policeman (and later the head of the Department of Public Works) 
encouraged me to press charges against the company or to, at least 
insist that the company pay for my specialized glasses.Ultimately, I 
decided that I only wanted a letter of apology and did receive one.

One other incident I recall about the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge happened on 
another fair-weather day.Leader Dog Heather and I were heading west 
across the drawbridge at just shy of the peak (or breaking point) of the 
bridge when the alarm bells began to ring the warning for the raising of 
the drawbridge.Without a second to hesitate, I somehow decided to 
continue forward on our path and try to hurry.This experience was, 
indeed, a heart-racing moment; however, most gratefully, my second guide 
dog and I walked rapidly to the other side of the bridge and to the 
sidewalk—to blessed safety.Usually, I would hear the warning bells from 
the bridge immediately to the north or to the south so that I knew what 
would be happening; however, that day, I was taken unaware.This incident 
did not deter me from using the drawbridges for our walking routes to 
our destinations in the city.Since I retired from teaching, my current 
Leader Dog Willow and I no longer need to cross the drawbridges on a 
daily basis:we take a variety of walking routes east of the river.

I think of these drawbridge experiences this week for one reason—one 
tragic reason.On Monday, August 15, around noon,a 77-year-old man who 
had some difficulty walking and who wore one hearing aid was reading his 
i-pad as he and his wife were crossing the Kilbourn Avenue 
Drawbridge.They were walking to the 12:15 Mass at Old Saint Mary’s 
Church—a route my guide dogs and I have known very well.The man was 
retired from a 36-year career as a religious writer for the newspaper in 
Providence, Rhode Island.Throughout his impressive career, he 
interviewed Pope John Paul II, the Reverend Billy Graham, the Dalai 
Lama, and many others around the world.The former newspaperman and his 
wife were in Milwaukee for a vacation and were staying at a nearby 
hotel; they were to return to Rhode Island on Monday.

However, on that sunny afternoon, on their way to church, they were 
crossing the bridge when the bridgetender, from his remote location, 
activated the very loud alarm bells and the raising of the bridge.The 
wife was enough ahead of her husband that she was able to hurry to 
safety; however, her husband had to grab the side rail of the bridge.The 
bridge continued upward.The 77-year-old man held onto the rail for one 
to two minutes.Then, he fell.

Why does a life well-lived end in such a gruesome way?

Number of words:1210
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