[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments on Alice's sub

Wed Aug 31 10:29:59 EDT 2022

This piece is well written. 

I  don’tunderstand how people can be so dumb 

as to laugh at another’s trauma.  

Your piece gives a history of the bridges 

and explains the situation very well. 

I had no trouble understanding  the events. 

The circumstances were frightening

. Howe is it possible 

for there to be an inadequate warning time tomove out of danger 

before the bridges are raised? 

My reaction is anger 

and wanting to throttle the people responsible. . 

Your computer gives two copies of the events. 

The first one has problems, 

which the second version clears up. 

I’m sure this is a  result of your new systems , 

and that you did not intend for the first copyto be included.

Alice sub for August 22

Dear writer friends of Group 2,

    Please excuse my beingtwo-and-a-half hours-plus late in submitting the following piece for ourcritique session on the 25th.  When you read the piece, you may understandone of the reasons for my tardiness.  I tried numerous approaches for thispiece 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--notwhen you are tired at the end of the day.

With thanks and good wishes,

Alice

Tales and Tragedies of the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge

byAlice Jane-Marie Massa

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

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

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

                Duringthe earlier years of my living in Milwaukee, each bridge had its ownbridgetender.  In more recent years, one bridgetender views the videocameras of five or six bridges and is responsible for remotely activating thealarm signals, lowering the barricades, raising and lowering the bridges whenthe bridge is clear of vehicular and pedestrian traffic.  With thebridge in the up position, each of the two portions of the bridge is at aninety-degree angle to the road (or non-moveable section of thebridge).  Obviously, these bridges over the Milwaukee River areraised and lowered for the sailboats and other tall water vessels that maketheir way from the river to Lake Michigan.

                Despiteall of my qualms about crossing these bridges and crossing them in all types ofweather—high winds, icy conditions, snow-covered, rain, sleet, and summer’sheat—merely one time did I experience an minor accident on one of thebridges.  Only two semesters did my teaching schedule involve aSaturday morning class of four hours and 25 minutes.  Those Saturdaystudents were my most mature and dedicated; thus, my Leader Dog Heather and Iwere walking home in a happy mood on that sunny day with very littletraffic.  With the refurbishing of the State Street Bridge inprogress, I took the Kilbourn Avenue Drawbridge.  Although thisbridge had been under some minor construction, I deduced that no crew would beworking on that Saturday.  I was wrong.  Unbeknownst to me,an unusual piece of construction equipment was on the side of the approach ofthe bridge.  One large “arm” of the machine stuck out into my path—at myeye level, but well above the head of my Yellow Labrador.  I do notknow if the machine moved right at the time of our passing or if Heather missedthe overhead object; but the object hit my temple, broke my glasses (with sideshields), and startled me.  Immediately, I realized that my glasseswere broken, a bump had already surfaced at the corner of my eye, and my lefteye was swelling.  Next, I became aware of two or three constructionworkers nearby.  I was quite perturbed because they were laughing atme.  I told them that I was calling thepolice.  Unfortunately, I was so rattled by the incident, I could notsuccessfully use my flip-phone.  I insisted that one of the men callthe police.  The foreman seemed to do so; however, after waitingabout a half hour, I decided to walk the remainder of the way home because Iwas feeling faint. 

                Thankfully,Heather and I arrived home safely; and I placed cold compresses on my head and

 eye.  Shortly after, the doorbell rang.  Apolice officer did come to check on me and take my statement.  Thevery 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 thatthe company pay for my specialized glasses.  Ultimately, I decidedthat I only wanted a letter of apology and did receive one. 

                Oneother incident I recall about the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge happened on anotherfair-weather day.   Leader Dog Heather and I were heading west acrossthe drawbridge at just shy of the peak (or breaking point) of the bridge whenthe alarm bells began to ring the warning for the raising of thedrawbridge.  Without a second to hesitate, I somehow decided tocontinue forward on our path and try to hurry. This experience was, indeed,a heart-racing moment; however, most gratefully, my second guide dog and Iwalked rapidly to the other side of the bridge and to the sidewalk—to blessedsafety.  Usually, I would hear the warning bells from the bridgeimmediately to the north or to the south so that I knew what would behappening; however, that day, I was taken unaware.  This incident didnot deter me from using the drawbridges for our walking routes to ourdestinations in the city.  Since I retired from teaching, my currentLeader Dog Willow and I no longer need to cross the drawbridges on a dailybasis:  we take a variety of walking routes east of the river.

                Ithink of these drawbridge experiences this week for one reason—one tragicreason.  On Monday, August 15, around noon,  a 77-year-oldman who had some difficulty walking and who wore one hearing aid was readinghis i-pad as he and his wife were crossing the Kilbourn AvenueDrawbridge.  They were walking to the 12:15 Mass at Old Saint Mary’sChurch—a route my guide dogs and I have known very well. The man wasretired from a 36-year career as a religious writer for the newspaper inProvidence, Rhode Island.  Throughout his impressive career, heinterviewed Pope John Paul II, the Reverend Billy Graham, the  DalaiLama, and many others around the world.  The former newspaperman andhis 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 bridgewhen the bridgetender, from his remote location, activated the very loud alarmbells and the raising of the bridge.  The wife was enough ahead ofher husband that she was able to hurry to safety; however, her husband had tograb the side rail of the bridge.  The bridge continuedupward.  The 77-year-old man held onto the rail for one to twominutes.  Then, he fell. 

                Whydoes a life well-lived end in such a gruesome way? 

Number of words:  1210

Tales and Tragedies of the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge

byAlice Jane-Marie Massa

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

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

                Ofcourse, the first few crossings were the mostchallenging.  Eventually, I crossed the highest-pitched State StreetBridge with ease.  This bridge is a historic bridge made ofwood.  Eventually, with my second Leader Dog Heather, I becamecomfortable with crossing the Kilbourn Drawbridge, as well as the Wells Streetand Wisconsin Avenue Drawbridges.  While the Kilbourn Bridge has amoderate pitch and has the longest span, the Wells and Wisconsin Bridges arevirtually flat; one notices more of a metallic sound when crossing these twobridges.

                Duringthe earlier years of my living in Milwaukee, each bridge had its ownbridgetender.  In more recent years, one bridgetender views the videocameras of five or six bridges and is responsible for remotely activating thealarm signals, lowering the barricades, raising and lowering the bridges whenthe bridge is clear of vehicular and pedestrian traffic.  With thebridge in the up position, each of the two portions of the bridge is at aninety-degree angle to the road (or non-moveable section of thebridge).  Obviously, these bridges over the Milwaukee River areraised and lowered for the sailboats and other tall water vessels that maketheir way from the river to Lake Michigan.

                Despiteall of my qualms about crossing these bridges and crossing them in all types ofweather—high winds, icy conditions, snow-covered, rain, sleet, and summer’sheat—merely one time did I experience an minor accident on one of the bridges.  Onlytwo semesters did my teaching schedule involve a Saturday morning class of fourhours and 25 minutes.  Those Saturday students were my most matureand dedicated; thus, my Leader Dog Heather and I were walking home in a happymood on that sunny day with very little traffic.  With therefurbishing of the State Street Bridge in progress, I took the Kilbourn AvenueDrawbridge.  Although this bridge had been under some minorconstruction, I deduced that no crew would be working on thatSaturday.  I was wrong.  Unbeknownst to me, an unusualpiece of construction equipment was on the side of the bridge, as one wasleaving the bridge.  One large “arm” of the machine stuck out into mypath—at my eye level, but well above the head of my Yellow Labrador.  Ido not know if the machine moved right at the time of our passing or if Heathermissed the overhead object; but the object hit my temple, broke my glasses(with side shields), and startled me.  Immediately, I realized thatmy 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 threeconstruction workers nearby.  I was quite perturbed because they werelaughing at me.  I told them that I was calling thepolice.  Unfortunately, I was so rattled by the incident, I could notsuccessfully use my flip-phone.  I insisted that one of the men callthe police.  The foreman seemed to do so; however, after waitingabout a half hour, I decided to walk the remainder of the way home because Iwas feeling faint. 

                Thankfully,Heather and I arrived home safely; and I placed cold compresses on my head andeye.  Shortly after, the doorbell rang.  A police officerdid 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 presscharges against the company or to, at least insist that the company pay for myspecialized glasses.  Ultimately, I decided that I only wanted aletter of apology and did receive one. 

                Oneother incident I recall about the Kilbourn Avenue Bridge happened on anotherfair-weather day.  Leader Dog Heather and I were heading west acrossthe drawbridge at just shy of the peak (or breaking point) of the bridge whenthe alarm bells began to ring the warning for the raising of thedrawbridge.  Without a second to hesitate, I somehow decided tocontinue forward on our path and try to hurry.  This experience was,indeed, a heart-racing moment; however, most gratefully, my second guide dogand I walked rapidly to the other side of the bridge and to the sidewalk—toblessed safety.  Usually, I would hear the warning bells from thebridge 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 determe from using the drawbridges for our walking routes to our destinations in thecity.  Since I retired from teaching, my current Leader Dog Willowand I no longer need to cross the drawbridges on a daily basis:  wetake a variety of walking routes east of the river.

                Ithink of these drawbridge experiences this week for one reason—one tragicreason.  On Monday, August 15, around noon,  a 77-year-oldman who had some difficulty walking and who wore one hearing aid was readinghis i-pad as he and his wife were crossing the Kilbourn AvenueDrawbridge.  They were walking to the 12:15 Mass at Old Saint Mary’sChurch—a route my guide dogs and I have known very well.  The man wasretired from a 36-year career as a religious writer for the newspaper inProvidence, Rhode Island.  Throughout his impressive career, heinterviewed Pope John Paul II, the Reverend Billy Graham, the  DalaiLama, and many others around the world.  The former newspaperman andhis 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 whenthe bridgetender, from his remote location, activated the very loud alarm bellsand the raising of the bridge.  The wife was enough ahead of herhusband that she was able to hurry to safety; however, her husband had to grabthe side rail of the bridge.  The bridge continuedupward.  The 77-year-old man held onto the rail for one to twominutes.  Then, he fell. 

                Whydoes a life well-lived end in such a gruesome way? 

Number of words:  1210

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Leonard I. Tuchyner, Author

https://www.dldbooks.com/tuchyner/

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