Of blogs, bridges and mystery

In a comment, Douglas says I should explain the significance of the bridge in the upper left corner of this blog.

To begin with the basics, it's the Hwy. 101 bridge over Yaquina Bay at Newport, Oregon. It's a beautiful bridge, built in 1936 when Oregon was still a distant place and when Depression work projects were building highways and landmarks around the state. (Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood was built by the WPA, also in 1936.)

It's there to replace the lighthouse that comes with this Blogger template. It's a nice lighthouse, but I don't want my template to look like everybody's template, even though I'd be at sea without the coding it incorporates. So my photo replaces the Blogger lighthouse photo.

The rocks at the bottom right are part of the original template. I think the idea is that the blog is in the space between the lighthouse and the sea. For now, they go well enough with the bridge, but both bridge and rocks will change as the mood strikes me.

The deeper question is why a bridge, even one of the most beautiful bridges in the world?

A bridge is a mystery, spanning chasms, linking unconnected things and carrying travelers over whatever dangers--or delights--might lurk below. It at once unites (horizontally) and separates (vertically). It's a metaphor for Christ (Bridge between God and man) and man (bridge between spirit and matter), for translators and historians and storytellers. The archetypal bridge, the one that makes us feel its bridgeness most intensely, is a creaky, crumbling span miles above an impassible gulch. In its most familiar form, fast-moving traffic uses it to flow fearlessly, awelessly, across slow-moving rivers. But even at that, kids hold their breaths as they cross, so that they won't drown if it breaks.