Seven Bridges…

Oh, there’s hella more bridges than that in life, but the Eagles seven ain’t bad.

There are stars
In the Southern sky
Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road


We start life flat on our back. Cross the bridge to upright, and finally to our feet. Under parent’s watchful eye for years ,then finally “we’re going to the grocery store, will you be alright?” (A bridge for the parents as well.)

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

We go thru acne, friend cruelty, starter bras, hair “there” actually growing…

Real world. Shit, I gotta work? Won’t u buy me groceries no mo?

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn form here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

We go down this highway of life, crossing the bridges – going to see grandparents. Boom. One day one.

We become parents ourselves, and the number of ‘cars’ on the bridge slow our personal pleasures down. We watch them go from flat, upright, walking, and soon we leave ‘em and head for the Piggly Wiggly.


There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of time sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road..

Outta the nest, shoo fly, shoo. Ahhh, now I can play softball, watch whatever TV show I wanna – fly robin fly.

Uh oh. 1 for 5. This bridge sucks! So I/we continue on, crossing all these bridges in our lifetime.

When I think bridge, I thinka the dentist. Never liked the dentist. A “have to”. Nuh uh, think again! (said ole’ green teeth.) I would likes me onea them chairs with the neck rest on it though (seriously.)

Or old ladies, pleasantly plump, gray, flowery dresses – playing bridge. Will grannies of tomorrow (hell, maybe today) gather and have Pac-man parties?.. “Come on over at noon Myrtle, we’re having a Super Mario contest.”

Two blondes. Sisters. One on either sidea the river. “How do I get to the other side” one yells out. One on the udder side, cups her hands to forma megaphone, hollers back “you ARE on the other side.”

Coworkers. Former co-workers. Family. “In the day” we easily crossed those bridges to visit, see frequently. Now, same bridges, harder to cross. How come?

Up down. Across. Rollercoaster. Bridges are lifelike. They take us from this era to that era. Boomers with Generation X, Y. Ridin’ a bike to $4 a gallon gas. Transistors to IPods. Big Chief to laptops. Two cans, string, to cell. Snail mail to text.

Pampers to Depends with a lotta shit inbetween. Flat, to flat, and all the bridges in between. I likes bridges. Bridging the gap of equality for ethnicities, races, females, discrimination against us old farts in job hunting because we can no longer lift. (Victor, calm down.) IT’S TRUE! Just read in paper this morning (yes, fitty-four cent Mickey D’s, free paper) “On average, it takes those 50 and up 22 weeks to find a job, and younger than 50, 16 weeks.”… We’re good! We care! We don’t bite hand! Feed us!

Next time ya cross a bridge… whether it’s finding something you can’t do as well as you usedta be able to… or, perhaps you’ve learned a new skill you never thought you coulda…

Or mebbe you really are crossing a river, creek, stream on a bridge.. enjoy the beauty of life. March on. Rock on. Eyes wide open.

Down the Seven Bridges Road..

Seeya! Next time I bridge the hesitancy of no creativeness (and get a new GD keyboard, fan fell off, ruined my keyboard. Rollercoaster. Up, down. Across. Bridges.)

Loveya, Victurd.