Oh, it dawned a beautiful morning. I woke up to the delightful surprise that my building's super had chosen this day to turn the heat on, and the sun was shining clear beams along our street. The cozy, peaceful feeling stayed with me as I bundled into a thermal shirt and chunky sweater for this morning's challenge: a bright and early walk across the George Washington Bridge.
I have been looking forward to walking across the bridge, but I knew it would be a different experience from walking across the Golden Gate Bridge or the Brooklyn Bridge. There's no manicured garden at the lead up; no wooden promenade crowded with pedestrians. No crowds are waiting to rent bicycles; no one is fingering a ring in his pocket or getting down on one knee in the center. This is a business bridge.
Unfortunately, sometimes that's the business of dying. I have a friend who has always hated this bridge; a teacher at her high school in Brooklyn jumped from the bridge while she was a student. It wasn't until she found a job in Northern Manhattan that the bridge was a landmark in every day life, no longer looming as a reminder of death. I remembered her teacher this morning, as well as Tyler Clementi, who committed suicide the same fall that I moved to New York. So while I set off on my challenge this morning, I wasn't just thinking of my own journey between New York and New Jersey but of the others who have been drawn to the bridge for far more difficult journeys.
The sun was bright as I stepped onto the walkway, burning golden outlines around passersby and pilings. It speckled the apartment buildings below me and sprayed across the tops of trees. To the north, the Palisades faded into the water. Headlights twinkled from the Henry Hudson Parkway through a break in the trees. To the south, trucks passed by, carrying milk, produce, or machinery into Manhattan. The smog from their tails floated around us, making my head hurt, and clinging to the skyline.
Just before the first tower, I stopped and looked at the rocks below. I held my camera and took some shots of the logs lying against the rocks and a little island that stood in the breakers. I stepped out from behind a pole and back onto the walkway and saw a security guard walking towards me, ashen and with purpose. Then he looked relieved and said, "I didn't see the camera in your hand. When you stopped there I was scared. We have a lot of suicides here. I was scared."
HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:
This challenge felt like a physical feat. It was cold and windy, and the smog from the passing traffic almost made me turn around.
WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:
The line that separates us life from death and us from one another is thin. When the security guard told me he was scared for my safety, the thought crossed my mind - but, surely he doesn't think I look like I would kill myself. Of course, I realized, anyone could look like that.
Anyone could be, at any moment, the person in danger or in need. And that person could easily be me. I know I have struggled and suffered, been burdened with sadness. My life, for all its tremendous blessings, has had low moments and dark nights. But I'm still here, still living. What makes me different from those who couldn't go on? Am I braver, or stronger, or smarter, or wiser? I don't think that I am. I feel the grip of providence and grace. And I want that grace for the others, too.
When I started this project, I considered asking my readers to contribute to a relavant cause or charity each day, and then I decided I didn't want to do even that. I wanted to let the blog be just for your enjoyment, no strings attached. (I hope it's that!) But today I decided to make an exception. If you'd like, find out how you can help to prevent suicide.
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