I've been to the Bay Area dozens of times in my life. I have seen the Golden Gate Bridge many times, but this time, it was different. Maybe because Dash knew so much history about the bridge; perhaps it is because this was the first time I crossed it; whatever the reason, it captured my attention and I thought about it alot as I drove home. Yesterday, I did my laundry, called Mom, recreated my resume, took a really long bath, groomed my Einstein eyebrows, removed any stray whiskers, planned my route for job hunting today, and read about the Golden Gate Bridge, aka, the gateway to death. The Golden Gate bridge is the number one choice for suicide with the highest rate of success. That blew my mind. There is a great article in the New Yorker by Tad Friend I came across during my browsing yesterday, it was written in 2003, but still tells the sad story, which I am sure has not changed much in the last five or six years. Still no jump net, and a four and a half foot safety railing to climb over. I am sure those folks allocating the money are saying, fuck 'em, if they are crazy enough to jump off that bridge, maybe we should just let them. The area suicide prevention centers heartily disagree with that stance, as you might imagine, but alas, they don't have the money either.
We went to Coit Tower Saturday morning, well more like noon. The first thing Dash said as we got out of the car, was " My god look at the bridge." We all went to the far wall to check it out. All you could see was the bright red peaks of the bridge high above the low fog surrounding the bottom of the bridge. The fog seemed odd because the day was so very bright and sunny. It was the first time I'd had only one layer of clothes on and no jacket since I left LA, simply glorious.
Later after we closed the pool hall at and took a cab back to the hotel, we decided to drive across the bridge and go to The Point, a spot in Sausalito Dash had sent me pictures of in the past, really just an abandoned military fort with a trail out to the edge of the cliff on the west side of the bridge. When we crossed the bridge, it was somewhere near 3:30a and crystal clear all the way to Oakland, stars glowing bright and shiny, and the bright red bridge illuminated in the night sky. It was really quite a spectacular sight, I was so happy we went. I was not lucky enough to get any decent pics, but this was my favorite because the lights look like little saxophones, which looks like a J, and was kind of like Josh sending his love at that moment..ok, ok, that's just how my brain works, I'll move on.
A couple of short hours later, I was coming back to Sausalito with Rachel and the kids, via the Richmond Bridge and found myself with another completely different view, this time looking up as a child would, in awe and vulnerable, thinking about how much pain someone has to be in to jump off that bridge. Man, that's gotta be a really bad way to go. I turn around and behold life, fresh and beautiful in my nieces and nephew, I think about the young men I have left sleeping in the hotel room, and all I could be was grateful, grateful, grateful that I am filled with so much love there is no room for that kind of pain.
I would see the bridge one more time that morning and it filled me with wonder and delight all over again.
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