This would have made a great title for a country song. Alas, lights and Georgia beat me to it. I am already on a Bunny Trail and I have not even started the story I want to share with you. I like to think this is not due to age but rather is proof of a very active intelligent mind without a filter. And that gives me an idea for another section of this blog. “Without a filter” would scare my wife. So, we leave this Bunny Trail for now.
The Wadena Hardware building had cement steps out front and deep stone sills in front of the building’s two large front windows. These sills made a perfect place to hang out in the evening. You could see everything that was happening in downtown Wadena which was not much. You could see every vehicle driving down the main street. There was very little traffic. It was like having an open-air clubhouse.
Of an evening [I have always wanted to write, “of an evening” and now I have. It was not that great.] So, of an evening, a few of us would get together on the hardware “steps” to talk about what kids/young people/teens talk about. I do not remember any of the details of the conversations, but I know we would stay until we knew we needed to be home. I probably had the only curfew which was 10:00PM. We were in high school but none of us had cars, so the home rules were easy to follow.
On this evening, a Sunday as I remember, our small group included me, Neal, Paul, and Evelyn. We were all within a year of each other’s age and had grown up together in the small town of Wadena. We were friends and were very close.
Evelyn was never just “one of the guys” but someone we enjoyed and respected who was a girl. She taught us that girls had real feelings and could be a real friend. And it was fun to spend time with her. And this evening had us totally immersed in the talk.
It was dark, and there was no one walking or driving in town. It was a normal quiet evening in Wadena. Close your eyes – imagine the quiet and total security we were experiencing. It was a very nice night. And then . . .
Are your eyes still closed? [Sorry, it is hard to read with your eyes closed.] Do you remember dropping a flat rock into a creek, pond, river, or other body of water? Do you remember the very loud noise it would make when it hit the water? My wife says it was a “splat”! I want you to imagine the biggest “splat” you ever heard. Now X100!!
“SPLAT” – 100 times louder than you have ever heard!!
We felt the noise more than we heard it. It happened so fast that there was no time to be shocked. And then it happened again!
“SPLAT” -!!
My first thought was to duck but the second noise and push stopped any thought of moving. It was time to figure out what happened and see what danger we were facing.
Remember, there were no cars or people in town. We had heard nothing before the two huge splats. So, we started to look to see what happened. Buildings next to the hardware and across the street were standing and no damage was visible. The sound had seemed to be south of us and looking in that direction there were headlights on one end of the bridge shining in our direction. And then we saw smaller lights behind the headlights. And so, without thinking we might be in danger, we ran to the bridge.
As we got closer, we could see the headlights were on a semi that was stopped near our end of the bridge. There was a tanker trailer hooked to the tractor. It was setting crooked on the bridge and there was dust in the air around the back of the trailer.
We were about a block away when we could see someone on the driver’s side of the cab. As we got closer, we could see him rubbing his head. We must have asked if he was alright and I think he said he was. But one-by-one we began to look more closely at the truck and trailer. And then it was something we did not see that got our attention – there was no bridge floor behind the trailer.
As we got even closer, the dark hole in the bridge floor exposed water running below where the floor had been. And two large sections of the bridge floor were sticking out of the water. We had found the cause of the huge splat – the bridge – a part of our lives – had fallen down. It was my first experience with surreal. And it felt strange.
I do not remember all the details of the rest of the evening. The driver was ok. He was coming across the bridge with a loaded gas tanker when he felt a pull slowing him down. He could see the back end of the trailer going down and then there was a huge jolt as the trailer wheels caught the second floor section which must have had the end of that section still attached to the bridge. This created a ramp for the trailer to get its’ wheels back up on the remaining bridge floor.
When the trailer wheels hit the bridge section it caused the front end of the tractor to jump which caused the driver to hit his head on the metal ceiling of the cab as it came down. Under the circumstances he was very lucky. None of us realized how close this had come to being a fiery explosion with tragic results.
It turned out that two twenty-foot-long sections of concrete, metal and blacktop had come loose, and the weight of the semi had caused them to separate from the rest of the bridge. It was considered a bridge failure due to the age of the bridge.
We were told that several tons of bridge floor had landed flat in the river causing the huge splat and percussion that hit us. It was clearly the most exciting thing that ever happened in Wadena “of an evening”. And we were there to hear and feel it!
The “Old Wadena Bridge” as seen from the South bank of the Volga River. The building on the right side after crossing the bridge is currently still standing. Directly across the main street from this building is now the Wadena Community Church which still holds services. Notice the Details of the structure supporting the bridge from above the roadway. It truly was a classic design. Many of us in Wadena liked the bridge and even today I can see it clearly standing in my memory.
EPILOGUE:
[OK, I did look this up to be sure. There is an “ending” to this story that I want to keep with this post. It is about later events but would make no sense by itself. The closest thing I could think of was “epilogue” and my laptop’s trusty dictionary liked the term.]
MY FIRST EPILOGUE: [Or is it the second one?]
My dad and mother were involved with the Wadena Community Club as members, supporters and often as President. This active group held monthly meetings including the Wadena Community Club’s Annual Soup Dinners featuring Chili, Chicken Noodle Soup, and Oyster Stew. You had a choice of saltine or oyster crackers. I do not remember if there was dessert.
What I do remember is that Jenny was always the cook. She cooked for the school and at one time had run a bar/restaurant. She was a great cook!! One year I got to be her helper at one of the Soup Suppers. That time she was making several very large commercial-size pots of soup. At some point she ran everyone out of the school kitchen except me.
She told me I was the only person that she had ever shown her SECRET INGREDIENT that made her soups the very best anywhere, anytime. Once everyone else was out of the kitchen, she had me come to one of the school refrigerators. She began to hand me one-pound boxes of her secret ingredient. She let me take the secret ingredient out of the boxes, unwrap it and add it to the soup.
I have rarely shared this secret – but that night I added one pound of fresh Wadena Creamery Butter to each pot – all the soups received the same secret ingredient! This butter was freshly made in a wooden churn only one block away from the school. If you knew the butter maker and were nice to him, he would give you a large piece of brownish red waxed paper and put a large scoop of freshly churned butter on the paper as I held the paper in my hand. Need I say I loved that butter!!!
The “secret ingredient” was packaged in a very plain box that was later replaced by this “modern” design. The product never tasted as good from the box as it did when scooped out of the big wooden churn and placed on a large sheet of waxed paper. If you took a cinnamon roll out of its’ cellophane wrapper you could “drag” it through the slab of butter and enjoy a treat that can never be duplicated. Trust me, I have tried many times. I still enjoy trying!
By the way, the soup was awesome – even the oyster stew – if you took out the oysters and drank the buttery milk!! Oh my!!
Now that we have gone down this bunny trail, I must end this post without the rest of the bridge story. I will put that in a separate post. Watch for “The Day That the Bridge Fell Down in Wadena – Part Two.” I promise it will be as good as this Part One.
You will want to read Part Two so I can connect Wadena Butter with the Wadena Bridge.
I am sorry, but I must do this: This was Wadena’s first B & B!
Did I already say “Oh my”?
The “Old Wadena Bridge” was a classic design that made the view entering Wadena from the South a look at history. It was one lane and very narrow. The bridge was constructed of steel and looked like it would stand for a very long time.
