An Observation and a Prediction, Too...

My friend, Skip Schaible, sent me this photo at 11:18 this morning. Most likely, the vast majority simply see the high water shown here and remark, "So what's new?" I, though, along with some other old-timers, see a lot more when they look at this photo.

For example, I invite your attention to the left catwalk, which, as evidenced here, is totally submerged, except for the furthermost end post. Note, however, that the catwalk on the right appears to still be completely out of the water. A "newbie" probably would dismiss this difference without giving it a second thought, but those of us who have been around here a good spell, can't help but see this situation as a signal that something is going to happen if repairs aren't effected in the near future.

You see, in days gone by, when the catwalk on the right was "high and dry" as reflected here, you also still could see dry patches on the left catwalk. The problem reflected in this photo stems from the fact that someone carried a "good" idea too far. They should have stopped short of piling rocks against the end of that left catwalk. Notice how much that end post is leaning--that's not an optical illusion, I assure you.

I'm betting that, in time, with the constant pressure of those rocks on the end of that left catwalk, coupled with the additional pressure exerted by high water like you see here, a part if not all of that same catwalk is going to turn loose and wash away.

Of course, "Nothing Lasts Forever," as described in the following poem with the same title by Ruth Walters:

Nothing lasts forever,

nothing stays the same.

The person I was yesterday

is surely gone today.

That's why I take a picture

and keep it in my drawer,

so I may take a peek

at the ghost

of who I was before.

That concept never was brought home to me more than when I received this photo yesterday from my younger daughter, Christina, who spends considerable time doing genealogy. It's a photo taken of me when I probably was about 5, and my brother (right), Russ, had to be about 2. We're standing in front of what was the place I've always warmly remembered as home.

The sad reality is that even this piece of my life no longer remains, other than in photos and for the vacant lot on which my little two-bedroom home sat. As luck would have it, two owners removed from my parents were into meth and started a fire one night that resulted in the house being condemned. Crews moved in shortly thereafter and took everything to the ground.

On second thought, there is one thing that lasts forever, and that's the memories. As in ol' Bob Hope's theme song, I'll always be thankful for them.