Reading the discussion of what to do with the old bridge that spans Love Creek has harkened me back to my childhood.
It would be hard to identify an individual who has a closer relationship with that structure than me. My family had a bait and tackle and clam business at the base of the bridge on the east side. A white-cube building with the name Dolly’s painted in red greeted customers. Thousands of clams a day were moved through the door of that building. We also had a small marina resting in the water.
As youngsters, we walked on the top of the bridge’s railing, dove into the “crick,” and climbed on the wooden under-structure, as the edifice served as our personal playground. As I moved into my teenage years, I routinely crossed it on my way to call on a girlfriend whose house was located on the base of the west side. I also walked across for my first job, selling Grit newspapers. As I prepared for participating in the sports programs at Lewes High School and college, I jogged across en route to a seven-mile loop around Angola by the Bay and back.
Yes, the memories are abundant, and every time I drive across the new bridge, my mind wanders back to the old days.
The third book I have had published, “Running on Empty,” is a historical fiction piece detailing the lives of a group of young boys fighting their way to maturity as they engage each other along the “crick.” At one point, one hammers five nails in the shape of a baseball diamond next to the Slow No Wake sign on the fifth wooden piling from the east side propping up the old structure. In reality, those nails were injected into the wood over 60 years ago and are still there.
If the old bridge is vanquished, a monument to this writer’s memories will be gone, but the retrospections will remain, as will a thankful heart dedicated to the structure that created them.