Today’s post will be the last entry on the Bridge of the Americas series. It’s time to move forward to another photographic subject about interesting spots in the Isthmus. I’m still undecided whether it will be the Panama Canal and its surroundings or the American and French cemeteries. I’ll think about it during the upcoming days.
This post has two sections; the first part consists of an inspirational poem about an old man and a bridge and the second part are several images of the Bridge of the Americas. Some stories are better told with words, others are better communicated with images.
The Bridge
by Will Allen Dromgoole
An old man going a long, highway,
Came, at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and wide and steep,
With water rolling cold and deep.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
The sullen stream had no fears for him,
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting your strength with building here,
Your journey will end with the ending day,
You never again will pass this way,
You’ve crossed the chasm deep and wide,
Why build you this bridge at eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head,
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today,
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
The chasm that was as naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be,
He, too, must cross in twilight dim,
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.”
One look is worth a thousand words. Below are several pictures of the Bridge of the Americas. There are no captions under the photographs. I feel they are not needed. The beauty of the structure speaks by itself. Here we go.
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
(Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
In a certain way, I’m like the old man who built a bridge so that the younger generations who followed could cross the chasm deep and wide. Several decades from now, many of the buildings and structures in Panama will be gone, destroyed by greedy minds mesmerized by the ring of the cash box. However, if WordPress is still around—which I trust it will—the younger generations who are following our path can look at the pictures and stories of Lingua Franca and appreciate the way Panama was many years ago. That will be my bridge. That will be my legacy. Good Day.
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