So Neerland gets first whack, it is as it should be I suppose. Even better the main content of this post isn’t even mine!

I have had the pleasure of meeting a quite remarkable fella named Garrett Ebling. Fomer reporter, current communications professional for Great Clips, Inc and I35W bridge collapse survivor, which is an honor not unlike eagle scout, once you are a bridge collapse survivor you are always a bridge collapse survivor. Garrett’s story has been well chronicled in the newspapers and on the local network affiliates. The physical experience; as the bridge fell, the heroic recuse by a Comcast Cable employee who missed Garrett’s fate by a car length and Garrett’s journey to recover his health and heal his battered body are at once inspiring and jarring. Shocking as it all may be Garrett’s physical experiences are fathomable.

It is his metaphysical journey that we may never understand. There is no “why me” in Garrett today. He is grateful that he was spared to continue his life, with his betrothed and a new job. Garrett credits his faith, his belief in an Almighty, and His master plan, for the strength he found to persevere. But still there will always be more to this story. As any good reporter would, Garrett is listing the “who, what, when, where, why and hows” but together they aren’t adding up. Probably never will. Garrett posted this poem on his caring bridge site. It is a metaphor for all of us who experience collapse and rebuilding.

“Numb”

We cascaded into the crevices

Tumbled into the darkness

Our bodies bounced and rattled

Off concrete rubble and ribbons of steel.

Some landed wet. Others dry,

Gargling and spitting blood and water.

Most were patched up like tape onto a bicycle tire,

Set free to return to the roads and bridges that betrayed us.

And like dogs who despise leashes,

We pull the other way. Who wants to go there?

We stand unbudging and hollow.

The trembling gnaws from inside out.

It settles, then swirls, like garbage in the wind.

There is no savior. No finish line.

Instead we wander with aching feet, unsettled mind,

A countenance not unlike the walking undead.

We’ve become numb.

The rug was pulled from beneath.

We collapsed with no net below.

Where is our deliverer?

For more about Garrett’s journey visit his caring bridge site your darn self; www.caringbridge.org/visit/garrettebling

Posted with humility
MJO

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 15th, 2008 at 3:00 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.