Life on the Other Side of the Swinging Bridge

    

 

 

 

                                Life on the Other Side of the Swinging Bridge

Have you ever seen a swinging bridge? Most people haven’t, and those who do are often afraid to cross them. Some find it thrilling, but when you're sick, old, or facing other everyday struggles, that thrill quickly fades.

If you travel this road, in my community, a close family member lived across every swinging bridge you’d encounter. To some, it might seem like a unique experience. In many ways, it was—until life’s challenges crept in. Unlike most people, who can drive right up to their front door, we had to carry everything we owned across the bridge by hand. Once you cross the bridge, there's still a long walk ahead. Imagine hauling a refrigerator or couch across a quarter to half a mile of rough terrain.

Even daily chores like getting groceries or going to school meant walking in the wet grass or snow. I spent a lot of time sick because my feet were always soaked, and it was worse in winter, waking up at 5 a.m. to trudge through ice and snow.

At my mother’s house, the journey was no easier. I had two options: cross the river on a makeshift raft built from plywood and milk jugs, or take a longer route around a cliff and through a cave. My grandfather died walking around that same cliff—one night, he fell into the river and drowned. Tragedy hit again during the 2022 Kentucky floods, when two more family members drowned, including my aunt. She lived across the same bridge featured in this story.

 I’ll continue adding to this section as I collect images and memories to illustrate it better. My goal is to show the reality of places like this, which still exist in modern America. When I tell people about my experience, they can’t quite grasp it until they see it for themselves. Even then, it’s hard to understand unless you’ve lived it.

 

 

 

       

 

     

 

 

 

The Flood That Took More Than Water

The home in the image below belonged to my aunt, who drowned in the 2022 Kentucky flood. My house is behind that, on the hill, The flood hit on the night of my birthday. I had always made sure to visit her every evening, no matter where I was, to keep her company. She was lonely, and I was her closest family nearby. After my parents died, I learned to appreciate time with my elders, whether anyone realizes it or not, it weighed on me. The reality they would not be there forever, was....is, always on my mind. I will tell you secret. And many would make fun of me for this. Men aren't supposed to feel this way. But they do. They all do. They can say they don't but it is a lie. I've seen about every single one I know, cry. 

 

          For years now, I have dreams. What some would consider a nightmare, for me is kind of fun. What some would consider a good dream, some for me, are sad and nightmares. it is subjective I guess. I have dreams about people, and I cry in my sleep. Or I will wake up crying. One recurring dream I have, is about this old 70's yellow faded paint, car. I have no idea the significance of it. Maybe a repressed memory? For two years now, after the flood, I have dreams about water and people drowning. I sometimes have episodes of sleep paralysis. You are awake, but you can't move.

 

         As I type this, the song "Champaign Super Nova" came on. lol. Wow. Haven't heard that in a long time. It is linked to a memory related to this. What are the odds? Moving on, demons will be standing over you and all manner of nightmare. And it seems one hundred percent real. I had my first episode after my father died, sleeping in his old house. The one that burned. I would much rather have the sleep paralysis, than the dream about the yellow car. Either one, I feel happy to be awake. I have cried over the loss of a loved one. years before it even happens. I recently found out, a lot of people do that. Keeps them from going into shock when it actually happens. But, no one knows this about me. And when I don't react like they do, they take it the wrong way. I grieve. Believe me, I just don't like to bother others with it.  Sometimes I wonder, if anyone will actually ever read any of this. Sometimes, I wonder, if I am just wasting my time. I feel a little better though. Getting things off my chest. Even if it is never read. I also fear being attacked. I have some good stories I can tell later, about things like that. I have been in very bad situations. If I listed them in order, sometimes, I am even shocked I am here. I am not doing this to provoke anyone. Just giving a glimpse into the parts people don't see. I sometimes say, "the only consolation I have, when a loved one or friend dies, they get to see the things they didn't know:

I spent a lot of my time helping the elderly and sick in my community, particularly in the winter—hauling firewood, storing it, packing it in, clearing out ashes, and other daily tasks they couldn’t do themselves. even when I was sick. I was sick once for three months, a few years ago. I thought I was going to die, but that is a story for another entry. It was a thankless job, but necessary. Thankless may not be fair. I know they appreciated it. I mean that in the way that the majority doesn't know this about me. I worried about people. I saw everyone as my family. No one truly understood what I did because they weren’t there to see it. Hearing lies about me from people who weren’t there hurts deeply. Like I said, the only comfort I have is the thought that, if there is an afterlife, those who’ve passed on now know the truth.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 The house is empty. 

“Troublesome” River, Indeed

The creek near my home is called "Troublesome," and I’ve been told it was named by Daniel Boone because of the constant sandbars that forced travelers to stop and carry their boats over them. Whether that story is true or not, I don’t know. But what I do know is that this waterway has shaped life in my community for generations. To reach civilization, I had to walk to the bridge. Without a car and with poor road conditions, there was no other option. In the old days, the waterways, were the highways. A lot of history here. The other side of that river, is littered with native American artifacts. If you break ground anywhere, you will find something. But you have to think, they used it to hunt for ten thousand years. Ten thousand years worth of arrowheads. A lot of hide scrapers are found.

The day my home burned, they graveled part of the road. Since the flood, I’ve been vocal about getting a proper bridge built or at least repairing the road, or even a walking bridge.  But now, with my home gone, it seems unlikely. People who don’t even live here have opposition, and with my aunt gone, it feels like no one cares about me or what happens to this place. Watching the water swallow her home broke me, and I cried for everything lost. I did. As the water swallowed her home, I looked and cried. And no one realized why at that moment. And I didn't say anything, but I knew. Still, I had hope to hang on to. I told another family member, no matter how bad of a day you think you are having, others are having it worse. We were in the water, we were in danger, but we were alive and had a chance. I knew some others did not, as I looked around. I just didn't say anything at that time. 

We were on the second story of my another family members home, and the water was waste deep. It was like being in the middle of a raging river boat ride. I wish I could have taken pictures, but my phone was almost dead. And I wanted to save the last power for "just in case". Placed it in a zip lock bag and sealed it. Then another and sealed it. Then one more. I had a jacket and shirt, my medicine and a few other things I was able to grab. My wallet. No pants. I was out of luck there, I had on a shirt that was too small. I wanted to keep my good shirt dry. 

So I place all of that, along with my phone, in a garbage bag and tied it. Then I placed it in another bag, and tied it. Then I did it one more time. This just didn't keep my things dry. It created an air pocket to make it a flotation device. I suggested to everyone else to do the same, but no one did. Then I started looking for milk jugs and things that could float. I started tying them together to make life jackets. My aunt was worried about all of her pictures. just your typical aunt. I love her. She is all I have now. 

 I told her that she better be thinking about her life. It hadn't occurred to her, the real danger we were in. But, I started throwing things around and though I wasn't able, I lifted her bed and we saved her pictures. She still has them :) . Then I told her to start finding jugs and things that could float. I needed rope and things I can tie with. I made three life jackets from things I found. I told them if the house moved just a single inch, we had to go. We had to get out right then and take our chances. Many people washed away with their homes. One man down the road, got himself and a daughter out, he reached for his other daughter, and the house just slipped away, along with his daughter and wife.

 Down the road at the Clayhole bridge, where my mother lived before she died. images of that are here also, some cousins and an uncle were stranded there. They were there when the mans home, that slipped away with his wife and daughter, collided with the bridge. Crushing and splintering it into a thousand pieces. They witnessed it. They said it sounded like a cannon. That was probably when they went. They found one of the bodies near there, and I think it took months to find the other. There were bodies in trees, on the bank, all over they found them. When it was dark, though I didn't hear it, I probably didn't even know what was happening at that point. The water was three feet around the house before my cat woke me up.But many told me about hearing people screaming for help in the darkness, going by them. Crying. This is emotional. I had one friend they found in the top of a tree, alive. 

As I mentioned earlier, I have dreams every night about water or people drowning and I can't save them. A lot was going on while I was trying to round up things to make life jackets. No one could find any rope. All we could find was a long extension cord. I told my aunt and my cousin, if the house moved just an inch, we had to go, and here was my plan. 

I told each one to put the jug jackets under their arms and we would tie them on. This should help keep their heads out of the water. and I would use the extension cord to tie one of them on each side of me. If they went, I would be going with them. I could have probably made it to the trees alone, but would I really want to? No. Then I told them, when we got into the water, whatever you do, don't panic. That was the main thing. Do not panic. And I know from experience, they would have panicked. I know my aunt probably would have. I told them just pretend we are on a swim at the beach and don't even try to fight it. Just relax and we will let the current take us right in this line of trees, down from us. We would grab the branches and use them to make our way to land. Luckily that never happened and the helicopters came. 

 I was sick and hurt. The helicopter blew shingles from the roof everywhere. The Guardsmen couldn't make it into the house. So, they dropped the basket and ordered me to let them go first and help them. I was like, "duh". I was hurt but I knew what was up. My cousin, who has cerebral palsy, went with it like a champ. Like she had done it a thousand times before. She loved it. 

When my aunt, in her 80's got into the basket, she is slow, she had not sit all the way down in the basket and I guess the Guardsman on the roof gave the signal. And they started lifting the basket. The basket flipped and right out into the water my aunt went. I was hurt, but adrenaline kicked in and I reached right out and grabbed her. It was like a reflex. They probably have a video of this. I pulled her back in. She tried to get into the basket again and this time I held on. Again, they lifted it before she got down into and back into the water she went again. I remember holder her tight. I think she said  I was. haha I was scared. I remember the water roaring around me and the deafening sound of the rotors from the Blackhawk. And how I couldn't hear anything. My ears were ringing, my heart was pounding, and I was in a lot of pain. And this guardsman was on the roof yelling at me. Just yelling. He might have been cussing. Didn't matter, I couldn't hear a word he was saying and all he was doing was making me more nervous and upset. I remember yelling back, " shut the hell up, I can't f'n hear you!!!" And then I looked at my aunt with all of this water going everywhere, and said, "I am hurting, I can't hold you anymore. And I grabbed that basket and I pushed her right under the water, down in the basket. The second I did, they lifted her up. 

 The guy on the roof pointed at my uncle and I laughed and waved and said, "yeah, right, good luck with that." every heard the saying, "Hell nor high water"? I had both and he wasn't leaving. I got into the basket and they lifted me up and my head hit the bottom of the helicopter and about knocked me out of the basket. They pulled me in and flipped me right out of the basket. The pilot looked at me and I gave him the "OK" hand sign. He gave it back with a thumbs up. 

What happened with my aunt and that basket, a guy a few miles up the road had the same thing happen to him. But when he went into the water, that was the last they saw him. Or so everyone told me. If I had not been there, who knows how that could have turned out.

Life in Modern America

Here are some pictures I took recently of the bridge, which still stands today, looking much as it did after the flood. The house is empty now. Without proper road access, I can’t use medical taxis, and even having visitors has become impossible. They expect me to walk all the way around a dirt road—through rain, snow, or whatever the weather brings—to reach the highway.

I want you to see the image below, taken from Google Earth. That red line shows the long path I’d have to take just to reach the highway. If you’re curious, look it up yourself, use street view, and explore the before-and-after images from the flood. Even five state troopers got lost once trying to find my home; all they wanted was to "get the hell out of there."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is an image of the bridge from google earth, before the flood. Along with some other images that will be useful later, but also give you a view of the context of the situation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another satellite image showing the area. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         Now let's move the second bridge in this story. This is where I lived with my mom when I was growing up. I lived there for a long time as an adult as well. I already told you the story of the adventure I took every morning, just catching the school bus. I have some more images and video to add to this, later. Especially the video. I am going to video the paths and roads, I have to use to get to the highway, then post them here. I have a couple already, I will post them later this evening.

 

 

           You can't see it because the vines have it covered, but that is part of the cliff I had to walk around every morning. There is also a cave there that you have to go through. This is also the exact place my grandpa fell off the cliff, and drown.  Right there in the river.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the end of the bridge on the highway. Named the Clayhole bridge.  There was a different bridge there, back then. I will see if I can get some pics of it to post. After I made it around the cliff, I would stand in that spot and wait on the school bus. They eventually built a swinging bridge.I still had to make half the normal walk, just to get to the swinging bridge. I the place where I had the choice of using the plywood/milk jug raft, or continuing on around the cliff. In the 2022 flood, that bridge washed out as well and will not be replaced. This cliff you see right now, is how it looks, right now and that is the only way to the homes there. People had to walk away from them.

 

 

 

 

 

 The image below is a screen shot of google earth. It highlights the walk I had to make every day, and with the bridge gone. the walk you would have to do today, to get there. in modern America.

More images and videos will be added to this. As I collect them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Cry for Help

In modern America—the “greatest country on earth”—I find myself homeless and disabled, with no access to my property. The bridge is gone, and I have no way to live on my land unless something is done. I will be sending this blog to my state representatives, senators, the White House, and even celebrities, hoping someone will listen and help.

Here’s a link to my GoFundMe, which, unsurprisingly, hasn’t gained much traction. I understand people’s hesitation, but I still have to try. Shame has been placed on me for needing help, but this is my only option now. If you’re reading this, please share my story. I will continue adding and polishing.

 

https://gofund.me/c01c0f6e