Ranges Community Church

This was a real event, caught on film, in September 2002, The documentary was called ‘ The Bridge’ it was filmed over a period of twelve months over twenty people jumped to their deaths from the golden gate bridge in San Francisco during this time, each recorded on film  www.thebridge-themovie.com

It was much like any other day. The bridge was bathed in golden autumn hue.

It was a busy Saturday afternoon; the bridge was filled with the young, the old, jogger’s tourists, those full of romantic notions. A casual glance across the bridge would lead one to conclude that this day and this scene had been repeated countless times before.

The view is breathtaking. It is early in the morning it is encased in a blanket of fog; the top of the bridge towers stands erect through the white fluffy clouds

Many thousands of cars cross the bridge every hour, it is the most effective and time efficient way to cross from the central coast to the San Francisco bay.

As one looks along the bridge countless numbers of people, young, old, parents with young children gaze through the safeguard over the San Francisco bay. Many hundreds of feet below ships pass under the bridge, the coast guard patrols the busy bay, policing the traffic. On the high pier near the base of the bridge fisherman cast out lines. Windsurfers bounce across the tops of the waves, sails and backs arched against the strong wind.

A flotilla of small yachts sails in formation in single file. Pelicans swim in the shallows fighting for space and food with noisy busy seagulls.

Swimmers dive in formation of a small boat, belonging one guesses to some swimming club near the bay.

Just another day in paradise, a Perfect day, the worries of life are put on hold, suspended, at least for the time being.

Light colored t-shirts and tops, running shorts and tracksuits pants seem to be the order of the day as hundreds of people meander across. He stands out from the crowd looking like a cross between Roy Orbison and Jonny Cash, black pants, black hair, black sunglasses, black boots, black long jacket, the contrast is distinct, his mood and intention are well reflected in his dress.

He resembles a caged animal longing for escape, like a crazed watchdog he paces up and down, much like an expectant father would pace up and down in a hospital both waiting for the moment of truth.

He looks out of place; he walks to the beat of a different drum, interrupted by manic glances over the side.

One wonders what lead him to this place, this time, and this decision. It seems he was a fringe dweller; wanting, longing and yearning so much to be a part of the whole. He fought valiantly throughout his life to be a part of the whole, to conform, to fit, to be loved. With bitter disappointment he realizes it is all to no avail, he has failed.

Not only had he lived on the edge, but today as he had so many times before, he stood at the edge, and stared into the abyss. Today was different; there was new sense of determination a greater resolve. His moment had finally arrived. He walks slowly in a stilted manner over to the edge as if being summoned by some greater force, his intentions now took on a chilling, crystal clarity, in his mind the bridge had been crossed. He felt like he had failed at everything but not today, there was now no turning back.

His very being flint like and frozen as he looks over the edge. The painful tragedy is that this monumental decision passes without notice; joggers look a little longer than normal as he draws himself up as if to announce his intentions to those that pass. With his hands behind his back, he thrusts himself up onto the shoulder of the rail, with all the grace of a well-trained athlete

He then stands and balances on the edge of life and death back facing the abyss he looks momentarily and takes his final glance at life, this image is a dark tragic contrast. In his final moments he stands statuesque with a sense of fleeting dignity, he decides to bow out gracefully. He gives a casual glance to a single family standing to his right, as if looking for some acknowledgement; he then leans back as if trusting himself to a much greater terrifying certainty. Like a diver he free falls three hundred feet, his body pierces the surface, and resurfaces a few minutes latter the sound echoes out around the bay, some have heard this chilling sound before.

At the top of the bridge people stop and stare in stunned disbelief, the senses arguing with the mind begging a reality check. This moment for many will be frozen forever in time never to be forgotten. Paradise is momentarily lost as many are forced to confront a reality that is brutal and final.

Above this frozen snapshot, the golden gate bridge is bathed in a glowing golden hue ships pass underneath, a flotilla of yachts follow in single file, life goes on the moment is forgotten, the coast guard circles below, his battered lifeless body is retrieved, once again paradise is restored.

I don’t know his name; today he crossed a bridge over troubled water. Goodbye whoever you are ‘known only to God