GESENHUES: The longest bridge

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September 30, 2008

By AMY GESENHUES The News and Tribune Tue Sep 30, 2008, 06:44 PM EDT

Louisville has been clamoring for years over the bridges project. Bumper stickers proclaim, “Build the Bridge!” while the East-Enders quietly urge, “Just don’t build it here.” As a lifelong Southern Indiana native, I’m not so sure what the big deal is. How many of these Louisville bridges advocates are actually going to make the trek across the river anyway?

Besides their twice a year journeys to Stumler and Huber farms for pumpkins and Christmas trees, most Louisvillians stay clear of the sunniest side of Louisville. It’s a strange and foreign land to them, filled with pick-up trucks and Euchre tournaments.

I work in Louisville, shop in Louisville, dine in Louisville and frequently visit friends who live in Louisville. Downtown, Old Louisville, the Highlands, Crescent Hill, Hurstbourne — I can find my way most of the time. But, trying to get my friends and colleagues from Louisville to come over here is a bit like asking an agoraphobic to take a trip around the world with me. So far, the green sauce at La Rosita and the beer at Richo’s has been the only persuasion method that works.

Growing up, I lived in New Albany and then Floyds Knobs, but my grandmother’s house, where I spent most of my weekends, was in Louisville. Crossing the bridge was a common event. It would be grade school before I realized that not every state was separated by a river. I thought crossing a river was how you knew you were leaving one state and entering another (geography was never my strong suit).

Now I wonder if that river represents something more. Something deeply buried in the human psyche of the Louisville population. I understand that as a metropolis, Louisville has a bit more to offer than some of our social activity centers. But what if a Louisvillian’s hesitancy to travel beyond their border goes a bit deeper than the lack of things-to-do? What if Southern Indiana represents, “the other”? That scary, dark place where we hide our fears and things we don’t understand.

If they come to Southern Indiana, will they be able to find their way back? What if they like it? Will they be betraying their great city? And how long is that drive anyway? What if they make a wrong turn on their trip to Borden? Will they end up in Illinois? God forbid they have to stop and ask directions—do Hoosiers speak the same language?

The downtowners going to Jeffersonville for lunch is about as deep as the Louisville born-and-bred populace is willing to go. The Second Street bridge offers an obviously safe and secure passage. Maybe because you can walk on it? Or maybe because the eateries along the Jeffersonville riverfront offer front row seating to Louisville? Like a toddler staying within viewing distance of their parent, there is nothing to fear as long as they can see where they came from.

Of course, the flip side of this geographic aversion is whether we want an influx of Louisville natives invading our shores. Haven’t we all been stuck behind that car with Kentucky plates coming up the Knobs, breaking on every single turn while only going 20 miles an hour? Sure we’ll give the courageous few who make the trip directions to the boat or point them back to Highway 150 with their uncarved jack-o-lanterns. But do we want them taking our seats at our favorite local restaurants? Playing cards with us at Community Club? Drinking our Hob Knobb coffee?

Isn’t Harvest Homecoming crowded enough? If we start encouraging Louisville to join us, how early will we have to show up at our fall festival to get chicken and dumplings before they run-out?

You may think I’m encouraging prejudice. That I am spewing ignorant, unfair, and unjust anti-Louisville-ism hate with all of this rhetoric. That I’m practicing intolerance of our neighbors to the south (or east, depending on which bridge you take to get here from Louisville).

I don’t mean to be an anti-Louisvillian-ite, I just don’t mind the distance between us and Louisville, even if I can’t get my Louisville friends to stop by my house for coffee on a Saturday afternoon.

The real irony is that my commute to work — from Floyds Knobs to the Irish Hill neighborhood just outside of downtown Louisville — takes a lot less time than the commute many of my Louisville co-workers have to make.

In the end, if they ever do decide to build another bridge, they should probably consider adding more south-bound (or east-bound) lanes, since it appears the bridge will be used a lot more by us than them.

Amy Gesenhues is a freelance writer who blogs daily at www.AmyWroteIt.Wordpress.com. You can email her directly at amy@amywroteit.com.

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