My father’s bridge

Twelve years ago this month a bridge was named in honour of my father. Seven years ago this week The Age ran a story of mine about the bridge. The original story was nearly 1200 words. I had to quickly get it down to 600.

Here’s an excerpt from the published story:

My father’s bridge is just 11 metres wide. It is found by a short and narrow track about 200 metres inland from the Great Ocean Road, between Anglesea and Lorne.

Since the bridge opened seven years ago, I have wanted to ask what might appear to be an ungrateful question: would the bridge have been named after my father if he had not died just a few months earlier?

The answer is “no”, but the answer is like the question: it doesn’t matter.

And here’s the final version: The Age, 30 August 2007

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