It has been quite a weekend for me dealing with ghosts.  Of course, any time I get to go back to Winfield, there are going to be ghosts.  It is painfully ironic that the man who wrote From Among the Dead, dealing with ghosts in Winfield, is not wild about going back to Winfield and facing them, but I go where the news takes me.  
Last Friday night, I was at the Winfield High School for the first time in seven years.  The last time I was there, I was writing up a basketball game for Catch it Kansas.  Looking around at all these kids, I was painfully aware many of them were born close to the year I graduated from Southwestern College and moved away from Winfield in 2002.  There I was,  with my ten year old son and seven year old daughter. Given enough time, people change.  Sixteen years ago, when I graduated from college, I was nowhere close to being considered a family man.  
The Fourteenth Street Bridge in Winfield is coming down soon.  It is already blocked off.  On Saturday, people were allowed a brief two hour window to drive their classic cars and trucks over the bridge one last time.  Sometime over the next seven to eight months the old bridge is going to be torn down and replaced with a new one in the very same spot.  People going to Bluegrass in September get to drive on the new bridge.  It was a pretty great bridge, having been in that very same spot for close to ninety years.  There are the remains of an old railroad bridge just to the south of the soon to be gone bridge.  Given enough time, places change.  
Standing by the side of the old, beat-up road that leads to the massive super structure that spans over the Walnut River, I was time traveling.  Ok, I was watching the cars.  There were bunches of them that came across that bridge one last time.  There were cars from as far back as a hundred years ago to ones just purchased within the past few years.  They came together to be a part of history.  
It was truly a humbling experience walking across that bridge one last time Saturday and knowing that it was going to be relegated to the scrap heap of history soon.  Looking over the railing and out onto the massive Walnut River, I felt pretty small in the scheme of things.  I had so many memories of being near or on that bridge, but that was never going to change.  
As I walked off that bridge one last time, I knew I had miles to go before I was ready to be considered history.  After all, I still have miles to go before I sleep.